"The flame has spoken. But the storm listens too."
On the wall were long casting shadows as the firelight flickered across the King's study. King Theron sat in silence, the faint rustle of parchment the only sound in the room. He gazed at the fireworks as his fingers lightly felt the armrest of his chair.
Roran's absence gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.
He had sent his most trusted man to uncover the truth. But truth, it seemed, took its time.
A knock broke the stillness.
"Enter," he called.
Prince Kael's armour caught the torchlight when he entered. He moved with a quiet confidence that reminded Theron of younger days, before secrets became his closest company.
"You wanted to speak, Your Majesty?"
The King nodded to the seat across from him. "Sit."
Kael obeyed, settling into the chair. The silence between them pulsed.
"You saw her," Theron said, voice low. "In the arena. In court. You watched her rise."
Kael didn't blink. "I did."
"What do you see?"
The prince took his time.
"I see fire that won't be caged. She's not just prophecy or spectacle. She's... inevitable. People shift around her. She doesn't demand loyalty. She attracts it. Even from those who fear her."
Theron's gaze didn't leave him.
"And you? You don't fear her?"
Kael gave a small smile. "Only a fool fears what could be an ally."
The King leaned back, fingers steepled. "And if she turns?"
"Then we face a flame we failed to guide."
A beat of silence passed.
"I don't want to control her," Theron admitted. "But I fear what others might do if we don't act."
"Then guide her," Kael said. "Before someone else does."
Theron nodded slowly, his mind elsewhere.
Kael hesitated. "Where's Isla?"
The question hung.
"I haven't seen her," Kael added. "Not since the Trial."
Theron frowned. "She should be in the palace."
Kael rose. "Should be." He paused, offering a bow.
Isla stood on the black cliffs of Velmoor, and sea winds engulfed her. Below, waves crash like thunder. It matched her mood.
Hours in Duchess Alithia's estate, and Isla still felt like prey.
"Focus," Alithia's voice snapped. "Again."
Isla shut her eyes, trying to summon shadow magic. Nothing. Just flickers.
"Your fire fails you because it was never truly yours," the Duchess said. "And your shadow won't serve envy."
"I'm not envious," Isla snapped.
Alithia gave her a long look. "You burn for approval, not purpose. That's why you can't hold power. Not yet."
Isla turned her back. "I want to learn."
"Then unlearn your mother's lies," Alithia murmured. "Or you'll always be second to a girl born of truth."
Back in the palace, Elara paced her chamber while Ana stood on the balcony, breathing in the night air. M leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"They called me again," Elara said angrily, "Trade, alliances… like I've ruled all my life."
"They don't want answers," M replied. "They want to see if you'll stumble."
"If I do?"
"They'll cheer harder," Ana said with a faint smile. "Even your downfall would be a spectacle worth their time."
Elara turned to the window. The moonlight etched her profile in silver.
"Then I won't fall."
Not now.
Not ever.