The storm broke that evening.
Not of thunder but of prophecy.
Word had begun to stir among the nobility, whispered behind fans and passed beneath wine glasses.
That Evelyne Ashthorn had royal blood.
Not the polished, powdered kind that posed for portraits.
But flame-born blood. Ancient. Condemned. Divine.
At the palace, Queen Viora shattered a goblet against the marble floor.
"She's baiting me," she seethed, pacing like a lioness denied a kill. "She wants me to act, to attack."
Lord Chancellor Graeve bowed his head. "Then perhaps we should, Your Majesty. Let the people see she bleeds like any other rebel."
The Queen's gaze turned sharp. "No. Not yet. If I strike her now, I make her a martyr. I need to dismantle her slowly. Publicly."
She turned to her chamberlain.
"Send word to the Temple of Fire. Let the High Seer speak. If Evelyne claims divine lineage… we'll see if the gods dare speak her name."
Back in Ashthorn Manor, Evelyne stood before the hearth. The flames danced, flickering like they knew her.
Maren entered, her boots silent on the stone floor. "You've stirred the court like bees in a broken hive."
"They should be afraid," Evelyne replied softly. "Because I remember now."
"Remember what?"
Evelyne reached into the folds of her cloak and withdrew a thin, ancient pendant. At its center burned a tiny ember alive, pulsing.
"My mother gave me this before they took her away. She said I'd only see the flame when I was ready."
Maren took a step closer, brows drawn. "That's Seer-forged. I've only heard of them in stories."
"They weren't stories," Evelyne said. "They were warnings. And we didn't listen."
That night, Evelyne dreamed of fire.
She stood in a hall of scorched stone and smoke. The air shimmered with heat, and at the far end of the hall stood a woman cloaked in gold and flame.
Queen Elyra.
She didn't speak but her eyes burned through Evelyne's soul.
And Evelyne understood.
This wasn't about revenge anymore.
This was about return.
The throne had been stolen by fear. Hidden behind laws and crowns and names.
But fire remembers.
And so did she.
Evelyne awoke before dawn, her pendant glowing against her chest.
Maren was already waiting.
"Where to?"
Evelyne's voice was steel.
"The Temple of Fire."