"Power split must always be paid. If it is not, it takes what is owed."
—The Forgotten Oracle
The impostor was gone.
She had unraveled into ash and flickering magic, leaving behind no body, no scream just silence. A silence so deep it rang in my ears long after the flames of the cathedral had been extinguished.
The rebellion had escaped. Barely.
The nobles who witnessed the fight were either unconscious or in hiding. The Church's highest priest was dead, cut down by Kael himself.
The capital buzzed with uncertainty.
Rumors swirled:
That a Gate-born witch had battled her reflection.
That Seraphina Dorne had returned… twice.
That the Fire itself had chosen.
But in the quiet aftermath, with the impostor defeated and the throne still empty, I felt no peace.
Because deep in my bones, something had shifted.
I stood alone in the palace gardens that night, beneath the broken moonlight. My dual rune once warm, glowing gold and blue had begun to chill.
Literally.
A frost spread from the edges of the mark, cracking across my collarbone in pale crystal veins. I touched it, and flinched.
Cold.
Too cold.
Kael noticed it first.
"You're burning inside and freezing out," he murmured, brushing a thumb over the skin near the rune. "That's not normal."
"No," I whispered. "It's not."
That night, I couldn't sleep. Not because of fear. But because something was whispering.
Not words.
A name.
A name I wasn't meant to hear… let alone speak.
Vaelith.
And then
Seraphina… you carry what should not exist. Return what was stolen… or be unmade.
I went to the ruins of the cathedral alone.
The stone still smoldered, echoing with remnants of divine magic.
There, at the altar where I'd branded the impostor, a tear in the air remained a ripple, faint and silver, like stretched fabric at its breaking point.
The Gate hadn't closed when I returned.
It had widened.
And now… it was bleeding.
Tiny streams of glowing energy blue and gold leaked from the fissure and vanished into the air.
I reached out to touch it.
My rune pulsed.
And the Gate spoke.
"You stole the flame meant for one. Two cannot carry the same soul. The world bends. Time fractures."
"Choose."
I fell to my knees.
The ground beneath me blurred. The Gate surged. And then she appeared.
Not the impostor. Not me.
Something older.
Something before.
A woman draped in silver fire, her eyes blindfolded, her voice made of wind.
"I am the First Flame. The Oracle. Keeper of Balance."
I couldn't speak.
"You passed through the Gate and returned changed. The impostor was not your enemy she was your burden."
"Now that she is gone, the burden remains. The soul is still split."
"The longer it remains so… the closer the world comes to rift."
"What do you want from me?" I finally asked.
"A choice."
"Sacrifice your magic… or someone you love."
I returned to the palace with that sentence echoing in my ears.
The Oracle hadn't threatened me.
She'd simply told the truth.
The rune could not remain split without consequence.
Its presence distorted fate time, magic, even memory.
I'd already begun to feel it. In moments when I lost time. When I remembered things that hadn't happened. When Kael spoke words I swore I'd already heard.
The world was… unraveling.
And if I did nothing
It would tear.
That night, I called Kael to the moonlit hall that had once served as the Phoenix Queen's sanctuary. He came without question, his sword at his side, his eyes on me.
"You look like you're about to disappear," he said softly.
"I might," I replied.
I told him everything.
About the Oracle. The Gate. The split soul. The price.
He listened without interruption.
Then he stepped forward.
"Then take my magic."
I froze.
"No."
"Take it. Bind it into the rune. Let it balance the split."
"You'll lose everything"
"I'd rather lose my flame than lose you."
Tears burned in my eyes.
"You're a fool."
He smiled. "A loyal one."
The Phoenix Queen's sanctuary had once housed ancient spells many destroyed, others buried.
But one remained, hidden beneath the altar.
A rite of balance.
The Ritual of Reforging.
It required two souls. One burdened. One willing.
I took the circle and carved it in flame. Kael stepped in beside me.
"You don't have to do this," I whispered one last time.
He didn't reply.
Only reached out and touched the edge of my rune.
And spoke one word.
"Yrinthar."
The word of giving.
A magic older than binding.
I screamed.
The rune flared gold, then blue, then white so bright the walls of the sanctuary glowed.
Kael collapsed.
And I..
I burned.
I woke three days later.
My body weak. My flame pulsing like a tired heart.
But the rune… was whole.
One symbol now.
No longer split.
And Kael?
He sat beside me, pale but alive.
"What did it cost you?" I whispered.
He smiled faintly.
"Not everything. Just… the part of me that wanted a throne."
"You never wanted a throne."
He winked. "Then I lost nothing."