The storm broke at dawn.
The sky peeled itself open in shades of muted rose and gold, casting a pale serenity over the ruined woods. Silence stretched long between the branches, the kind of silence that follows a scream. Trees lay snapped and scattered like the aftermath of a god's tantrum. The snow was softer now, falling like an apology.
And beneath it all, nestled at the base of the mountains, waited Azareth.
---
Just Past the Frostwood — Midmorning
"Here," Kael murmured, brushing snow off a stone pillar.
The carvings emerged slowly, like something waking from centuries of sleep—runes in a forgotten language, spirals of fire and wings, a crown with no jewels. Eira's breath caught.
"It's real," she whispered. "I thought Azareth was legend."
Kael's expression was unreadable. "So did I. Until I found this place five years ago."
"You've been here before?"
"Briefly. Didn't go far. There's a sickness in the air. A… memory."
The entrance loomed just beyond the clearing—half-swallowed by vines and ice, framed by two massive statues of winged women with empty eyes. Their stone robes were chipped, their lips cracked.
But they watched.
Eira could feel it in her bones.
Kael pulled his sword, the metal hissing softly as it left its sheath. "Stay close."
---
Descending the Ruins
The staircase sloped down into the earth, the walls lined with sconces long since dark. Eira's boots echoed on the stone steps, her fingers brushing the moss-covered railing. Cold sweat gathered at the base of her spine.
Every step deeper felt like peeling away a layer of herself.
The air was thick with magic. Old magic. Heavy and sweet, like the moment before lightning strikes. Her own power hummed in response—fire flickering beneath her skin, restless.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
Kael glanced back. "Because if there's a place left in the world that remembers what you are… it's this one."
They emerged into a massive underground hall, long abandoned. Vines crept along the cracked ceiling. Statues of firebinders lined the walls—some missing heads, some missing hands. But they all had the same flame etched across their chests.
In the center of the room, a dais.
And on it, a throne of obsidian.
---
The Throne of Ash and Flame
Eira stepped toward it slowly, her boots crunching over shattered tile. Her heart pounded. Something called her. Not with words. With memory.
She reached the dais.
And the moment her fingers touched the black stone—
It lit.
Fire burst from the carvings in the throne, curling around its edges in elegant spirals. The ancient runes ignited in brilliant gold, one after the other, like a heartbeat made of light. The entire chamber trembled.
Kael swore, raising his sword.
"Eira—"
"I didn't do anything," she whispered, stepping back.
But the flames didn't burn her. They welcomed her.
"You have returned."
The voice echoed through the chamber—not in sound, but inside her mind. It was warm and terrible and vast, like a memory of the sun.
"Heir of Ash. Daughter of the First Fire. The blood returns."
Eira dropped to her knees, gasping.
Kael caught her before she fell.
"What happened?" he asked, panic behind his calm.
"I—I think it's me," she whispered. "Azareth knew me."
---
Aftershock and Revelation
They sat beneath a broken arch, waiting for the flames to dim. Eira trembled beside him, wrapped in Kael's spare cloak. Her skin glowed faintly still, as though her blood hadn't settled from the fire's touch.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"I don't know what I am."
Kael looked at her for a long moment, then said, "You're Eira Wynter. That's what you are. Fire or not."
She met his gaze. "You believe that?"
"I have to believe it." He smiled faintly. "Otherwise I'm traveling with a god."
A laugh escaped her—sharp, sudden, real. It startled both of them.
Then her smile faded. "The voice said I was 'Daughter of the First Fire.' That I returned. What does that mean?"
Kael leaned back against the stone. "It means your family history is a lot messier than you thought."
She swallowed hard. "Then let's find the truth. Every cursed piece of it."
---
Later — In the Shadows of the Hall
While Eira rested, Kael wandered the old ruins. Something felt wrong. Like the place had woken with the throne. The air shifted, colder. The shadows longer.
And in one dark corridor, he found the wall.
Covered in flame-binder runes.
And a mural.
A woman with Eira's face… burning the world.
Kael stared at it for a long time. Then drew his dagger.
And scratched out her eyes.
---
Far Away — In Elowen's Inner Sanctum
The Queen stood before a basin of starlight water. Her fingers hovered above the surface.
She watched the flames in Azareth ignite.
She watched the throne burn.
"She's found it," she whispered.
Behind her, the Weatherwitch bowed. "Shall I prepare the army?"
Elowen smiled, cruel and cold. "No, my sweet. Let her believe she is winning."
She turned.
"Let her remember who I made her to be."