The battlefield was chaos.
Sparks danced in the morning air as steel clashed with steel, arrows darkened the sky, and cries of rage and fear tore through the fields outside Kirevale. Elira moved like a flame through it all—untouchable, untamed.
Every time her feet touched the ground, fire burst from the earth. Every sweep of her arm sent arcs of gold roaring across enemy lines. She didn't just wield fire—she became it.
> "Flameborn!" someone shouted in awe, even as soldiers scattered from her path.
Behind her, Garran and the rebels pushed forward, emboldened by her fury. Even the Crown's soldiers faltered when they saw her eyes burning gold beneath the iron circlet.
---
On the far side of the field, a general in crimson armor raised a horn to his lips. But before the signal could sound, a blade pressed to his throat.
Auren stood behind him, cold and resolute.
> "Blow that horn, and you'll lose your head before the echo fades."
The general dropped it.
Auren turned to the nearby captains. "Stand down. You've seen what she can do. You've felt it. Is the Crown worth dying for today?"
They hesitated. And one by one, they lowered their weapons.
---
Back in the heart of the battle, Elira fell to one knee, exhausted, surrounded by fire and rubble. A soldier lunged for her from behind—but a streak of wind and steel knocked him aside.
Auren.
He offered his hand, eyes searching hers. "It's over. We have the field."
Elira took his hand and rose slowly, firelight casting long shadows behind them.
> "No," she whispered. "This was just the first spark."
---
In the aftermath, the battlefield lay quiet, blanketed in smoke and ash. Rebels gathered around Elira in the town square. Survivors, dreamers, fighters.
Garran raised his sword in salute. "She led us through fire. And we lived."
A chorus of cheers rose up. Some wept. Others knelt. Elira, still reeling, met every gaze with steady purpose.
> "We won today," she said. "But the Crown will come again. Stronger. Angrier."
> "So we must burn brighter."
And as night fell over Kirevale, the people built no pyres, only signal fires—lighting them across the hills like a trail of stars. A call to all who had suffered in silence.
The rebellion had begun.
Author's Note: 5,000 Views! 🔥
Thank you so much, dear readers, for helping The Crown's Curse – A Flame Meant to Burn the Throne reach 5,000 views! Your support means everything. Every read, every vote, and every moment you spend with Elira's journey keeps this flame burning strong.
Let's keep rising together—this rebellion is just getting started. 💥👑🔥
With gratitude,
- Perpetual