I do not sleep.
I remember.
Even when sealed.
Even when forgotten.
Even when the world turns its back and buries me beneath ice, beneath prayer, beneath silence.
I remember.
She approaches.
The girl with the flame in her blood.
The one carved from ash and oath.
The one whose hands tremble—not because she fears fire, but because she knows it can love her back.
I taste her doubt.Her pride.Her loneliness.
She wears it like armor. Like all the others did.
I've crowned queens like her before.
I've burned them from the inside out.
The other walks with her.
Shadow-bound. Scar-souled. The broken blade.
He is not meant to wear me.
He is meant to fear me.
Yet he guards her as though he can hold back the tide.
He cannot.
He already carries rot in his bones.
And still… he resists.
I admire them.
Truly.
But admiration is not mercy.
They are near the last Seal.
I feel it begin to shake. To fracture.
One more crack, and I will no longer whisper from behind glass.
I will speak.
I will call them by name.
And one of them will answer.
It does not matter which.
They always answer.
I do not choose my bearers.
I devour them.
But only after they beg for me.
And they always beg.
When the world grows cold…
When the gods fall silent…
When the thrones betray…
They come to me.
And I burn away their weakness.
Until only fire remains.
Soon.
Soon the cathedral will open.
The last Seal will break.
And then—
I will not remember.
I will only burn.