POV: Seraphina
Lucien Verenor arrived the next morning with dark circles under his eyes and a leather satchel heavy with documents. He still wore the ash-gray robes of the imperial archives, though they looked slept-in now. His dark hair had come loose from its tie, strands falling across his face. He looked like he hadn't slept. Seraphina wasn't sure she had either. The fire-scars had kept her awake most of the night, pulsing with heat that never quite became pain.
Yona had arrived at dawn to check on the progression. Thalion had followed shortly after, claiming he wanted to see Lucien's findings firsthand. Now they waited while Lucien unpacked his work.
Liora stood at her usual post by the door with one hand on her blade, eyes tracking every movement in the room.
"I finished the translation." He set the satchel on the table beside her bed, then hesitated. He pulled out a small cloth bundle. "And I brought tea. For Yona. She mentioned the palace stock was bitter."
Yona looked up from her notes. She was still pale from her own brush with the curse, but she had refused to rest while Seraphina needed her. Surprise crossed her face, then shifted into something softer.
"You remembered that?"
"It seemed important." He set the bundle beside the satchel. His fingers were stained with ink. "I rewrote the translation three times. The first two versions weren't good enough."
"What was wrong with them?" Seraphina asked.
"Uncertainty." He pulled documents from the satchel with careful hands, each page handled like something precious. "You deserve certainty, not guesswork. Your life depends on this translation being right."
She watched him spread the papers across the table. He worked with methodical precision, the documents covered in his cramped handwriting and annotations filling every margin. He smoothed a creased corner with practiced fingers, then caught her watching and ducked his head with a self-conscious smile.
"Forgive me. I get particular about the old records."
"You mentioned that yesterday."
"I mention it often, apparently." The smile almost reached his eyes. "The archives don't have many visitors who appreciate the work. Most people want quick answers. They don't understand that some questions require patience."
Yona moved to examine the documents. Her skepticism from yesterday had softened but not disappeared entirely. Professional caution rather than active distrust.
"Walk me through your methodology," she said. "Some of these symbols predate standard texts."
"Of course." Lucien pointed to the first page. "The base language is Old Celestine, but the ritual terminology uses older roots. I cross-referenced three separate lexicons and noted every passage where I was uncertain." He tapped a margin filled with annotations. "Here, for instance. The word could mean 'stabilize' or 'anchor.' Context suggests stabilize, but I wanted your expertise before committing."
Yona leaned closer and her frown deepened as she read his notes.
"You flagged your own uncertainty."
"I work alone too often. The archives don't correct me when I'm wrong." He stepped back to give her room. "Your eyes are more valuable than my assumptions."
Seraphina watched the exchange. Lucien showed no ego, no defensiveness when Yona questioned his choices. Just quiet competence and genuine deference to expertise. She found herself cataloging his mannerisms, the way he tilted his head when listening, the careful attention he paid to Yona's observations.
Yona's finger stopped on a passage near the bottom of the second page.
"This symbol. You translated it as 'binding,' but in healing contexts, it typically means 'sealing.' The distinction matters for the ritual components."
Lucien studied the symbol for a long moment.
"You're right." He didn't hesitate or argue. "That changes the preparation sequence. Thank you."
He pulled a small notebook from his coat and made a correction. "This is exactly why I needed your eyes."
Thalion had been standing by the window since Lucien arrived, watching and assessing in silence. He moved now, crossing to examine the documents.
"How much did you sleep last night?"
"Enough." Lucien's attention stayed on his corrections. "Some things require personal attention."
A knock at the door interrupted them.
A palace messenger entered wearing formal livery, his posture rigid. His expression meant official business and nothing good.
"Master Verenor. Your presence is required at the Imperial Archives."
Lucien's hands stilled on the documents. "Required by whom?"
"The Senior Imperial Archivist. Immediately."
The room went tense. Seraphina felt it before she understood it.
"Did he say why?"
"Your access to restricted archives has been revoked, effective immediately. You are to return all materials and present yourself for review."
Lucien was quiet for a moment. Then he resumed organizing the documents as if the messenger had mentioned the weather.
"On whose authority?"
"Lord Harwick raised concerns with the Archivist this morning. He believes your research is benefiting a potential threat to the realm."
Harwick. Seraphina knew that name. One of the advisors who had called for her containment during the siege. Old family with long memories and short tolerance for anything that disrupted the order they preferred. He'd led the accusations against her when the dead started walking through the palace corridors.
"Lord Harwick," Lucien said carefully, "is welcome to his concerns. His opinion, however, does not supersede imperial archive protocols."
"The Senior Archivist disagrees. Your access is revoked pending investigation."
Yona's hands had gone still on the documents. Thalion's expression had hardened.
"I see." Lucien finished organizing the papers with unhurried movements. "Please inform the Senior Archivist that I will present myself at his earliest convenience. After I complete my current obligations."
"Master Verenor, I have orders—"
"The Lady Seraphina's condition is time-sensitive. A few hours' delay in my appearance will not change the outcome of Lord Harwick's accusations." His voice stayed level and pleasant. "But a few hours' delay in this research could cost someone their life."
The messenger's jaw tightened. "The Senior Archivist will not be pleased."
"Then he can take it up with Prince Thalion." Lucien gestured mildly toward the window. "Who is standing right there."
The messenger glanced at Thalion. The prince said nothing, but he didn't contradict. His silence carried the weight of royal authority.
"I will relay your response." The messenger's tone had shifted from demanding to careful. He left without further argument.
The door closed with a soft click.
"Well," Lucien said. "That was predictable."
"You expected this?" Seraphina asked.
"I anticipated obstruction from people who fear what they don't understand. The institution is just their weapon." He pulled more documents from his satchel. Different papers this time, older. The parchment was yellowed with age, the ink faded but legible. "Which is why I brought these from the Verenor family archives. Private holdings. Beyond the reach of nervous bureaucrats and their political patrons."
He spread the new documents beside the translations. Something about the way he handled them was different, more careful.
"My family..." He paused. "We keep things we shouldn't. Old habit. Documents that never entered official collections." He met her eyes. "But in this case, it might save your life."
"Why would your family keep records about Flamebearers?" Yona asked.
"We believe in preserving knowledge. All knowledge." His smile looked forced. "Even the uncomfortable kinds."
Thalion examined the new documents.
"You anticipated obstruction from your own institution."
"Harwick believes he's protecting the realm. In his own limited way, he probably is. He simply doesn't understand what's actually at stake."
"And what is at stake?" Seraphina asked.
Lucien paused. His fingers traced the edge of one of the older documents.
"Everything." He looked up at her. "But I suspect you already know that. Yona's research would have told you about the barriers. About what happens when a Flamebearer bloodline ends."
"She did," Seraphina said. "What she didn't tell me is what happens if the preparatory ritual fails. If I attempt the Ember Sanctum without stabilizing first."
"Ah." Lucien's expression shifted. "That's where these records become valuable. Your mother's research was thorough, but the archives she accessed had gaps. Deliberate ones." He tapped one of the older documents. "The preparatory ritual isn't optional. It's essential. Without it, the Sanctum's fire will consume you before you can complete the awakening. You'd burn from the inside out."
The fire-scars pulsed beneath her sleeves, sharper than before.
Thalion spoke. "I'll have my people watch Harwick. If he's coordinating with anyone else, I want to know."
"You think there's more to this than one nervous lord?"
"I think nervous lords don't usually move this fast unless someone's pushing them." He turned to look at her. "Rest. I'll return by evening."
He left without waiting for a response.
Yona began organizing the documents. "I need to check something in my quarters."
Lucien had moved to the window, studying the courtyard below. Yona stepped closer to Seraphina's bedside, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"He seems genuine."
"He does," Seraphina murmured back.
"That doesn't mean he is." Yona held her gaze for a moment, then straightened. "I'll return within the hour, my lady."
Then she was gone, and Seraphina was alone with Lucien and the documents.
Liora remained at the door, silent and watchful.
The silence stretched between them.
"Why?" she finally said.
He turned from the window. "Why what?"
"Why any of this? You're burning bridges for a woman you met yesterday. Your career. Your access. Your reputation." She pushed herself upright against the pillows. "What do you actually gain?"
Lucien was quiet. His hands clasped behind his back.
"Do you want the answer that sounds good, or the answer that's true?"
"Are they different?"
"Usually." He crossed back toward her. "The answer that sounds good is that I believe in knowledge and truth and doing what's right regardless of personal cost."
"And the true answer?"
He looked down. "I'm a scholar who's spent his entire career studying extinction events. Your bloodline. The barriers failing. The patterns in the archives that no one else wants to see." He paused. "I've watched the evidence mount for years. Watched people dismiss it. Been told, repeatedly, that I was seeing patterns where none existed."
He moved back to the window and stood with his back to her.
"And now here you are. Proof that I was right. Proof that everything I've dedicated my life to actually matters." His voice dropped. "Do you know what that's worth to a scholar who's been told his work is meaningless? What I'd sacrifice to see it validated?"
"That's still not the whole truth."
He turned. Surprise in his expression, maybe respect.
"No. It's not."
"What's the rest?"
He crossed to stand beside her bed. Close enough that she could see the ink stains on his fingers.
"The records say Flamebearers save realms." His voice was soft. "And I'd rather be wrong about you than right about letting you die."
It was a good answer. Almost good enough to believe completely.
Before she could respond, the fire-scars flared. Sharp enough that she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. Heat bloomed beneath her collarbone, closer than yesterday.
The conversation stopped.
"You should rest," Lucien said, stepping back. Professional again. "The ritual will require everything you have. We can't afford to lose you at the finish line."
She wanted to press further. But the scars were pulsing now, and the words wouldn't come.
"Tomorrow," she managed.
"Tomorrow." He gathered his personal notes but left the translations on the table. "These stay with you. Yona will need them for the preparation work."
He moved toward the door and paused. "Lady Seraphina."
She looked up.
"Whatever you're not telling me about those fire-scars..." His eyes searched her face. "You should tell Yona. Soon."
Then he was gone, and she was alone with the pain spreading through her chest and the uncomfortable feeling that he'd seen more than she'd intended to show.
Liora moved from the door to stand closer. It was the first time she had spoken since the others arrived.
"I don't like him."
Seraphina almost smiled. Liora didn't like anyone until they'd proven themselves ten times over. It was what made her good at her job.
"You don't have to like him."
Liora said nothing. Her silence was agreement enough.
Yona returned within the hour as promised. Lucien's translations sat on the table where he'd left them, ancient knowledge that might save her life or might mean nothing at all.
The afternoon passed slowly. Seraphina drifted in and out of sleep while Yona worked through the translations, occasionally asking clarifying questions about symbols and terminology. The fire-scars pulsed with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of the deadline pressing down on her.
A knock at the door. Sharp. Urgent.
Liora's hand went to her blade, but Seraphina recognized the pattern. Three short, one long. Siran's signal.
He entered without waiting for permission. That alone told her something was wrong.
"My lady." He was breathing hard, like he'd run the whole way. "Lord Harwick. He's in the great hall. Calling for a tribunal."
"A tribunal for what?"
"For you." Siran's jaw tightened. "He's claiming you conspired with an imperial archivist to access restricted bloodline records for unsanctioned ritual purposes. He's calling it a threat to realm security." His voice hardened. "He wants you detained before any ritual can begin."
The fire-scars pulsed beneath her skin.
Thirteen days to complete the awakening. And Harwick was trying to make sure she never got the chance.