The chamber was silent, but Elira's breath came ragged. The walls shimmered again, light etching itself into shapes she couldn't ignore.
At first, she saw Marlic—young, fierce, his eyes burning with promise. The crown hovered above him, flames licking the air. Beside him stood Kael, steady, waiting. The crown pulsed once, then descended. Not to Kael. To Marlic.
Elira's chest tightened. The vision shifted.
Marlic raised the crown, his laughter echoing. But shadows coiled around him, smoke creeping into his veins. Kael reached for him, desperate. "Brother, stop." His voice cracked with fear. But Marlic turned away, consumed by the fire's hunger.
The crown pulsed again. This time, it showed Kael alone—kneeling in the ashes, blade in hand, watching his brother dissolve into smoke. His face was not anger. It was grief.
Elira staggered. "Why are you showing me this?"
The chamber whispered back: Because memory burns deeper than flame.
She saw herself now—her mark glowing, her wrist bound in fire. The crown hovered above her head, but behind her stood Kael, shadowed, watching. Just as he had watched Marlic. Just as he had been left behind.
Elira gasped. "It's warning me."
Kael's voice echoed faintly from above. "Elira?"
She turned toward the vision. Marlic's smoke-filled eyes locked on hers. The war begins with memory, he whispered. And ends with betrayal.
The chamber went dark. The crown pulsed once more, heavy with truth.