The night was heavy with silence. Elira sat by the fire, the crown glowing faintly against her chest. She could no longer carry the vision alone. The memory burned too deeply.
"Kael," she said softly.
He looked up, eyes steady. "What is it?"
Her voice trembled, but she forced the words out. "The crown showed me… Marlic reaching for you. And you turning away. It whispered betrayal. I had to know if it was true."
Kael's jaw tightened. He set his blade aside, leaning closer. "I did turn away. But not to betray him. To save him. If I had taken his hand, the fire would have consumed us both. I thought I could pull him back later. I failed."
Elira's mark flared, the crown pulsing as if listening. "So it wasn't betrayal?"
Kael's gaze held hers, unwavering. "No. It was mercy. And I will not fail you. Whatever the crown whispers, whatever shadows rise—I will stand with you."
The firelight caught his face, and for the first time, Elira saw not guilt, but loyalty carved deep into his eyes. The crown pulsed again, softer this time, as if testing her resolve.
She nodded slowly. "Then we fight together."
Preparing the Ashbound
At dawn, Kael led her to the ridge overlooking the valley. Smoke still lingered, but beyond it, figures gathered—men and women scarred by war, wielding blades and torches. The Ashbound. Survivors who had resisted Marlic's whispers.
"They've waited," Kael said. "For someone to carry the fire. For someone to lead."
Elira stepped forward, the crown blazing above her. The Ashbound bowed, their voices rising in unison: "Flamebearer."
Her chest tightened. The war was no longer hers alone. It was theirs. Together.
Kael stood at her side, blade drawn. "We'll march before Marlic gathers his full strength. Strike first. Strike hard."
Elira raised her hand, fire blazing against the dawn. "Then let the war begin."