The map changed overnight.
Not from war.
From heat.
The parchment had been untouched on Selene's strategy table when it began to curl inward, forming a spiral from its edges. The rivers smudged, the mountains darkened, and the city names faded like breath on glass.
Only one word remained, inked in red where the flame veins converged:
Seventh.
Selene stared at it in silence.
She had seen many omens in her life.
Dreams. Whispers. Visions carved into smoke.
But this?
This was not a prophecy.
It was a claim.
And it meant only one thing:
There were six others.
Ingrid stood behind her, watching carefully.
"What does it mean?"
Selene answered without turning.
"It means I'm not fire's final voice."
She summoned the Ember Veil's ancient files, scrolls sealed beneath blood-magic sigils from before Veredon even had walls.
One by one, they were brought up from the vaults and unrolled on the obsidian table in the war chamber.
Each scroll contained a symbol: flame, twisted into different shapes.
One in the shape of a crown.
One shaped like a serpent's eye.
One like a falling star.
One like a tree with roots burning upward.
One formed of seven fingers reaching for a spark.
And the last… blank.
Until Selene touched it.
Then fire traced its way across the page.
And bloomed into a new emblem:
A ring of embers enclosing a mirror.
Cassian arrived as the scroll burned at its edges.
He didn't speak.
He simply laid down a single obsidian shard, pulled from the Flame Tower's base after it cracked days ago.
It matched the mirror sigil perfectly.
Selene spoke quietly:
"They knew about me before I ever knew myself."
The room turned colder.
Not from ice.
From presence.
The Flame didn't flicker. It didn't roar. It listened.
Because Selene was no longer the only flame it answered to.
Ingrid sorted the scrolls again.
Seven.
Seven signatures.
Seven centers of ignition.
"And only one sat the throne," she whispered.
Selene nodded slowly.
"For now."
She turned to the Veil commanders.
"I need them found."
"Who?" one asked.
"The Six."
"The others like me."
The room fell still.
"Do we kill them?"
"No."
Her voice was firm.
"We ask one question."
"Which side are they on?"
It wasn't long before the first spark responded.
The second flame revealed itself not in fire.
But in song.
A melody drifted through the northern winds, carried across half a continent by air too dry to carry notes.
And yet, it reached the Flame Hall.
Selene heard it while sleeping.
A lullaby in a language she didn't know.
But understood.
"The Seventh does not lead."
"She follows."
"She burns last so she may bury the rest."
"Come find us, Sister of the Mirror."
"We remember when your fire begged to be born."
Selene woke breathless.
Not afraid.
But recognized.
The song had not spoken to her ears.
It had hummed in her bones.
And the fire inside her chest…
Shifted.
In the palace courtyard, the flames bowed again.
But not just to her.
To something beyond the walls.
By morning, statues across three provinces melted.
Not by heat.
But by names whispered at their base:
"First."
"Second."
"Third."
The fire counted.
And Selene was seventh.
She walked the Hall of Scribes barefoot.
In silence.
As she passed, the flame glyphs lit one by one.
Until she reached the mirror chamber.
The one that had once reflected the Mirror.
She stood alone.
And waited.
The glass didn't ripple.
It bloomed.
With light.
A figure stepped through, not made of fire, not made of ash.
But of memory.
A woman cloaked in sunsteel, face hidden, hands glowing with blue flame.
Selene raised her chin.
"Which are you?"
The figure bowed.
"The Fourth."
"The Flame of Endings."
Selene stepped closer.
"You sent the song?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
"The Second."
"Why now?"
The Fourth looked up.
And when she spoke, it felt like bells ringing in a tomb.
"Because you burned too brightly."
"And now the world remembers what we were."
Selene steadied her breath.
"What do you want?"
The Fourth tilted her head.
"We came to see."
"See what?"
"If you were ready to lead."
"And if I am?"
"You still burn."
"And if I'm not?"
The Fourth smiled.
"You still burn."
The mirror closed.
Selene stood in its silence, breathing hard.
But something in her chest felt heavier now.
Not painful.
Just awake.
Like the fire inside her was no longer alone.
She returned to the war room.
Tore down the map of enemy kingdoms.
Replaced it with a blank canvas.
Drew a spiral.
Seven circles.
One name at the center:
SEVENTH.
And then, beneath it, in her own hand:
"If I am the last…"
"Then I decide how it ends."
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