The ruins of the capital were quiet.
Too quiet.
Midnight cloaked the broken city in silver fog. Moonlight painted shattered statues and crumbling towers in ghostly shades. Elarié stood at the edge, cloaked in black, her hood drawn low. Her fingers tightened around the scroll, now singed with fresh burn marks that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Jihoon crouched beside her, eyes scanning the shadows. "If we're being watched, they're good at hiding it."
"They're not hiding," Elarié whispered. "They're waiting."
She stepped forward, her boots crunching against charred bones and shattered stone. Every breath she took felt like inhaling secrets. Her mark—now glowing faintly—throbbed in rhythm with the wind, guiding her deeper into the dead city.
In the distance, the broken palace of Aurellon rose from the earth like the skeleton of a god. Its jagged towers reached for the stars as though desperate to rewrite the heavens.
A voice echoed from the dark.
"You came."
Elarié froze.
Kai emerged from the shadows—silent, devastating, dressed in obsidian armor that shimmered like the night itself. His eyes held storms, his hands a blade sheathed in darkness.
"You were never supposed to find this place," he said softly.
"Yet here I am."
He smiled, pain woven into it. "Of course you are. You were always meant to rise… even if it meant burning everything in your path."
Jihoon stepped between them. "Don't come closer."
Kai didn't move. He looked at Elarié with a strange mixture of longing and grief. "You don't know what your blood means, do you?"
"I know enough," she shot back. "That I'm the last of the Phoenix line. That I've been hunted since birth. That someone close to me—"
"—was the one who broke the seal?" Kai interrupted, voice like velvet dipped in poison. "Yes. And that someone is me."
The words cut like glass.
Elarié's world tilted.
"You…?" she breathed.
Kai's expression didn't change. "I was sent to watch you. Guard you. Kill you… if your powers awakened too early. But I failed."
Jihoon moved fast, blade drawn. "So you admit it—you're Creed."
"No." Kai stepped forward. "I'm worse. I was once their prince."
Silence.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Elarié felt as if her soul had been knocked out of her body. "You were part of the Obsidian Creed?"
"I was born to them," he said, voice cracking. "But I was never truly theirs. I saw you… and everything changed."
Her lips trembled. "So all of it—your friendship, your kiss—was it all a lie?"
"No," he said. "That was the only truth I've ever known."
The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Jihoon cursed. "We need to go. They're coming."
From the ruined palace, a monstrous figure rose. Cloaked in shadows, its eyes burned crimson. Dozens more followed behind.
The Creed had arrived.
Kai drew his blade. "I'll hold them off. You two—run."
Elarié shook her head. "I'm not leaving you."
"You have to. The throne is waking up, Elarié. And only you can claim it before they do."
Another blast shook the earth.
Jihoon pulled her back. "We'll come back for him."
But Elarié hesitated—her heart torn between war and love, duty and trust.
And as she turned to run, the wind whispered a final warning in her ear:
"Not everyone who loves you… will save you."
The palace trembled again, sending loose stones tumbling from above. Elarié's heart pounded in her ears as Jihoon yanked her back, eyes wild with panic. But her gaze remained locked on Kai.
"You lied to me," she said, barely above a whisper. "You lied… and I still want to believe you."
A roar erupted from the Creed's beasts as they charged forward, their shadows stretching like ink across the ground.
Kai turned, blade drawn, his aura shifting—darker now, but not cruel. Powerful, but not evil. "Then believe this—if they get to you, it's over. You are the crown, Elarié. The throne is not a seat... it's a soul. It will choose."
"And if I don't make it?" she asked.
Kai gave her one last look, his voice trembling. "Then the world ends."
Before she could stop him, he rushed into the fray, sword flashing silver in the moonlight, clashing against the monstrous shadows. One beast lunged—he spun, cut, fell, rose again. Elarié could barely breathe.
Jihoon dragged her behind a crumbling wall, his arm protecting her as debris rained down.
"We can't stay here!" he shouted. "The Temple of Embers—your father's bloodline left it beneath the old citadel. It's the only place that can unlock what's sleeping in you."
Elarié's eyes flicked toward Kai, who was now engulfed in flames and fury, holding back a dozen creatures alone.
"I'm not ready," she whispered.
Jihoon gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "No one ever is. But if you don't move now, you'll never get the chance."
Something ancient stirred within her—deep, roaring, calling her name. The mark on her hand blazed gold, then red. Her vision blurred. The crown was waking.
Suddenly, her feet began to move—through instinct or destiny, she couldn't tell.
As she and Jihoon ran toward the hidden temple, she looked back once more. Kai turned his head. Their eyes locked.
And in that frozen second, everything else faded.
Not the roars. Not the burning. Just him.
A promise in his gaze. A heartbreak waiting to happen.
And then, the earth split.
A blinding flash of crimson light erupted behind them—fire, fury, shadows twisting. A scream echoed into the night, not just human… something more. Something cursed.
Elarié screamed, "KAI—!"
But the darkness swallowed him.
Everything shook.
The ground gave way.
And Elarié fell… down, down, down… into the heart of the forgotten city.
Where the throne waited.
Where her destiny would be sealed.
Silence.
A heavy, swallowing silence.
Elarié's body hit the ground with a breathless thud, cushioned only by timeworn vines and crumbling earth. The glow on her hand pulsed like a heartbeat—her heartbeat—faint, erratic, but alive.
Dust clouded the air as Jihoon tumbled down beside her, groaning, bleeding at the forehead but conscious. He gritted his teeth, stood, and reached for her. "Are you hurt?"
"I don't think so," she whispered, staring around.
They were no longer in the palace. No longer near Kai.
They had fallen into a vast cavern lit by faint embers glowing in the stone walls—ancient runes whispered from every crevice, and a faint melody hummed in the air, one only she could hear. The Temple of Embers wasn't just hidden—it was alive.
Elarié's knees trembled. Something in her bones recognized this place.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open, revealing a staircase carved of obsidian. Flames burst to life on either side, forming a path down to a glowing throne embedded with seven stones, all dim… except one.
The center stone blazed with fire—the same fire burning in her veins.
Jihoon's voice was soft now. "Your blood opened it."
"No," she whispered. "It called me."
As she took a step forward, each flame bowed in her presence, flickering in reverence. Her shadow stretched longer with every step, bending into the shape of wings.
And then—
A voice echoed.
Low. Cold. Familiar.
"You were never meant to rule, Elarié. You were meant to be a vessel."
She froze. That voice wasn't from the temple.
It was from above.
Kai's voice… but warped. Twisted.
Jihoon's sword was out in a flash. "He's here. Or something wearing his face."
Elarié backed toward the throne. "That wasn't him. It can't be."
But the shadows spilled down the stairs, faster than any wind, creeping like liquid sin. The crown atop the throne began to glow.
Then the stone walls shook again, this time from within.
Carved faces along the temple wept glowing blood, and from behind the throne, a figure stepped out—a woman clad in armor of smoke and gold, her eyes hollow with stars burning inside.
"The Queen has returned," the woman said. "And now the world will bleed for it."
Elarié's hand burst into flames.
Jihoon raised his sword.
The figure grinned.
And then—
Everything turned black.
The temple trembled again, this time with a rhythm—like a heartbeat from the earth's core itself. Jihoon instinctively stepped in front of Elarié, shielding her with his body even as her hand blazed with unholy fire.
The armored woman stepped forward, the flickering flames bending around her like obedient servants. Her voice was smoke and prophecy, cold as obsidian.
"The Temple recognizes its heir. But the blood you carry does not belong to you alone."
Elarié clenched her fist. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, sharp and knowing. "I am what you will become if you're not careful."
Jihoon growled. "Step back, Elarié. This thing—whatever it is—feeds on fear."
But Elarié didn't move.
Because in the woman's glowing, starry eyes… she saw herself.
Not as she was now—but as a queen on a throne of fire, her smile cruel, her empire scorched. Cities bowing. Lovers broken. Alone.
"No," Elarié said, trembling. "I would never—"
"You already are," the woman whispered.
The flames in her palm flared uncontrollably, crawling up her arm, scorching the fabric of her gown. Jihoon rushed to her side, grabbing her wrist. "Elarié, fight it! You're not her!"
But the fire only responded to her fear. Shadows danced madly across the ancient temple walls, whispering, chanting—Queen of ash… Queen of ruin… Queen of betrayal…
Suddenly, the crown above the obsidian throne floated into the air. Each of its seven gems pulsed—six dead, one ablaze in furious orange-red. The crown trembled, and then—
It shot toward Elarié's chest.
"No!" Jihoon shouted, diving forward—
But it was too late.
The crown collided with her, not physically—but spiritually. Her body jerked back, her eyes flaring molten gold as power, ancient and violent, surged through her like lightning. The temple roared in response.
Screams—not hers—echoed from the walls. A thousand voices. A thousand queens who had come before her. Dying. Burning. Cursed.
And then… silence.
Elarié collapsed.
Jihoon caught her, barely able to keep upright. Her breathing was shallow. The crown had vanished—but a symbol now glowed on her collarbone. A flame-shaped sigil carved in light.
Behind them, the armored woman stepped backward into the wall, smiling. "You've awakened it. Now the gods will come."
And with that, she vanished in ash.
Jihoon looked down at Elarié's unconscious face.
"She didn't choose this," he murmured.
But the runes on the wall said otherwise.
She is the Ember Queen.
And war will follow her.