Chapter 5: The Ashes Speak Her Name
The flames had died.
All that remained of the Cold Palace was a blackened ruin. Charred stone. Cracked wood. The bones of servants too slow to escape.
And yet… no body.
No corpse of the girl they called the cursed one.
Just ashes.
And whispers.
---
• The Duke's Estate •
Duke Helius Erenthald sat at the head of a long obsidian table. The hall was silent—its walls covered with paintings of past rulers, all scowling down with disapproval.
The man himself looked just as cold. Pale hair slicked back. Eyes like winter steel. Hands folded, unmoving.
Before him knelt a knight, armor singed, cape torn.
"You're telling me," the Duke said softly, "that she set the fire… herself?"
"Yes, my lord," the knight said, bowing low. "We found evidence. A servant's candle was stolen. The bedding was arranged deliberately. We… believe it was arson."
"By a five-year-old?"
The knight swallowed hard.
"We also found footprints leading out of the wreckage. Small. Barefoot. And… deliberate. Not the panicked steps of someone fleeing."
Silence.
The Duke leaned back in his throne-like chair.
"No body," he murmured. "No remains. No signs of death."
"She escaped, my lord."
The Duke didn't move. But something flickered in his eyes.
The last time he had seen the girl, she'd been barely three. Screaming. Eyes red from crying. Power flaring in her blood too early. A threat to the balance of the house.
A mistake.
He'd ordered her locked away in the Cold Palace. Sealed off from nobles and guests. Forgotten.
Now she was back.
And she'd made sure the world knew it by burning her prison to the ground.
"She's dangerous," said a voice from the side.
A new figure stepped into the light—tall, regal, wearing crimson robes embroidered with golden dragons.
Prince Kaelith Auron, Crown Prince of the Empire.
He walked casually, but his presence was sharp, unsettling.
"The nobles are whispering already," he said, circling the room like a cat. "They call it a curse. A rebellion. Some even say it's divine punishment for abandoning the girl."
"Fools," the Duke muttered.
"Maybe," the Prince replied. "But you can't deny the story has power. A child locked in exile. Burned her way out. Vanished into the wild."
He stopped beside the knight and grinned.
"That's the kind of myth that grows teeth."
The Duke said nothing.
Prince Kaelith leaned closer. "What will you do, Lord Erenthald?"
The Duke turned to look at the map carved into the table. His estate. His lands. His legacy.
"If she's alive… she'll return," he said at last.
"To beg? Or to destroy?" Kaelith asked.
The Duke didn't answer.
Because deep in his bones, he already knew.
---
• Elsewhere •
In a tavern near the borders of the wildlands, a bard sang softly.
"…and the girl who lit the fire, with flames that kissed the sky, she vanished like the morning mist, and made the nobles cry…"
People clapped, tossed coins.
A drunk merchant whispered, "They say she's a demon."
A hunter replied, "No. A witch."
A soldier murmured, "A child who escaped the gods."
None of them saw the cloaked woman in the corner, listening.
A courier from the palace. Sent to collect whispers. Sent to trace the ghost of a girl they thought had died.
---
• Deep in the Woods •
Bella stood over a glowing circle of light, etched into the earth with her own hands. The runes pulsed with energy.
Beside her, Thorne watched with folded arms.
"You're drawing attention," he said.
"I know."
"They'll come looking for you."
"I want them to."
She turned, her young eyes glowing faintly with the light of the spell.
"Let them know I'm alive."
She smiled.
"Let them be afraid."