The door sealed behind them with a finality that echoed like a drumbeat through the hollow chamber.
Airam's breath caught. The atmosphere beyond the door was suffocating—dense with silence, the kind that pressed against the ears and curled into the lungs like smoke. The walls of the corridor pulsed faintly with veins of gold light, like a heartbeat just beneath stone skin.
Liam stumbled slightly, leaning on her as they stepped forward. "Where... are we now?" he rasped, one hand clutching his ribs.
"I don't know," she whispered. "But something's alive in here."
The corridor opened into a vast dome, ceiling stretching so high that clouds drifted within it. In the center stood a tree—massive, ancient, its bark shimmering with runes and its branches hung with glowing orbs. At its base, a pool of water so still it reflected stars that didn't exist in the sky.
"Is this a sanctuary?" Airam asked aloud, eyes sweeping the room.
"No," came a voice from the shadows, neither male nor female. "It is a tomb."
A figure emerged from behind the tree—tall, cloaked in layered silver-gray robes, face obscured by a mask carved from obsidian.
"I am the Custodian. Keeper of the Forgotten Flame."
Airam stepped forward instinctively, pulling Liam slightly behind her. "Do you serve the First Order?"
The Custodian's mask tilted. "No. I remember what they tried to erase."
The runes on the tree began to glow brighter, casting long, liquid shadows across the ground.
"You are the last heir of the broken flame," the Custodian continued. "But you were never meant to be a vessel."
Airam frowned. "Then what am I?"
The Custodian raised a hand, and from the pool, visions began to swirl—queens from centuries past, their eyes glowing, their blindfolds burning. Some were triumphant. Most died screaming.
"They weren't chosen to rule," the Custodian said. "They were chosen to contain."
Liam's face darkened. "Contain what?"
The Custodian turned to him. "The Breath of the Forgotten. A force older than gods, older than time. Not evil. Not good. Just... free. Untamed. The First Order feared it."
Airam's voice was steady. "So they sealed it inside us."
"And blindfolded you. Bound your magic. Twisted your bloodline into obedience."
Airam approached the tree, drawn to the warmth emanating from it. "But it's still inside me?"
The Custodian nodded. "And it is waking."
She looked down at her hands. Faint flickers of white flame danced at her fingertips—not burning, but alive.
"What happens if I let it out?" she asked.
The Custodian hesitated. "You remake the world. Or you break it."
Liam stepped beside her. "Then you won't face it alone."
Before Airam could reply, the room trembled. The pool rippled violently. From the far end of the chamber, a massive crack split the wall—and through it poured shadows. Dozens. Maybe hundreds.
The Custodian stepped forward, cloak billowing. "The First Order knows you're here."
Airam turned, flames now climbing up her arms. "Then let them come."
The Custodian raised both hands. The great tree groaned—and from its bark, a weapon began to emerge. A staff of white flame, etched with runes that pulsed to the rhythm of Airam's own heartbeat.
She took it in her hands. And in that moment, the shadows stopped moving.
As if recognizing her.
Or fearing her.
Airam raised the staff high. The chamber flooded with light.
And then—darkness.
---
Elsewhere, far above the world…
The High Hall of the First Order rippled with golden energy. The Judge who had faced Airam limped into the center, kneeling before a throne made of light.
"She has entered the Tomb of Origins," he said, blood dripping from his armor. "The flame has awakened."
A chilling silence followed.
Then a voice spoke, ancient and emotionless.
"Then it is time."
The figure on the throne stood.
And behind him, seven more thrones ignited.
One by one, their occupants turned their gaze downward—toward the mortal world.
"Bring me the Queen.