They descended into the valley at dawn.
It was not marked on any map.
It was not spoken of in any town.
Mistvalley was the kind of place known only in lullabies meant to warn children and in nightmares old warriors never described.
And yet—there it was.
A vast basin cloaked in silver fog, rolling like a living thing, swallowing the ground, the trees, the sky. The mist never parted. It only breathed.
Halric tightened his cloak. "If this place kills me, I want my grave marked 'died for someone else's prophecy.'"
"Noted," Aryelle said dryly.
Kael said nothing.
His shadows refused to enter the mist.
The Descent
Once inside, the world changed.
Colors dulled. Sounds warped. Aryelle's breath echoed like it was being whispered back by something behind her.
The path twisted even though their feet moved straight. Trees leaned in. The sun vanished entirely.
"We're being watched," Kael said quietly.
Halric chuckled nervously. "Everything in this place is watching. The dirt, the trees, my own belt buckle."
Then a voice called out.
Not from the mist.
From Kael.
It was his voice. But twisted.
"Traitor. Murderer. You will never be anything but a blade in the dark."
Kael paled.
Aryelle grabbed his arm. "It's not real. It's the mist."
Then another voice echoed.
Hers.
"Queen of Ash. Fire-born curse. You'll light the pyre that ends the world."
They pressed on.
Until they saw her.
A woman, standing in a clearing where the mist parted like a curtain. She wore black and gold robes, thorns stitched into her sleeves. Her face was calm, regal.
And glowing on her right shoulder…
The mark.
Aryelle's mark.
The Other Flamebearer
The woman smiled. "At last, we meet."
Aryelle raised her blade. "Who are you?"
"I am Valyne. And I bear the flame."
Halric blinked. "Another one? Are these marks being handed out like festival candy?"
Valyne laughed softly. "I am the first. The true bearer. Chosen before you were even born."
Aryelle narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."
Valyne raised a hand—and fire erupted from the trees behind her. A perfect circle. Controlled. Ancient.
Kael stiffened.
"That fire's wrong," he murmured.
Aryelle noticed it too—the heat didn't warm. It just consumed.
Valyne stepped forward. "The Crown is not yours, girl. The world doesn't need mercy. It needs rebirth."
Aryelle readied her blade. "You sound like a priestess."
"No," Valyne said, her smile fading. "I'm what comes after the priestesses fail."
Flame vs Flame
Valyne attacked without a warning flare.
Just motion—a blur of gold and crimson, fire splitting the air.
Aryelle barely dodged. Kael met the second strike, steel clashing against magic.
Halric dove behind a rock with a muttered, "Gods preserve us."
The fight was not wild.
It was precise.
Aryelle didn't feel like she was fighting a stranger.
She felt like she was fighting a reflection of everything she could become—if she stopped caring, stopped choosing, stopped feeling.
Valyne smiled mid-duel.
"You're hesitating. That's why you'll lose."
Aryelle's mark burned.
She stepped in. Pivoted.
Struck.
Valyne staggered back, flame leaking from her mouth like smoke.
She looked amused.
"Very well. You've earned the next clue."
Then she vanished—burning into ash.
Aftermath
Kael helped Aryelle to her feet. "You alright?"
Aryelle nodded. "She said she was the first."
"She wasn't," Kael said. "But she believes she was."
Halric poked a pile of ash with his boot. "Can we never come here again?"
Deep in the mist, a stone altar cracked open.
Inside it?
The Second Seal.
Unbroken. Waiting.
And watching.
***
The altar pulsed.
A slab of stone covered in runes that bled golden light, half-swallowed by tangled roots and mist.
Aryelle approached slowly, mark on her shoulder glowing in sync. Kael and Halric stood close, tense.
"No traps?" Halric asked.
Kael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Aryelle reached out.
The moment her fingers touched the altar—
Everything unraveled.
There was no Mistvalley.
No Kael.
No Halric.
No cold.
Just a throne room, burning in gold fire.
Aryelle stood at its center, cloaked in red and thorns, the Crown on her head. Her hands were drenched in ash and blood. Below her—corpses.
Friends. Enemies. Everyone.
Kael lay at her feet.
He was smiling.
But his chest was open.
Empty.
"I warned you," his voice echoed.
"You chose to rule."
She turned—into another scene.
A mirror version of herself stared back from an obsidian pool.
Cold. Crowned. Cruel.
"You keep fighting who you are," Mirror-Aryelle said.
"I'm not that," she growled.
"You're becoming it," the reflection whispered. "And I'm not afraid to finish what you won't."
Aryelle stepped back.
The pool shattered.
Halric's Trial
Somewhere else—Halric stood alone in a burning village. A dozen children looked up at him, screaming.
He turned his sword on himself.
"No!" Aryelle's voice echoed—but he couldn't hear it.
"I ran once," he muttered. "I don't get to run again."
The fire swallowed him.
Kael's Trial
Kael knelt in shadow, his younger self staring at him—barefoot, bloodless, hopeful.
"You could have saved him," the boy said.
"I tried."
"No. You obeyed. You always obey. That's why the fire needs her."
The shadows writhed.
Kael drew his blade.
"No more kings," he said. "No more gods."
He drove it through his own chest.
Aryelle Awakes
With a gasp, she tore herself from the vision.
The altar cracked.
Kael and Halric were slumped beside her—alive, panting, pale.
The Second Seal floated above the altar now.
A golden thorn-wheel.
Spinning slowly. Radiating quiet power.
Aryelle reached out.
Her mark flared.
And the seal burned its shape into her palm.
One more lock undone.
As they left Mistvalley…
Kael was silent.
Halric avoided eye contact.
And Aryelle?
She didn't look back.
But in her reflection, she swore her eyes had glowed.
Just for a second.
Far beneath the Frost Queen's palace, something cracked.
A third throne—ancient and sealed in ice—shuddered.
The final Seal was calling.
And with it, the Crown.