Vireya sipped her tea with shaking hands.
She'd managed to convince the servant to bring it out to the balcony instead of leaving it by the bed. Too many walls in that room. Too much quiet. And the way the fire kept flaring up without being touched had started to unnerve her.
Out here, the wind moved. The scent of mountain pine and ironstone clung to the breeze, sharper than usual tinged with smoke from the far end of the kingdom where the last attack had happened.
Still, it was better than inside.
The tea was hot, steeped in wildroot and dried ginger. Kael's favorite blend. She hated it.
But it was strong. Grounding. Bitter enough to bite back the nausea that had been stalking her since dawn.
Her eyes traced the horizon where the cliffs crumbled into fog and the trees formed an endless shadow.
It was beautiful.
And yet she couldn't breathe right.
Not fully.
Not since the night she'd shifted. Not since she felt the child form inside her like a secret flame. Not since the attacks.
Everything felt heavier now.
Even the sky.
Her fingers tightened around the handle of the cup. Hair curled loose down her shoulders—half wind-tangled, half slept-on. She hadn't bothered with paint for her face. No rings. No silk.
Just her.
Raw.
Worn.
Awake.
And in the stillness, her thoughts crawled backward—uninvited.
To the cell.
To the chains.
To the bruises she'd forgotten to check for.
To the father who never saw her as more than currency.
To the girls who never made it out of places like that.
She was free now. Claimed. Loved, maybe. Feared, definitely.
But something inside her still hadn't unclenched.
She stared at her hand. The ring Kael had given her glinted in the morning sun—deep crimson, like a dried bloodstain.
Beautiful.
But she hadn't chosen it.
She hadn't chosen any of this.
And she wasn't sure if she would've.
Ashira's voice slid quietly through her chest, warm and low.
But you were made for it. You know that.
"I didn't ask to be made," she murmured aloud.
A knock.
Two, light and clipped.
Vireya didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Iska entered anyway—no dramatic entrance this time, no snark, no potion smoke trailing behind her. Just quiet footsteps, her long coat streaked with dirt and salt from the river's edge.
Theoron followed a beat later, less graceful, but somehow heavier in presence. His expression was unreadable, but he nodded once when their eyes met. Respectful. Sharp.
"Still drinking Kael's nightmare brew, huh?" Iska asked, setting down a wrapped bundle without waiting for an invitation.
Vireya didn't speak.
She just took another sip and stared into the trees.
Iska didn't push.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
"It's spreading," Theoron said after a long moment. "The whispers. The tension. People are starting to notice the guards have doubled and that Kael hasn't left the war floor in days. They know something's coming."
Vireya blinked slowly. "Because it is."
Iska exhaled, then sat at the small stone table beside her. She didn't open the bundle. Didn't unwrap whatever artifact she was obviously carrying.
"I've been tracing the magic signatures from the last attack. The blade that cut you wasn't just poisoned—it was marked with a sigil used only by rogue priesthood executioners."
Vireya didn't flinch. "I figured."
"They haven't been seen in over two hundred years," Iska continued. "Someone resurrected that kind of magic. Which means this wasn't random. This wasn't desperation."
Theoron's voice cut in low. "It was strategy."
Vireya looked down at her tea again.
The liquid rippled slightly from the shake in her hand.
Ashira stirred, more awake now. Protective. Watchful. But silent.
Too silent.
"You two are never this calm," Vireya said. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Distant. Worn thin.
Iska hesitated. Then, quietly, "Because this isn't a game anymore. It never was. But we were all pretending like you had time to grow into this… crown."
Theoron stepped forward. "But they know."
Iska nodded. "The ones watching. The ones waiting. They know you haven't hit full power yet. They can feel it. Smell it. Which means they're going to hit again."
Harder.
Smarter.
Bloodier.
Vireya's throat tightened.
"Then tell me what you brought."
Iska slid the cloth open without another word.
Inside was a thin, jagged shard of obsidian. Smaller than her palm. Covered in ancient script—raised and burnt into the surface like scars.
Not just a relic.
A warning.
"I pulled this from the site of a collapsed vault near the outer ridge," Iska said. "It was under a preservation ward. Kael's family symbol was carved into the vault door… but this? This was buried in a side chamber. Hidden from even his ancestors."
Vireya touched it.
And flinched.
The stone screamed in her blood.
Not audibly—but magically. Like a memory not hers forced into her veins.
"Flameborn," Theoron said. "The real kind. Not rumor. Not myth."
Ashira hissed.
The world remembers your name, even if you don't.
She stood suddenly, too fast, the chair scraping the stone.
The nausea returned. So did the spinning.
But this time it wasn't the pregnancy.
It was the truth.
"I'm not ready," she whispered.
No one answered.
She pressed her palm to her lower stomach.
She wanted to be. God, she did.
But all she felt was pressure.
Responsibility.
An entire kingdom leaning on her spine like it was owed.
Iska stood too, slower.
But her voice was clear now.
"You're not ready yet, no. But you're close. And they know that. Which is why they're going to throw everything at you now—before you awaken fully. Before the wolf and the queen merge."
Theoron added, "And the council hasn't returned because someone is stalling them. Keeping them away so you'll be vulnerable when the real strike lands."
Vireya turned back to the railing, fingers gripping the cold stone edge.
The view hadn't changed.
But now it felt like the mountain was watching her too.
Not protecting.
Just waiting.
"What do I do?" she asked, not turning around.
Her voice cracked—just a little.
It burned.
But she didn't hide it.
Iska didn't answer for a long time.
Then—
"You don't bow. You don't flinch. You breathe fire when they expect you to break. And when they come for you next…"
She stepped beside Vireya, placing the obsidian shard gently into her hand.
"You remember whose blood they tried to erase."
Ashira flared.
Let them come. This time, we're not chained