Episode 6: A Letter in the Flame
631 Words
The assassin's blood had barely dried in the stone before the Keep returned to silence.
But Lyxaria couldn't sleep.
Not because of fear.
Because the fire wouldn’t stop whispering.
It hummed beneath her skin, curled around her bones, flickered along her thoughts. The flames had grown more sentient since she’d let them loose in the observatory. As if they recognized that she was finally listening.
Tonight, they pulled her to the old wing of the Keep. Abandoned, warded, locked for over a century. No guards. No torches. Just a heavy iron door sealed with obsidian.
The kind of place power tried to forget.
She pressed her palm to the surface. The door hissed beneath her touch, recognizing the heat of her blood. The wards shattered like dry glass. When the door creaked open, the scent of smoke and rosewater hit her like a memory.
This room had once belonged to a woman.
And not just any woman.
Her mother.
A single chest sat in the center of the room, half-covered in soot and vines. Lyxaria stepped closer, pulse rising. The lid groaned as she pushed it open, revealing only ash—
And one surviving scroll.
It was wrapped in fire-silk. The edges shimmered. Her fingers trembled as she unrolled it.
Lyxaria,
If you’re reading this, it means they didn’t kill you. It means the fire survived.
You are the last of us. But you are also something more.
You are the first of what’s coming.
You were born of two bloodlines that were never meant to meet. Flame and shadow. Light and dark. Creation and destruction. That union was forbidden for a reason.
Because together… they awaken what even the gods feared.
You.
Choose carefully, my daughter. If you give your heart to the wrong one, it will not break.
It will burn the world.
Your father loved me once. But he feared me in the end.
I pray yours won’t do the same to you.
Run if you must. Rule if you can. But never forget who you are:
You are fire. And fire does not bow.
— Rhianna Virell, Queen of Flame
Lyxaria’s breath caught. The scroll trembled in her hands. She didn’t know if the tears burning in her eyes came from sorrow, or rage.
Behind her, a voice echoed in the doorway.
"You found it."
She turned sharply. Rhaekos stood in the shadows, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"You knew this was here?" she asked, voice ice-sharp.
"I suspected," he said. "But I was told never to speak of it. The High Lords sealed this wing. Said it was cursed."
"Cursed with truth, you mean?"
His silence confirmed it.
Her heart throbbed. Not from affection. From betrayal.
"You knew what I was," she said. "Long before the chain burned. Before the fire spoke. You knew."
Rhaekos met her gaze, and for the first time, the calm in his eyes cracked.
"I knew your mother. Not well. But enough to know that if her blood lived… it would change everything."
"You didn’t tell me."
"Would you have trusted me if I had?"
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Because the truth was… she didn’t know.
And that terrified her more than the prophecy.
More than the fire.
Because if she couldn’t trust him — the one person who saw through her armor — then she truly had no one.
Except the flame.
And the flame didn’t lie.
It just burned.
She let the scroll drop into the fire. The parchment flared, golden and red, dissolving into ash.
When she looked up, her eyes were glowing.
And for the first time, Rhaekos took a step back.
"From now on," she said quietly, "no more lies."
His expression darkened. "And if I do lie?"
Lyxaria smiled coldly.
"Then I burn you next."
- Writer
