The amphitheater of Velkareth trembled as ancient magic coiled through the air like living flame. The sky above the ruins had darkened unnaturally, clouds churning in silent circles around a pulsing red core. Four shards hovered behind Isara, each crackling with power, rotating slowly around her like moons around a dying sun.
Kaelin stood at the shattered archway of the plaza, her allies at her back, her blade lowered—but ready.
Isara stepped down the ruined dais. "So many roads led here, Kaelin. The fragments of a crown. The whispers of power. And look—we both stand as queens. One of choice. The other of legacy."
Kaelin’s voice cut like steel. "You don’t understand legacy. You twist it."
"I honor it," Isara said, her red eyes gleaming. "Velkareth is the crucible of flame. It made king
