The coronation fire had long since cooled, yet Elizabeth felt it burning inside her still.
Crimson Ridge buzzed with energy diplomatic envoys, mage scholars, and training recruits, but Elizabeth’s world had narrowed to something quieter. Deeper.
It started as a thrum beneath her skin. Then dreams visions of a temple lost beneath sand and sky, where a single flame burned atop a spire of gold. Each morning she awoke breathless, the taste of ash and sunlight on her tongue.
Lucian noticed. “You’re hearing it again, aren’t you?”
She nodded, tightening the leather bracer around her forearm. “The second flame. It’s calling.”
He crossed the chamber, cupping her jaw in his hand. “Then we follow it. Together.”
Aria was already waiting when they reached the war room.
“I saw it,” she said befor
