Chapter Five – Threads of Fire
1053 Words
The truth isn’t always whispered. Sometimes, it screams from shadows.
The morning air was cold and sharp, the kind of chill that crept through gowns and bone alike. Seraphina stood by the window of her chamber, watching the training yard below where squires sparred with wooden blades. She wasn’t interested in their technique or form.
She was watching Nora.
The handmaid moved through the courtyard with a tray of tea for the castle’s clerics. Innocent. Quiet. Efficient.
But Seraphina now knew that Nora had been the one who brought her the poisoned wine on the morning of her false arrest in both lifetimes.
This time, she would not let the handmaid slip away untested.
She turned from the window and pressed the bell pull beside her door.
Within minutes, Nora arrived, curtsying gracefully.
“Your Highness, good morning. Shall I prepare your dressing tray?”
Seraphina turned, smiling. “Actually, Nora, I need something else today.”
Nora blinked. “Of course, my lady.”
Seraphina sat delicately on her velvet chair, fingers laced in her lap. “I want to know who sent you the bottle of Eldori wine last week. The one you served me in the moon room.”
Nora froze. Just for a heartbeat. But Seraphina saw it.
“Your Highness, I, I only serve what the kitchen sends”
“No, Nora. Not the kitchen.” Her voice was calm, but edged. “That bottle was rare. Not from our stores. And I know for a fact you received it from someone directly.”
Nora’s throat bobbed.
Seraphina stood. “I am not accusing you. I am giving you a chance. Whoever asked you to serve me that drink has used you as a pawn. Tell me who.”
Tears welled in the young woman’s eyes. “It was… it was Lady Elira’s man. He said it was a gift. For you. To calm nerves. He gave me a gold pin.”
Seraphina reached into her drawer and pulled out a gold pin. “Like this?”
Nora nodded.
“I want the name of the servant. And I want you to keep your mouth shut. Tell no one I asked you. You will do this?”
“Yes, my lady,” Nora whispered.
Seraphina dismissed her, then sank into her chair.
So the poison plot had already been set in motion. Elira wasn’t just planning, she was acting.
That night, Seraphina walked through the west wing a place she hadn’t dared explore during her first life. It held the temple chambers, the healing halls, and one room she had avoided at all costs.
The Hall of Threads.
Built beneath the original chapel tower, it was a small, circular space rumored to be woven with enchantments. The court claimed it was decorative a nod to the old gods but Seraphina had always suspected otherwise.
Tonight, she needed answers from forces beyond politics.
She opened the heavy door and stepped inside.
The chamber was dim, lit only by moonlight filtering through stained glass. In the center stood a loom made of silver and oak, strings stretched taut like spiderwebs across its frame. A tapestry sat half-woven chaotic, shimmering in shifting threads of red, gold, and deep violet.
As Seraphina approached, the threads moved.
Not wildly. But as if stirred by breath.
The room smelled faintly of incense and thunder.
“Why are you here?” a voice rasped from the shadows.
A woman stepped forward robed in dark purple, with silver coils at her temples. Her eyes were milky white.
Seraphina didn’t flinch. “I need truth. I was born once. I died once. Now I walk again.”
The woman studied her. “You walk because fire remembers you. Because your soul refused silence.”
“Then help me understand why,” Seraphina said.
The weaver turned to the tapestry. “The threads don’t lie. They show what is, not what should be.”
Seraphina looked closer.
In the woven scene, she saw a figure with fire behind her surrounded by wolves in noble coats. A dagger stabbed from behind. A crown dropped in blood. But in the corner, a second crown rose one of ash and light.
“There is betrayal,” the woman said. “But also rebirth. You must choose: justice, or vengeance.”
“They’re the same,” Seraphina said.
The woman didn’t argue.
She only handed Seraphina a folded strip of parchment.
“Give this to the Queen Mother. She’ll know what it means.”
Back in her chambers, Seraphina opened the note. It was a sigil the mark of the ancient Order of Thread Keepers. A blood pact crest, recognized only by the oldest families of the realm.
She tucked it into her gown.
The Queen Mother had hinted at knowing more than she let on. Perhaps this would open the final door.
The next morning, Seraphina joined the Queen Mother in her private garden.
The old woman sipped her tea and raised an eyebrow at Seraphina’s silence.
“You’re troubled.”
“I’ve seen the tapestry,” Seraphina said.
The Queen Mother set her cup down carefully.
“Then you know how this ends?”
“No. But I know it can end differently.”
Seraphina handed over the parchment. The Queen Mother’s lips tightened as she read.
“Do you know what this means?”
“I know it means the fire was no accident. And that someone wanted me silenced before I could ever take the throne.”
The Queen Mother leaned forward. “You want revenge. But you also want power.”
“Yes.”
The Queen Mother smiled faintly. “Good. Then it’s time we made a new arrangement. I will back you. Quietly. But I expect loyalty. When the old lion dies, the cubs will feast. Make sure you're the only one with claws.”
Seraphina nodded once. “I won’t fail.”
That evening, Kael sent another note. He wanted to see her. He wanted answers.
But Seraphina had already made her choice.
She sent a reply:
“Meet me at dawn. Not as your bride. As your equal.”
She folded the letter and sealed it with the crest of fire.
Not the royal dragon.
Her own.
- Writer
