Chapter 136: The Queen of Ash and Fire
Chapter 136: The Queen of Ash and Fire
Screams tore through the palace walls. Steel clashed. Magic crackled like wild lightning.
Kieran unsheathed his blade just as the first soldier of the Black Creed lunged through the shattered doors. The man’s eyes were hollow, unnatural—like death had kissed him and kept him breathing.
Kieran didn’t hesitate. One strike. Down.
“Elara—stay behind me!” Rael shouted, deflecting a bolt of cursed flame.
But she was already moving. Already burning.
The Dominion Flame ignited around her like a living thing—ribbons of gold and scarlet lashing out from her hands. It knew war. It hungered for it.
“GET TO THE VAULT!” Kieran roared, dragging her behind the throne’s hidden lever.
Stone groaned. A stairwell opened beneath their feet.
As they descended into the vault’s depths, Elara staggered.
Her fingers trembled. Her mind swam.
And then—
The memory hit her like a flood.
⸻
Flashback
A throne room bathed in blood.
The last Flamebearer—Queen Seraphine—stood in chains, her crown at her feet.
“I warned you,” she spat. “Power without mercy breeds monsters.”
A man in dark armor stood over her. The first Creedborn.
“You chose the realm over your soul. That was your first sin.”
Seraphine smiled through the blood. “And it will be my last.”
With her final breath, she whispered to the flame: Choose wisely next time.
And the world burned to silence.
⸻
Now.
Elara gasped, stumbling on the last step of the vault stairs.
Rael caught her, eyes wide. “What did you see?”
“Her,” she whispered. “The Queen. The one who burned for us.”
Kieran threw open the vault doors. Inside, the walls pulsed with ancient runes. And in the center… the Blade of Sovereign Flame.
Elara reached for it.
It didn’t burn.
It welcomed her.
But before her fingers could close around the hilt—
A voice hissed from the darkness behind them.
“You’re too late.”
A woman stepped from the shadows. Eyes silver. Skin laced with shadow.
“Hello, sister,” she purred.
Elara froze.
“No,” she whispered. “You’re dead.”
The woman smiled. “Not dead. Just forgotten.”
Elara’s breath caught. The air shifted—thick, cold, wrong.
The woman in shadows stepped forward, each stride echoing like a curse.
“Lyssa,” Kieran rasped, eyes narrowing. “She’s supposed to be—”
“Gone?” Lyssa’s laugh was like breaking glass. “I was. Until she called me back.”
Her silver eyes flicked to Elara. “The prophecy lied to you. You were never the only heir.”
Elara staggered back. “No… that’s not possible. My sister—”
“—Died in your place,” Lyssa finished. “Or so they told you. But mother was a coward. She sealed me in the Abyss to protect you. And now look how well that turned out.”
Flame coiled around Elara’s fingers, wild and unsteady.
“Why come back now?”
Lyssa stepped closer to the blade, tilting her head. “Because that sword doesn’t belong to you. It never did.”
She raised a hand—and the shadows obeyed. They twisted up from the floor like smoke, slamming Rael into the wall, pinning Kieran by the throat.
“You want power, sister?” Lyssa’s voice turned soft, menacing. “Then take it from me.”
Elara moved without thought. Her hand gripped the blade.
A shockwave.
Power exploded outward—fire met shadow. The vault trembled.
Lyssa hissed and fell back, her control cracking.
The blade sang in Elara’s grasp, heat thrumming like a living heartbeat.
But her vision blurred. Her mind pulled—again—into the past.
⸻
A second memory.
Two babies. One cradle. One marked in flame. One cloaked in silence.
The midwife looked at the queen.
“Which one shall we protect?”
The queen wept as she whispered, “The light.”
The other was carried away.
Forgotten.
⸻
Now.
Elara’s grip on the sword tightened.
“I know what they did to you,” she said, voice shaking. “But I am not her. I won’t leave you behind again.”
Lyssa’s expression flickered—pain, hate, longing.
And then she screamed.
The vault shattered with energy as Lyssa vanished into the dark.
Kieran fell to one knee, coughing. Rael pulled free from the wall.
Elara stood alone with the blade in her hand.
And the knowledge that she was never the only one born to burn.
The vault’s silence was suffocating.
Ash floated like snow in the aftermath, drifting between broken stone and fractured sigils that once held ancient power. Elara stood frozen, the blade in her hand pulsing like it breathed. Her heart matched its rhythm—wild, uncertain.
Rael approached first, eyes wary but filled with a quiet awe. “You touched the sword… and lived.”
“I didn’t just touch it.” Her voice was low. “It chose me.”
Kieran coughed beside them, blood smeared at the corner of his mouth. “That wasn’t just any resurrection. Lyssa’s been twisted—reborn in shadow.”
“She’s my sister,” Elara whispered, her voice breaking. “And I have to stop her… or save her.”
The sword glowed in response.
But as she stepped forward, a sudden crack split the air.
From the shattered ceiling above, a glyph flared to life—red, ancient, cursed.
Rael’s eyes widened. “Trap spell.”
Too late.
The floor collapsed beneath them.
Elara’s scream was swallowed by the dark.
⸻
She hit cold stone. Pain lanced through her shoulder. The blade clattered beside her—but stayed close, as if tethered to her soul.
She blinked, adjusting to the new light.
Chains lined the walls. Whispers hissed from the corners. She wasn’t alone.
A figure emerged from the dark—taller than Lyssa, cloaked in bone-gray armor, face hidden behind a mask carved with runes.
“I was promised the sword,” he growled. “And the girl who wields it.”
Elara raised the blade, fire flickering along the edge.
“I’m not a promise,” she snapped. “I’m the reckoning.”
The masked figure stepped closer, his presence suffocating, the air around him rippling with restrained magic.
“You think the sword makes you powerful?” he taunted, circling her. “It makes you targeted.”
Elara tightened her grip. “Then they’ll regret aiming at me.”
He lunged.
Steel met fire—her blade igniting mid-swing. Sparks burst as their weapons clashed. His strength was inhuman, pressing her backward with relentless force. But she didn’t retreat.
She danced with him.
Dodging. Striking. Using the narrow cell to limit his reach. Her movements felt guided, almost possessed—like the sword remembered every battle it had ever fought.
Then—a flash of silver from the corner.
Rael emerged from the shadows, wounded but not broken. He hurled a dagger, striking the enemy’s side. It didn’t pierce through—but it staggered him.
“You’re not alone,” Rael grunted.
The masked man roared, his form flickering with unstable energy. “Fools. You think this ends with me?”
With a burst of cursed light, he vanished.
The silence that followed was heavy, almost sacred.
Elara collapsed to one knee, panting, the sword dimming in her hand.
Rael knelt beside her. “What is that thing?”
Her eyes didn’t leave the blade. “Something older than fate… and twice as dangerous.”
Just then—a whisper.
Elara turned sharply. In the darkness, a pair of golden eyes blinked open.
Not Lyssa. Not a foe.
But something ancient. And watching.