Chapter 88 The Flamekeeper, the Princess, and the Duck with a Vengeance
Being declared Flamekeeper, Emberleaf, and Next ruler of Aeloria came with a lot of responsibility, a ceremonial sash that looked suspiciously like a curtain tie, and a royal decree that smelled faintly of disappointment.
Additionally, it seemed I was now a princess.
“Technically,” Yuel said, flipping through a scroll, “you’re the Princess of Emberleaf, which is a ceremonial title given to the Flamekeeper. It comes with a crown made of fire and a lot of passive-aggressive expectations.”
“Do I get a castle?” I asked.
“No,” Kael said. “You get a tower. With stairs. Lots of stairs.”
“Symbolic,” Thessa added. “Of your rise to power. And your descent into madness.”
“I’m already halfway there,” I muttered.
“Halfway isn’t completely there, so there is time to fully commit,” Talon says as he looks out over Aeloria.
We were back in Aeloria, standing in the Flamekeeper’s Hall—a place that smelled like ancient magic, burnt parchment, and unresolved trauma. The Flamebound allies had returned with us, silent and watchful. The vision of my mother had vanished again, leaving only soft words floating on the breeze “Find me in the fire.” Helpful.
Milo stood beside me, the black flame still pulsing in his palm. He hadn’t spoken much since the Hollow. Being the Void’s son came with its own baggage, and apparently, a tendency to brood near windows.
“I’m fine,” he said, not looking at me. He was doing that a lot lately, never making eye contact. Sure, Calyx gave a lot of uncomfortable information, but everyone was affected, not just him.
“You’re lying,” I replied.
“I’m lying whilst brooding, it’s a skill, one I have perfected over the time being here,” he said.
“Fair. We have all had to adjust.”
Ellira, Zeke, and Lira were arguing over the logistics of Flamekeeper duties.
“You can’t just declare war on the Queen,” Lira said.
“I didn’t declare war,” I said. “I declared independence for the good of Aeloria. I am not taking anything from her.”
“That’s worse, and also just a threat to come that the Queen will not like,” Zeke muttered.
Ellira nodded. “She’s going to send someone. Or something.”
“It’s going to happen sooner rather than later, too,” Yuel mumbles around a mouth full of cake.
As if summoned by sarcasm, a scroll materialized midair and smacked Kael in the face.
“Every time,” he groaned. Rubbing his face and glaring at the scroll.
Thessa snatched it and read aloud:
Dear Flamekeeper (ugh),
We are aware of your ascension. We are not impressed.
We remind you that the title of Princess of Emberleaf is symbolic and does not entitle you to rebellion, revolution, or redecorating.
We are sending the Royal Flame Mediator. He speaks in haiku and carries a bell.
We suggest you cooperate. Or don’t. But if you don’t, we will not acknowledge this frace any further. Really you saved Aeloria this does not entitle you to ruling Aeloria.
Sincerely (and with a headache),
The One and only Queen & King of Aeloria.
“Wait,” Kael said. “Quacknor you can’t eat that scroll it is treason?”
“Oh no,” Yuel whispered. “Not the duck.”
From the hallway came a sound.
Quack.
And then—
QUACK.
Quacknor burst into the room, feathers flared, eyes glowing with eldritch fury. He wore a tiny crown and a sash that read “Royal Enforcer.”
“He’s back,” Thessa said. “And he’s angrier.”
Quacknor launched himself at Gerald, the goat, who had been quietly chewing on a tapestry.
Gerald bleated in alarm and headbutted the duck.
Chaos ensued.
Feathers flew. Scrolls exploded. Someone screamed.
“I love this kingdom,” Kael said, dodging a flying quill.
Eventually, Milo caught Quacknor mid-air and held him upside down.
“Calm,” he said.
Quacknor blinked.
And quacked softly.
“Crisis averted,” Zeke said. “For now.”
But the real crisis was just beginning.
Because the Queen hadn’t just sent her disapproaval she would send someone else or something else.
A new enemy was coming.
A woman stepped into the hall.
Tall. Pale. Eyes like frozen fire.
She wore armor made of obsidian and flame.
“I am Lady Virellian,” she said. “The Queen’s best friend and advisor. And you’re reckoning.”
Everyone went quiet.
Even Gerald.
Even Quacknor.
“She’s real,” Yuel whispered. “She was exiled centuries ago. For trying to bind the Rift.”
“She’s back,” Milo said. “And she’s Flameborn, I can feel it.”
Lady Virellian smiled. “I am the true heir. The flame chose wrong.”
She raised her hand.
And the flames in the hall flickered.
“Your legacy is a lie,” she said to me. “Your mother stole the flame. You are a thief, a problem that should never have been born. Both you and your abomination of a brother.”
“I’m a survivor,” I said.
“You are a mistake.”
The silver flame in my chest pulsed.
The black flame in Milo’s hand surged.
The green flame shimmered in the air.
And the violet flame—my mother’s—flickered in the distance.
Lady Virellian stepped forward. “I will take what is mine.”
“You’ll have to go through all of us,” Thessa said, drawing her blade.
Kael stepped beside her. “And the goat.”
Gerald snorted.
Zeke raised his crossbow. “And the duck.”
Quacknor flared his wings.
Yuel, Lira, and Ellira formed a circle of protection.
Milo took my hand.
“We’re ready,” he said.
Lady Virellian smiled.
“You’re not.”
She vanished.
Leaving behind a single flame.
Black.
And cold.
Another scroll appeared.
Thessa read it:
Dear Flamekeeper and Associates,
We are aware of Lady Virellian’s return. We are deeply inconvenienced.
We suggest you resolve this. Or don’t. But if you don’t, we will send the Royal Flame Historian. He speaks in riddles and wears velvet. Also, we ask that you keep the goat hair and duck feathers to a minimum.
Sincerely (and with a resignation letter drafted),
The one and only Queen & King of Aeloria.
I looked at my friends.
At Milo.
At the flames.
At the kingdom.
And I knew—
This was just the beginning.