Chapter 89 The Crown, the Flame, and the Fracture
The Flamekeeper’s Hall had never felt so crowded.
Between the Flamebound allies, my increasingly sarcastic companions, the unpredictable antics of Gerald the goat and Quacknor the duck, and the looming threat of Lady Virellian, I was starting to wonder if being Flamekeeper came with a mental health stipend.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
“I’m just saying,” Kael said, lounging on a throne he definitely wasn’t supposed to be sitting on, “if we’re going to be hunted by a flame-wielding royal exile, we should at least get matching cloaks.”
“I vote for armour,” Thessa said. “Preferably enchanted. And stabby.”
“I vote for snacks,” Zeke added. “We’ve been emotionally compromised for three chapters.”
“I vote for silence,” Yuel muttered, flipping through a tome titled ‘Flameborn and the Fall of Empires.’
Ellira was sketching something in her notebook—possibly a battle plan, possibly a duck in a crown. It was hard to tell.
Meanwhile, Milo stood by the window, the black flame flickering in his palm like a heartbeat. He hadn’t said much since Lady Virellian’s appearance. Being the Void’s son came with a lot of existential dread and dramatic staring.
“You, okay?” I asked, joining him.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You’re brooding.”
“I’m allowed. I’m technically a cosmic anomaly.”
“Fair. But if I can be all this so, can you.”
He turned to me. “She’s powerful. Virellian. She’s not just Flameborn. She’s something else.”
“Something worse?”
“Something ancient.”
Before I could respond, a scroll materialized midair and smacked Kael in the face.
“Every time,” he groaned.
Thessa snatched it and read aloud:
Dear Flamekeeper (ugh),
We are aware of Lady Virellian’s return. We are not surprised. We are, however, deeply inconvenienced.
We remind you that your title is ceremonial and does not entitle you to summon ancient allies, declare magical independence, or host ducks in royal chambers.
We suggest you surrender. Or don’t. But if you don’t, we will send the Royal Flame Strategist. He speaks in riddles and wears armour made of regret.
Sincerely (and with a bottle of something stronger),
The one and only Queen & King of Aeloria.
Gerald bleated in protest and headbutted the scroll.
Quacknor quacked aggressively and launched himself at the chandelier.
“Gerald and Quacknor are forming a rebellion,” Kael said. “I support it.”
“They’re more competent than the royal court,” Yuel added.
But the scroll wasn’t the only thing that arrived.
A second figure stepped into the hall.
Tall. Hooded. Eyes glowing with green flame.
“I am the Strategist,” he said. “And I bring a warning.”
Everyone went quiet.
Even Gerald.
Even Quacknor.
“She is gathering the Forgotten Flame,” the Strategist said. “The one that was buried beneath the Hollow. The one that was never meant to burn.”
“The fifth flame,” Yuel whispered. “The one lost to history.”
“She seeks to bind it,” the Strategist said. “And with it, the Rift.”
I stepped forward. “Why?”
“To rewrite the legacy,” he said. “To erase the Flameborn. To become the only flame.”
Milo’s hand tightened around mine.
“She wants to become the Rift,” he said.
“She wants to become everything,” the Strategist replied.
The hall trembled.
The flames flickered.
And the Rift pulsed.
“She’s already begun,” Ellira said, showing us her sketch.
It was a map.
Of Aeloria.
And it was burning.
We gathered in the war chamber—an overly dramatic name for a room with too many chairs and not enough snacks.
Thessa paced. “We need allies.”
“We have the Flamebound,” I said.
“They’re ancient,” Yuel replied. “And bound to the flame. They can’t leave the Hall.”
“Then we find others,” Milo said. “Flameborn who survived. Who hid. We can’t ask our alliance members from before. This is not their fight.”
“There are rumors,” Lira said. “Of a sanctuary. Deep in the Emberwild.”
“Then we go,” I said.
Kael raised a hand. “Can we bring Gerald?”
Gerald snorted.
“And Quacknor?” Zeke added.
Quacknor flared his wings.
“They’re coming,” I said. “Obviously.”
The Strategist stepped forward. “You must hurry. She is already moving. And she has found the first shard of the Forgotten Flame.”
“What does it do?” I asked.
“It unravels,” he said. “It breaks bonds. It severs magic. It erases memory.”
Everyone went quiet.
“I’ve already lost enough,” I said. “We need to stop her.”
We left at dawn.
The Emberwild was a forest of flame-touched trees, glowing leaves, and whispers that didn’t belong to the wind.
Gerald led the way, surprisingly competent for a goat with a vendetta.
Quacknor flew overhead, occasionally dive-bombing squirrels.
“I think he’s asserting dominance,” Kael said.
“He’s doing great,” Zeke replied.
As we walked, the tension grew.
Thessa was quieter than usual.
Yuel kept muttering about flame theory.
Ellira sketched constantly.
Lira hummed a tune that made the trees shiver.
And Milo…
Milo was changing.
The black flame in his hand had grown.
It pulsed with something deeper.
Older.
“You’re not just the Void’s son,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “I’m its heir.”
I stopped walking.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can hold the Rift,” he said. “But I can also break it.”
“Will you?”
“I don’t know.”
We reached the sanctuary.
Hidden beneath a waterfall of flame.
“Who comes up with these places, I mean, really a waterfall of flame?” Kael mutters as he stares at the waterfall in question.
Inside were Flameborn.
Survivors.
Children.
Elders.
And one woman.
Tall.
Scarred.
Eyes like mine.
“My aunt,” I whispered.
She stepped forward.
“You’ve come,” she said. “Too late.”
Lady Virellian had already been here.
She had taken the shard.
And left behind a message.
Burned into the wall.
I will become the flame.
Another scroll appeared.
Thessa read it:
Dear Flamekeeper and Associates,
We are aware of your journey. We are not amused. Nor is this sanctioned.
We remind you that unauthorized flame travel is prohibited. So is goat-led expeditions.
We suggest you return. Or don’t. But if you don’t, we will send the Royal Flame Cartographer. He maps emotions.
Sincerely (and with a headache and growing annoyance),
The one and only Queen & King of Aeloria.
I looked at my friends.
At the Flameborn.
At the Rift.
And I knew—
This was war.