The air in the Undercity was thick with soot and secrets.
Liora moved through its narrow arteries, led only by the flicker of dim lanterns and the quiet footfalls of her hooded guide. Every wall dripped with old iron and rusted sorrow, and the stone beneath her boots seemed to pulse faintly, like a wounded heart buried too deep to heal.
Up above, the towers of the Celestian Court shimmered in sunlight and silken lies. But down here—below the empire's painted mask—truth lived in shadows.
She tightened the crimson cloak around her shoulders. It still smelled faintly of him. Smoke and cold metal. Caidren.
She shouldn't have come. Every instinct screamed it. But after what she'd seen—after what she'd felt in the gardens—there was no going back. Not now.
Her guide, a wiry woman with half her face marked by burn scars, finally paused at a massive blackened door carved from obsidian and bone. "You sure about this, girl?"
"I don't think I've been sure of anything since the day I bled red in a house of gold," Liora muttered.
The woman smirked. "You'll fit in just fine."
The door groaned open, revealing a round chamber choked in torchlight. Hooded figures stood along the walls, but one stepped forward—tall, composed, and frighteningly familiar.
Liora's breath caught.
She knew that face.
"Seris," she whispered. "You're supposed to be dead."
The woman smiled—a slow, bitter curve. "Aren't we all, in our own way?"
Seris Valar. The forgotten daughter. The Ice Empress's firstborn, long rumored to have perished in the Ember Rebellion. Caidren's sister.
But here she stood, not as a ghost—but as a queen of flame and ash.
"You look like your mother," Seris said, circling her. "But your fire... that's not hers. It's old. Older than the Court. Older than me."
"I didn't come here for riddles," Liora said, her voice steadier than her heart.
"No. You came for answers. And blood."
Seris turned, lifting a scroll wrapped in black silk. She let it unravel across a table carved of dragonstone.
Symbols burned into the parchment—runes older than the Empire, older even than the gods.
"The Scarlet Prophecy," Seris said. "Smuggled from the Temple of the First Flame before the royalists burned it down."
Liora approached. Her fingers hovered above the runes, her eyes tracing the lines.
The Crownless Flame shall rise from the ashes of the devoured realm.
The Broken Wolf shall stand at her side, teeth bared to the gods.
One must die for the other to rule.
A shiver climbed her spine.
"Is this why I'm alive?" she asked softly. "Why I feel like fire in a world of ice?"
"Yes," Seris said. "And it's also why they'll kill you the moment they know."
"And Caidren?"
Seris's gaze darkened. "He's the Broken Wolf, Liora. And the crown is cursed for both of you."
---
Back at the Palace...
Caidren knelt on the cold marble before his mother, the Ice Empress. His jaw ached from holding back the words that burned there.
"You hesitate," the Empress said. Her voice could freeze the sun. "You allowed the girl to escape."
"She wasn't a threat," he replied, eyes locked on the floor.
"No," she said. "She was prophecy."
He didn't flinch when the back of her hand struck his cheek. The sound echoed like thunder across the hall of glass and mirrors.
"You will denounce her. Publicly. Before the Court of Flames."
He rose slowly, blood staining the edge of his mouth.
"I'll do what I must," he said.
But in his heart, the lie burned louder than any truth.
---
Later That Night
The garden ruins whispered with wind and moonlight.
Liora stood beneath a dead cherry tree, the scent of ash still clinging to its brittle branches. She didn't hear him arrive—but she felt him.
Caidren stepped from the shadows, his armor glinting with silver runes.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice low.
"I could say the same."
They stood like magnets—drawn and deadly.
"You were supposed to be executed," he said, eyes unreadable.
"And you were supposed to be heartless," she replied.
He blinked, then laughed bitterly. "Guess we're both disappointments."
A silence fell between them, heavy and intimate.
Then: "What do you want, Liora?"
"To burn this place to the ground."
His gaze flickered. "I could help you."
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Why would you?"
He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the cold steel of him.
"Because I'm tired of bleeding for a crown that was forged from lies. And maybe... because of you."
The world narrowed.
Their breaths mingled.
Her hand brushed his. Heat surged—wild, untamed, terrifying.
But just as their lips nearly met—
He pulled back. A shadow passed his eyes.
"If I kiss you, I won't be able to kill you," he said. "And that might be a problem."
She swallowed the hurt. "Then don't kiss me."
He turned. But he didn't leave.
Not yet.
---
The Pact
Back in the Undercity, Seris pressed a strange seal into Liora's hand. It was carved with ancient fire runes, the metal warm as skin.
"When the day comes, press this against the gates of the Obsidian Vault. It will awaken the truth hidden beneath the Throne."
Liora nodded. "And then?"
Seris met her eyes. "Then, you choose who burns."
---
Final Scene
Liora stood on the palace roof beneath a blood-drenched moon.
Caidren was already there, arms folded, waiting.
"You still trust me?" she asked.
"I never did," he said, with a trace of a smile. "But I'll walk with you anyway."
She held out her hand.
He took it.
"Then let's unmake the crown together."
That night, Liora dreamed.
She wore a crown of flame. Caidren knelt at her feet.
But his eyes were hollow, and the sky bled red.
> "One will burn," a voice echoed in her mind.
"One will bleed.
But only one can rule."
---