King Harran's letter lingered in the King's thoughts, its words still burning long after the scroll had been put away.
It wasn't just a congratulatory note.
It was a warning.
A turning point.
A summons.
Elara sat amidst the royal greenhouse,
surrounded by lilies that only bloomed under the moonlight. The glass roof above shimmered with dew, casting soft, silver patterns across the tiled floor. Her fingertips hovered above the petals, not quite touching, just sensing the vibrant energy that now hummed through everything.
She wasn't alone.
"He rides with a thousand men," M. said, emerging from the deep shadows of two towering ivies. "Prince Kael. Crown heir of Eldoria."Elara looked up, her expression giving nothing away.
"The prince of the North," she murmured, slowly.
"He's more than that," M. replied, a low hum in his voice. "He's King Harran's only son.
Forged in fire. Schooled in war. Not easily impressed."
"Is he here for an alliance?"
"He's here for what the stone chose," M. stated. "And now the world believes it chose you."
A silence stretched between them.
Elara remained still, but her pulse quickened.
"Let them come," she whispered. "Let him
see for himself."
At the palace gates, drums began a deep, resonant rhythm. Horns sounded through the mountain wind. Eldorian banners unfurled, crimson and silver, emblazoned with the sigil of a wolf crowned in fire.
Prince Kael dismounted without a hint of ceremony. He stood tall, broad-shouldered, his armor subtly glinting with the dust of travel. Dark eyes swept across the courtyard, devoid of warmth, filled only with keen observation.
The Empress greeted him with practiced elegance. Isla stood beside her, every inch the epitome of a perfect princess. Her smile was a blend of honey and steel.
"Your Highness," the Empress purred. "Welcome to Cindralia."
Kael gave a slight bow, just enough to be polite.
"I come bearing peace," he stated. "And curiosity."
"Then you'll enjoy our hospitality. And our Flamebearer."
His gaze flickered towards the stone steps.
Elara appeared, dressed in black and gold, flanked by silent guards who seemed more like moving shadows than men.
She wore no crown.
No jewels.
Only an undeniable presence.
Kael's eyes narrowed. Then, almost imperceptibly, a faint smile touched his lips.
That night, the court hosted a grand banquet in his honor.
Elara did not sit at the royal table.
She chose a seat by the roaring fire.
From across the expansive room, Kael watched her.
He ignored Isla's persistent attempts at flirtation. He answered the Empress's questions with careful, deliberate vagueness.
And when the musicians began to play, he rose.
He walked the length of the hall, past nobles and scholars, until he reached her.
"They say fire bows to you," he said.
Elara looked up slowly. "And yet you carry steel. Afraid I'll burn you?"
Kael laughed a low, surprising sound.
"Perhaps I simply wish to see if the stories hold true."
Elara stood. The room fell quiet.
"Then watch closely."
She extended her hand.
He took it.
And they danced.
Not a waltz.
Not a mere display.
A challenge.
The fire behind them surged. The floor resonated
with their movements. And the entire court seemed to forget to breathe.
Because in that moment, they weren't just prince and flame.
They were two powerful storms on the brink of collision.