By dawn, the capital was divided.
Some called for Kael to be crowned co-heir. Others demanded Elara be declared Flame Empress. A few whispered of war not between kingdoms, but within palace walls.
In the Hall of Crowns, the King and Empress sat apart. The court filled the chamber with rustling silks and thinly veiled agendas.
"The fire chose both," a minister declared. "But the throne cannot be shared."
"Then let them serve in balance," another countered. "As torch and flame. As guard and guide."
"That's poetry," the Empress snapped. "Not governance."
Elara stood before them, flanked by M and two royal guards. Her expression unreadable.
Kael leaned lazily against a column, one brow raised, watching the court like a man who already knew the ending.
King Theron finally spoke. "What does the fire demand?"
No one answered.
Until Elara stepped forward.
"It demands change."
The room went still.
"The stone didn't choose royalty. It didn't choose blood. It chose will."
The Empress rose slowly. "And yet, you carry royal blood, do you not?"
Elara met her gaze. "Blood doesn't make a ruler. Fire does."
That night, whispers filled the palace.
Some said Elara would be named Crown Regent.
Others claimed Kael would be sent back to Eldoria, his challenge denied.
In truth, neither happened.
Because something else took center stage.
"The Heir Trials."
A series of ancient tests, lost to time, now unearthed by the High Priest and backed by the Empress.
"Let the fire speak," she had said.
"Let them earn their claim."
The King said nothing.
But he allowed it.
In her chamber, Elara traced the map of the palace etched into the old stone wall a secret left by the servant who had raised her.
M stood nearby, arms crossed. "You don't have to play their game."
"It's not their game anymore," Elara replied. "It's mine."
Elsewhere, Kael stood on the outer walls, wind in his hair, blade in hand.
A voice behind him.
"You know she'll win."
Isla stepped from the shadows, her eyes glinting with spite and something sharper than fear.
Kael didn't turn. "That's why I'm still here."
Isla came closer from behind. "If you lose, you return to Eldoria empty-handed."
"Then I won't lose."
"And if she falls?"
He finally turned around, withdrawn ,he eyes were sharp as cut steel. "Then this kingdom burns."
Isla tilted her chin, masking her nerves with a sneer. "You think she's better than me?"
Kael laughed short, amused, merciless.
"Better? Isla, she is the fire. You're just a shadow trying to catch its light."
She recoiled slightly, lips parting in disbelief.
He stepped closer, voice low and final.
"You had years to earn the kingdom's love. Elara earned it by breathing. That should terrify you."
The wind carried their silence across the walls.
And far below, in the city, bonfires were lit.
Not in rebellion.
In reverence.
For the girl who burned.