The walls trembled as Seris raced down the obsidian stairwell, fire surging from her feet with each step. Behind her, Kaelen flew low over the twisting corridor, wings of stormlight skimming the ceiling. Guards scrambled out of the way as the palace quaked underfoot.
"The vault wards are gone," Kaelen said grimly. "Whoever did this knew exactly how to break them."
Seris didn't respond—she couldn't. Her fury blazed too high, too hot. All she could hear was the echo of the vision: herself wearing the Crown—a queen of fire and ruin. And now, someone else wanted that power.
They reached the vault just as the final ward cracked with a sound like shattering bone. Flames licked up the columns. Sigils blinked into nothingness. The great blackstone doors stood open.
Inside, the thief stood before the Crown of Cinders—not yet touching it, but so close Seris could feel the relic pulling, pulsing, calling.
He turned.
The man's face was hidden beneath a molten hood, but his voice was like burning coal.
> "You're too late, Flameborn."
Kaelen moved instantly—lightning snapping from his fingertips—but the thief swept his staff across the floor. A wave of molten force exploded outward, throwing Kaelen back against the vault wall.
Seris stepped into the chamber alone.
> "Step away from the crown."
The thief chuckled, low and joyless. "Or what? You'll burn me?"
His voice shifted, rippled, became two voices layered together.
One male.
The other…
Female.
Seris narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
The thief slowly removed the hood.
And her blood froze.
> It was her face.
But not as she was now. This version was older. Hardened. Her eyes burned with unholy fire—deeper, wilder than Seris's ever had. The woman gave a mocking smile.
> "I'm what happens when you choose wrong."
---
Outside the chamber, Kaelen staggered to his feet, blood running from a cut on his brow. He reached for his sigil blade, stormlight coalescing along its edge.
Inside, Seris stared down her future self.
"You're a lie," she said.
"I'm a warning," the mirror-Seris whispered. "And I've come to take what's mine."
In a single motion, the thief raised her staff and summoned a torrent of fire so pure it turned the obsidian floor white-hot.
Seris countered with a wall of flame—red and gold, not just destructive, but protective. The vault exploded into a storm of colliding powers, light and fire and fury screaming through the air.
Kaelen dove between them, wings snapping wide, shielding Seris as the blast threw all three of them apart.
When the smoke cleared, the thief was gone.
And so was the Crown of cinders.