The wind that blew across Vireya that night was not natural.
It carried ash, though no fires burned nearby. It whispered names not yet spoken aloud. And it tugged at Selene's cloak like a child afraid of being left behind.
The journey had begun.
They were leaving Vireya in secret—under moonlight and false stars.
---
Selene stood in the royal nursery one last time, her fingers brushing over the hand-carved crib that had once held both her children. The room smelled of jasmine and old wood, and the faint shimmer of protection spells lingered on the walls.
She remembered Elira's first laugh. Theron's first burst of fire. The quiet nights when she and Kael had stood in the doorway just watching them breathe.
Now those breaths stirred the fate of the world.
---
Kael waited by the palace gates with Rowan and Naeria. Their mounts—moonborn wolves with coats of silver and black—pawed restlessly against the stones.
"I set a glamour over the garden wall," Naeria said, checking her satchel of spirit runes. "No one will know we're gone unless they look too closely."
Rowan scanned the skies. "The Ashborn will come soon. This journey needs to happen now, or not at all."
Selene arrived with the twins in her arms. Elira nestled against her shoulder, already half-asleep. Theron blinked up at the sky, his eyes glowing faintly gold.
"I'm ready," she said.
Kael stepped forward and kissed her brow. "Then we ride."
---
The path to Elunari lay through the Ashlands—a cursed stretch of earth where even shadows didn't behave properly. Firestones jutted from cracked soil like bones. Winds howled without source. Time twisted.
It had once been green, centuries ago.
Before the First Flame broke loose.
Now, only flame-touched beasts roamed the sands, and old ruins whispered warnings to those who dared walk them.
---
Theron rode with Kael, silent but alert. His staff glowed faintly in his grip. Elira rode with Selene, weaving soft humming magic to keep their path clear. Each night, they camped in a different shadow, cloaked in spells and silence.
It didn't matter.
Something still watched them.
---
On the fourth night, they were attacked.
It wasn't a beast.
It was a man—if he could still be called that.
He appeared out of the ashstorm: cloaked in molten armor, bearing the mark of Azthera scorched across his brow. His eyes burned like embers, and his voice was like gravel on fire.
> "I come for the boy."
Kael stepped forward without hesitation. "You'll leave with nothing but broken teeth."
The man laughed—a terrible, dry sound. "The Flame remembers, Wolf-King. And the boy's blood burns hotter than you know."
Before Kael could answer, Theron stepped forward.
And he wasn't afraid.
---
The boy raised his hand, and fire surged from his palm in a wave of gold. The stranger tried to deflect it—but the flame curved, sentient and angry. It wrapped around his limbs like chains, slammed him to the earth.
The ash screamed.
Kael grabbed his son, pulling him back. "Theron—"
"He wanted to take Elira," Theron said, teeth clenched. "I won't let him."
The man coughed, eyes wide now. "The Gate… opens… soon…"
Then he turned to ash in the wind.
---
They rode harder after that.
The closer they got to Elunari, the stranger the world became.
Dreams blurred with waking.
Theron began to glow at night—not just with fire, but something deeper, more ancient. A sigil appeared over his heart, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
Elira began hearing voices from the trees. Not threatening. Curious.
"You don't belong in this time," one tree whispered to her. "You were born when the moon cried. You are the answer to a question the stars haven't asked yet."
Elira didn't understand it.
But she remembered.
---
They reached the Ruins of Elunari on the twelfth day.
It was not what they expected.
No towering gate. No wall of flame. No temple of bone.
Just an arch made of two trees—black and silver—twisted together.
And in the center?
A mirror.
It shimmered like obsidian and starlight combined. The surface moved, like oil and fire and sky all at once. Beneath it, the earth glowed softly—pulsing like a living thing.
Selene stepped forward, her voice soft. "Is it the Gate?"
Naeria nodded. "It's asleep. But not for long."
---
That night, while the camp rested, Selene sat beside the mirror.
She touched the surface, expecting cold.
It was warm.
And it pulled.
---
She saw a vision.
A battlefield.
Elira stood at the center, radiating moonlight, commanding forces of light and wind.
Theron stood on the opposite side, fire raging behind him, eyes unreadable.
In between them—herself, on her knees, bleeding.
The sky burned red.
And in her last breath, she whispered: "Don't become the prophecy."
---
She gasped awake.
And found Elira beside her.
"Mama," the girl whispered, "he's dreaming too loud."
Selene turned.
Theron stood before the mirror, eyes closed, glowing gold. His feet hovered inches above the ground. His hands were raised—like he was reaching for something inside.
The sigil on his chest burned.
Kael rushed forward. "Theron!"
But it was Rowan who stopped him. "No. Let him finish."
Selene's heart hammered.
Then—
Theron's eyes opened.
And the mirror cracked.
---
Not shattered.
Just a single fracture.
A heartbeat line of gold, splitting the center.
And from it, a whisper rose:
> "He has chosen. The Flame knows his name."
---
Theron collapsed.
Selene caught him.
His skin was hot—burning—but his face peaceful.
Kael knelt beside her.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
Naeria, pale, looked at the mirror.
"It means Elunari will open. Soon."
---
Elira came and took her brother's hand.
He stirred, eyes fluttering open.
"I saw her," he whispered.
Selene leaned in. "Who?"
Theron stared at the cracked mirror.
"The Fire Queen. And she knew my name."
---
Far away, in the Ashborn camp beneath the blackened cliffs, the flames rose higher.
A banner unfurled—marked with two sigils: one of fire, one of moonlight.
The army gathered.
And the chant began:
> "Elunari. Elunari. The Gate will burn. The blood will rise."
---