Bride of the Forgotten Throne

Three nights.

Three nights without rest. Dorian stood in his war chambers with his sleeves rolled and blood staining his cuffs—not from battle, but from gripping glass too tightly. The goblet lay shattered across the floor, crimson seeping through the cracks in the stone like spilled truth.

No one dared speak of it.

He no longer trusted the Council. Chancellor Myrell had grown too bold. The House of Flame was watching him like he was the threat now—not the rebellion on the borders. Not the Queen who walked into a cursed Hollow without command.

The Queen.

His Queen.

And yet, not.

He stared down at the ring she had left behind. It sat on the map table, quiet, powerful. The sigil of the Sixth Bride still burned faintly on the metal—a thing of ash and fire. He hadn't touched it.

Couldn't.

Because if he picked it up, he feared it would vanish like her.

Captain Varin entered without knocking—one of the few still loyal enough to forget formality.

"My king," he said, eyes tense. "There's movement near the northern ridges. One of our scouts swears he saw… a fire that walked like a woman."

Dorian straightened. "Where?"

"Too far to track. And too fast to follow."

A pause.

"It could be nothing. Or it could be her."

After Varin left, Dorian poured himself another glass of wine and didn't drink it.

He just held it.

Unmoving.

Until finally, he said aloud, to the quiet:

"If you're alive… then you've chosen not to come back."

He didn't cry.

But his voice cracked like old steel.

Later that night, in the royal chapel, he knelt beneath the great mosaic of the Brides. Only five were lit by candlelight. Kaelira's was dark. He stared up at her image—regal, haunting, eternal.

"You made me believe in something," he whispered. "You made me want a throne I never asked for. And now you've made me the fool who waits."

A wind passed through the chapel. The candles flickered. And in the cold silence, Dorian whispered:

"Please… let me be wrong."

Outside, stormclouds rolled over Veyrhold's towers. And across the distant ridges…

Something burned.