Flamebound: Rise of the Cursed Prince

The letter arrived sealed with crimson wax—marked not by the royal crest, but by something far older.

A thorn coiled tightly around a crescent moon.

Frankfurt broke the seal silently, his eyes scanning the words slowly. With every line, his grip on the parchment tightened. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable.

> "They want to parley," he said. "A summit between House Eldemar and… the Pale Thorn."

Aaron frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the Thorn request a meeting after trying to kill us in Takoba?"

Frankfurt tossed the letter onto the table with a soft thud. "Because the outcome is already decided. It's not a summit. It's a trap."

---

Later that night, Aaron stood once again in the map room—not searching for history or symbols, but for opportunity.

His eyes lingered on the location named in the letter: Ravengarde Hall, an abandoned estate perched at the edge of Hollowmere.

"Too remote," he muttered. "Too exposed. No proper guards. No lines of communication. And they know it."

Ashen, sitting nearby and idly sketching charcoal lines, looked up. "So… don't go?"

Aaron's gaze sharpened. "No. We go. But not on their terms."

---

🧠 The Plan

Aaron crafted it carefully, sharing it only with Ashen.

Using his Ash Memory, Ashen replayed the courier's route—the man who had delivered the letter.

In the ash echo, Aaron saw the truth:

The courier's steps were rehearsed, too precise. His uniform was cleaner than a city rat's teeth. And worst of all—his shoes bore dust from nowhere near here.

An imposter.

Aaron smiled grimly.

He gave the courier exactly what he wanted: a message from Lord Pierce, agreeing to bring "the Child of Sky Flame" to Ravengarde Hall in three days.

---

🔥 The Twist

Three days later, under rain and wind's cover, a convoy of Pale Thorn agents arrived at Ravengarde Hall.

But there was no child.

Only an empty carriage and a cage filled with burning straw shaped like a person.

As the cage opened, the flames erupted into a glyph—branding every Pale Thorn agent with a magical mark.

Frankfurt's seal.

---

Back at the Pierce estate, Aaron stood on the western balcony, watching smoke curl in the far distance.

Frankfurt approached, arms crossed.

> "You baited them," he said, voice not unkind. "I didn't expect you'd move so fast."

Aaron didn't look at him. "They had to believe they'd won. That's when they slip."

Frankfurt paused. "You see now—the game isn't about strength."

Aaron nodded, eyes cold as ash. "It's about misdirection. Information. Fear."

> "Good," Frankfurt said. "Then you're ready for what comes next."

Aaron turned fully, voice low and certain.

> "Let them hunt smoke. I'll give them fire."