Flamebound: Rise of the Cursed Prince

The Council Chamber of House Eldemar was nothing like Aaron had imagined.

It was not golden or grandiose.

Instead, it was cold—a dome of pale stone where shadows pooled in corners like spilled ink.

Twelve chairs circled the center, each occupied by a cloaked figure. Their faces hidden behind masks of glass and silver, cold and unreadable.

Each mask caught the flicker of the fire hovering above a stone pedestal at the chamber's heart—a blue flame, ethereal and alive.

Frankfurt stood silently beside Aaron, saying nothing.

A voice—genderless, toneless—broke the silence.

> "You may speak."

Aaron stepped forward. The floor echoed beneath his boots like a funeral bell.

> "You invited me," he said evenly. "So here I am. Say what you need to."

A pause stretched.

Then a voice sharp as broken glass sliced the air.

> "You carry the Skyborn flame."

> "You've awakened something we buried a generation ago."

> "That makes you a threat."

---

🧠 A Game of Words

Aaron did not flinch.

> "Maybe I am. But you summoned me. Not the other way around."

One of the masked figures leaned forward, the glass reflecting the fire.

> "We wanted to see if you're still… moldable."

Another voice, cold and precise.

> "Or if the fire has claimed your mind."

> "Have you seen the Prophet of Ash?"

Aaron's hands clenched at the name.

> "Yes," he said. "He offered me lies. I answered with flame."

Silence, then whispers behind masks like the rustle of dead leaves.

Finally, the eldest spoke—a mask cracked down the center like shattered porcelain.

> "Your existence is no longer an accident. It is a consequence."

> "Will you kneel to the throne, Aaron Hotveil?"

---

🔥 A Choice Not Made

Aaron's gaze swept the circle.

No faces.

Only fear cloaked as power.

> "I don't kneel to fire," he said.

> "I am fire."

> "You buried my name once. It won't happen again."

A gust of blue flame spiraled from his palm—not a threat, but a promise.

The masks remained still.

But the flame at the chamber's center pulsed brighter, as if recognizing a kin long lost.

---

🕯️ After the Trial

In the quiet corridors afterward, Frankfurt exhaled slowly.

> "That could've gone worse."

Aaron's voice was distant, cold.

> "It will."

Frankfurt's brow furrowed.

> "Why?"

Aaron looked at his reflection in the glass pane.

> "Because they're not done testing me."

> "And next time... they won't use words."