Flamebound: Rise of the Cursed Prince

The Council Hall was silent now.

Its golden banners lay torn, its pillars scorched black. The fire had passed—but it had left something behind:

A kingdom without a voice.

Aaron stood at the center of the ruin, surrounded by ash and broken masks. His hand still smoked from memory—residue of a flame that had not come from anger, but necessity.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled—a broken sound, like the city remembering its own wounds.

From behind a collapsed column came a cough. A survivor.

Councilor Eldryn, the eldest of the Twelve. His robes were burned at the sleeves, but his eyes were sharp—older than war, older than thrones.

Aaron turned, ready.

> "Relax, boy," Eldryn wheezed. "I'm not here to stop you. I'm here to ask you one question."

Aaron didn't lower his hand. "Then ask."

---

🗣️ A Voice from the Ash

The old man eased himself down onto a half-shattered throne.

> "You burn beautifully. But do you know what you're burning?"

Aaron didn't answer.

> "We built this council from the bones of an empire. Every lie we told… was to keep worse truths buried."

> "You think flame is a tool. It's not. It's a verdict. It ends what can't be fixed."

Aaron took a step forward. "And you think this kingdom can be fixed?"

Eldryn's gaze flicked to the blue fire flickering in Aaron's palm.

> "No. But I don't think you want to rule it either."

> "So what then, Skyborn? You'll burn it all… and walk away?"

---

🔥 A Choice Unspoken

The flame in Aaron's hand dimmed, the light turning soft.

> "I was born in exile," he said. "I don't want a throne. I want the lies buried under it."

Eldryn laughed bitterly, a sound more tired than cruel.

> "Then let me leave you with this:

> If you burn everything broken… what will you stand on to rebuild?"

Aaron opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

The flame around his fingers flickered—but it offered no answer.

And in the quiet, he realized: even fire has its silences.

---

🕯️ Meanwhile – In the Shadows of Gezana

Far from the ruined hall, on a rooftop overlooking the burning streets, Lucien Virell stood in stillness.

Below, the people rose. Not for him. Not for Aaron. But for themselves.

> "He's asking the wrong questions," Lucien muttered.

Beside him, a masked woman in crimson stepped forward.

> "That's dangerous," she said.

Lucien's mouth curled into a quiet smile.

> "No. That means he's almost ready."

---

🔚 Final Scene

Back in the broken Council Hall, Aaron stood alone beneath a sky where the roof had once been.

Ash clung to his boots. His breath steamed in the cold air.

He looked at his hands—burned, trembling, faintly glowing.

And whispered to no one:

> "I don't want to be fire. I want to be the one who remembers… what fire forgets."