Pampered By All

The cheers from the Circle of Echoes had faded, but the fire remained inside the palace, inside the people, and most of all, inside the king.

King Theron sat in his private solar, the crown untouched on the table before him. He had not worn it since the trial. His gaze remained fixed on the dying embers in the hearth, but his thoughts burned brighter than ever.

Seventeen years.

That was how long it had been since he'd watched Seraphina walk into his court wild and regal, draped in prophecy and defiance. A healer. A warrior. A woman of magic unbound. And his greatest betrayal.

He had loved her. Foolishly. Secretly.

Then came the night of fire. The Empress's warning. The massacre in the valley.

"No survivors," his generals said.

He'd believed it.

But now, the girl who stood against the flames, Elara, bore Seraphina's silence, her fire, and her eyes.

Could it be…?

A quiet knock stirred the still air of the royal study.

Lady Marellia stepped in, her robes whispering against the marble. "You've been silent since the trial, Your Majesty."

King Theron didn't look up from the empty goblet in his hand. "And everyone else has been loud enough to make up for it."

She approached slowly. "Isla is asking questions. The court is whispering more than listening. And the Empress..." she paused, measuring her words, "...has been watching you more closely than usual."

At that, the King lifted his eyes.

"You've known me a long time, Marellia," he said. "Longer than anyone still breathing."

She inclined her head. "Since you were a boy who disliked the crowns."

He gave a humorless chuckle. "And now, one trial has made me doubt everything beneath mine."

Lady Marellia's voice softened. "It's her, isn't it? The firebearer."

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Marellia drew closer. "Then ask yourself, my King… why now? Why her? Why did the fire not kneel for Isla?"

His knuckles whitened around the goblet.

"That's what I plan to find out," he said. "calmly."

Later that afternoon, Elara stood at the edge of the Grand Terrace, where nobles once gossiped about her behind cupped hands. They watched her with awe or caution, or both.

She had just returned from the trial's aftermath. Servants bowed lower. Guards straightened when she passed. Even children called her name like a tale in the making.

She hated it.

"You've earned a seat in the High Council," the King had said hours earlier, his tone almost kind. "It's your right, Flamebearer."

But Elara had only bowed. She hadn't answered.

Now she stood with her back to the court, hands gripping the stone rail.

"You're quiet," Kael said, approaching without warning.

Elara didn't look at him. "Everyone suddenly wants to hear me speak. That's enough reason to stay silent."

Kael smirked. "A wise answer."

She glanced sideways. "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be halfway to Eldoria by now?"

"Not until I know what you're going to evolve into."

"What I become isn't your concern."

"On the contrary," he said softly. "There is a chance it may decide what lies ahead of the North."

She blinked. "You sound like my enemies."

Kael tilted his head. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm the only one who understands what's coming."

Behind them, a quiet footstep approached. M.

"He's right about one thing," M said. "The world's watching. They love you now. But love turns. Quickly."

Elara crossed her arms. "And what do you suggest? That I hide?"

"No," M replied. "That you choose who you become before they do it for you."

In the royal garden, the Empress paced like a caged wolf. Isla trailed behind her, still nursing her wounded pride from the trial.

"The duchess of Marrowind has invited you," the Empress said sharply. "You'll leave at dawn."

Isla froze. "You're sending me away?"

"I'm positioning you," the Empress corrected. "The Duchess deals in rare arts, shadow magic. You'll learn from her."

"You want me to become like Elara?"

"No. I want you to become what Elara isn't."

Isla's gaze burned. "I'll make her regret ever stepping out of the servants' hall."

The Empress smiled coldly. "Good."

That evening, Kael stood in his quarters, activating the crystal relay placed on his desk.

A faint glow pulsed, and a blurred projection formed, the outline of a man, regal and stern.

"Father," Kael said, bowing slightly.

King Harran's voice crackled through. "You've seen her?"

Kael nodded. "She's not just a symbol. The flame knows her."

A pause.

"And the prophecy?"

"It's not coming. It's here."

The line went quiet.

Then King Harran said, "Then Eldoria must decide: will we resist her… or follow her?"

Kael didn't answer.

Because part of him already knew.