the timid bride

# Chapter 89 – The Edge of the Storm

The wind howled across the high cliffs of Emberpoint.

Zara stood with Amara and Damon atop the watchtower, overlooking the sea where storm clouds gathered like an omen. Below, supply ships docked and departed in rhythm, guarded more tightly than ever before. The kingdom was rebuilding—but the Ashborn's warning still echoed.

**The Ashborn rise again.**

No name had chilled the court like that in decades.

"Any progress on tracking them?" Zara asked, eyes locked on the horizon.

Damon shook his head. "Only rumors. Symbols painted in blood on village walls. Vanished patrols. They're ghosts."

Amara added, "Or waiting for something. A sign. A leader."

Zara's fingers closed around the phoenix pendant around her neck. "Then I'll give them something else to fear."

---

Back at the palace, Kael stood in the royal archives, poring over forbidden records. Thorne joined him, carrying an ancient scroll sealed with three wax emblems—one of fire, one of chains, one of ash.

"You found it," Kael said.

Thorne unrolled the parchment slowly.

"It's a prophecy," he said. "Written before even Corshal. It speaks of 'a crown forged in dual flame'—and a child who would carry both destruction and rebirth."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Zara."

Thorne nodded. "But there's more. The Ashborn knew of this prophecy. They believed she would either lead them… or destroy them."

Kael closed the scroll. "Then they'll come for her."

---

That evening, Zara summoned her commanders to the moonlit hall of flames. The air was thick with heat from the ever-burning pyres.

"The Ashborn don't seek control," she said. "They seek collapse. They think the world must burn so it can be pure again."

She looked each of them in the eye.

"I won't let them rewrite our future with fire."

Amara stepped forward. "What do we do?"

Zara placed a map across the table. Red ink circled five locations: abandoned temples, ancient ruins, old Trin strongholds.

"We raid these sites. Burn their roots before they grow. If they want war, we make the first strike."

Kael added, "We also need spies. Deep spies. Ones who can sit at their tables, drink their wine, and return with names."

Zara turned to him. "Do you know anyone that mad?"

He smiled darkly. "I do."

---

The next week unfolded in fire and silence.

Amara led attacks on forgotten temples. Soldiers found symbols of ash etched into walls, bones burned into floors, and scrolls promising that Zara's death would "wake the flame reborn."

Damon flushed out smuggling routes between Corshal's ruins and the coast. Caches of weapons were found—razor-sharp, poisoned, made for assassination.

Kael's contact—a woman named Letha—sent word from the Ashborn's inner circle. Her message was brief:

**They plan to strike during the eclipse.**

Zara stood over the balcony as the moon began its slow journey across the sun.

She whispered, "Then we end it in shadow."

---

During the eclipse, the sky darkened. Bells rang across cities. Villagers paused in silent awe.

But in the palace, tension bled through the walls.

Zara was dressed in full ceremonial armor. Her blade was sharpened. Her guards tripled.

And still, they came.

Through the tunnels. Through servant doors. Through shadows.

The Ashborn.

Cloaked in ash-colored robes. Eyes marked in soot. Whispers on their lips: "The crown must fall."

They attacked like smoke.

But Zara had prepared.

Flamewatch guards surged from hidden walls. Amara led the charge. Damon sealed the gates. Kael hunted the leaders one by one.

Zara fought in the throne room herself.

The Ashborn priest stood before her, wielding a double-bladed staff, his eyes glowing unnaturally.

"You were meant to rise with us!" he cried.

Zara blocked a swing. "Then you misunderstood me."

They clashed.

Fire met fire. Magic burst from shattered stone. As the final rays of the eclipse passed, Zara plunged her sword through the priest's chest.

He gasped. "You are the flame… but you've chosen the wrong side."

Zara whispered, "I chose my people."

And then he fell.

---

By morning, the palace was silent once more.

Dozens of Ashborn assassins lay dead. The survivors were imprisoned. Letha escaped with a list of names. The inner circle had been broken.

Zara stood in the throne room. The eclipse was over.

But her rule was only beginning.

"Let history write this day," she said to her court. "The day the crown did not fall. The day the fire stood tall."

They bowed.

And outside, the kingdom began to chant one name.

Zara. The Flame Queen.