Chapter: The Ruins Beneath the Spire

The castle fell into an uneasy quiet by dawn. Though the wraiths had vanished as mysteriously as they had come, the tension in the air lingered like a coiled storm. Liam stood by Airam's window, arms folded, watching the trail of smoke still curling in the far-off western horizon. His mind hadn't rested since the attack—or since the feather.

Behind him, Airam packed quietly. The cryptic message haunted her every thought. Come alone. It pulsed in her chest like a second heartbeat.

"You're still planning to go," Liam said, not looking at her.

"Yes."

He turned to face her. "And you expect me to let you walk into a trap by yourself?"

"I expect you to trust me," she replied, her voice soft but steady. "This is bigger than both of us, Liam. That message wasn't just a threat—it was a summons. I have to find out what's beneath the Silver Spire."

Liam walked over, closing the distance between them. "Then I'm going too."

Airam touched his arm. "I know. But you won't be with me. Not this time."

He searched her face, reading something in her eyes that chilled him. Determination. Fear. Resignation.

"They showed me something," she said, withdrawing the scorched black feather from a pouch. "Your scream. You—burning. I think if you come with me, you'll die."

"Then let me risk it."

"No," she said, fierce now. "You've protected me long enough. Now let me protect you."

There was a long silence between them. Then Liam, jaw clenched, nodded once. "I'll give you till sunrise tomorrow. If you're not back by then, I'm coming for you—curse or not."

A ghost of a smile touched Airam's lips. "Deal."

---

Nightfall. The Silver Spire.

The spire rose like a broken tooth from the earth—tall, cracked, and dead. What had once been a watchtower for an ancient kingdom now stood abandoned, crumbling in the middle of the cursed valley. No birds flew near it. No animals dared approach.

Airam stood before it, her cloak billowing behind her, the feather clutched in her hand like a talisman. As she approached, the air grew warmer—uncomfortably so. With each step, memories surfaced. Her mother's voice. A hidden lullaby. A door sealed with fire.

You are more than your crown.

The words echoed, though she'd never heard them before.

At the base of the tower, hidden beneath curling ivy, she found the entrance to the ruins: a cracked stone disc half-buried in moss. The symbol etched into it shimmered faintly—the same emblem that had been on the crystal.

As her fingers brushed it, the ground trembled.

The disc slid open, revealing stairs spiraling into darkness.

She descended slowly, the air growing thick and metallic, like old blood and burnt copper. The passage opened into a vast underground chamber, lit by a pulsing red glow that came from a floating crystal shard at its center—just like the one from the tower.

But it wasn't alone.

Six more shards floated in a circle around it, forming a humming ring. In the shadows beyond stood a figure cloaked in molten darkness, its face obscured.

"You came," it said, voice like cracking firewood.

Airam steadied herself. "Who are you?"

"A forgotten king. A betrayed god. A voice your ancestors tried to silence."

Airam's eyes narrowed. "You sent the message."

"I sent the invitation," the figure replied. "The message... came from the fire itself."

The crystal pulsed brighter.

"The power that sleeps in your blood," it continued, "is only the beginning. The throne was never meant for mortals. It was forged for vessels—hosts for the flame eternal. And now, you must choose. Burn... or ascend."

"Ascend into what?" she demanded.

The figure gestured. One of the crystals spun violently. A memory spilled forth into the chamber.

She saw herself—older, regal, her eyes glowing red-gold as armies bowed before her. But behind her stood ruins. Cities in flames. Liam on his knees, a blade through his side.

Airam stumbled back.

"No," she whispered. "I would never—"

"You won't be the same," the figure said. "The fire takes... and gives."

Her breathing quickened.

"Why show me this?" she asked.

"Because he is already coming."

The crystal trembled.

"Who?"

The figure stepped forward. "The true heir to the flame. The one who was cast into darkness. He has awoken—and he will consume everything to reclaim the fire that should have been his."

Then the ground trembled.

The crystals flared with light. The chamber walls cracked as a new presence began to rise from the depths—massive, ancient, and angry.

Airam turned toward the stairs—but they had vanished. The tunnel had collapsed.

She was trapped.

And something—someone—was rising from beneath the floor. A shape made of shadow and flame. Eyes like smoldering coals opened and fixed on her.

The voice echoed through the chamber like thunder—

"You wear my flame."

And then—

Everything exploded into light.