The Unexpected Waiting

The bells stopped ringing by the time we reached the lower gate road.

I expected guards. Maybe a royal escort. Possibly Lira, standing like a dagger in silk, arms folded, eyes unreadable. Or worse — nothing at all. A silent reception to remind me how far I'd strayed.

But instead, someone else stood at the gates.

A woman.

Alone.

Dressed in muted grey robes, with a hood that shadowed most of her face — save for her mouth, which was set in a line of grim resolve.

I slowed instinctively, and Caden matched my pace at once.

She wasn't a courtier.

She wasn't from the palace.

But something about her presence pulled at my memory — like a song I'd only heard in a dream.

The guards flanking the gates stood unusually still. Not bowing. Not reaching for weapons. Just watching. Their eyes flicked between the woman and me with quiet discomfort.

The woman lowered her hood.

And my breath left me.

She looked like me.

Not entirely — older, sharper around the eyes, and marked by time in a way I wasn't. But the resemblance was undeniable. She had the same shade of skin, the same high cheekbones, the same fire smoldering behind her gaze.

Caden froze beside me. "Felicia…"

"I see it," I said softly.

The woman stepped forward.

"Daughter of the flame," she said. Her voice was smooth, layered with something strange — as if spoken from two mouths at once. "You were not supposed to return yet."

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze flicked briefly to Caden, then returned to me.

"The blood called you," she said. "And you followed. That much I expected. But I did not expect you to wake him."

I tensed. "You know about the Firstborn."

"I know many things, Felicia Grey."

She said my name like a key turning in a lock.

I felt something stir within me — a flicker of the Firstborn's presence, like an instinct bracing against what stood before me.

Caden stepped forward slightly, instinctively guarding.

"Answer her," he said quietly. "Who are you?"

The woman sighed, as if disappointed. "Names are fragile things. But once, before the seals, they called me Narella."

The name hit something in my chest.

From the edge of memory, from the scrolls Lira once forced me to study. From the old stories told in half-whispers in the deep libraries.

"Narella…" I breathed. "You were the Seer. The first one who saw the old blood rising. You disappeared before the war began."

"I didn't disappear," she said, "I left. Because I saw what would come. I saw you."

I stepped closer now, though the air between us pulsed with something I couldn't name.

"You saw me?"

"I saw what you would carry. And what you might choose. I saw you standing in flame — and I saw the world break or bloom depending on what you did next."

Caden's hand brushed my wrist, the barest contact.

A warning. A question.

I gave a tiny nod. I felt the same.

She wasn't just here to welcome us.

She was here to test us.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

Narella tilted her head. "To know which future you intend to build. You have stirred something ancient — not only in blood, but in memory. The Firstborn is not the only sleeping thing beneath this kingdom."

"I didn't do this to awaken monsters," I said. "I did it to stop hiding."

"Then you are a fool," she said flatly.

The words cut deep — but not because they were cruel.

Because they were true.

She stepped forward again. No guards stopped her. No soldier moved.

"You walk into a palace that will not welcome you," she said. "A court that fears your name and whispers of your past. You are flame in a house of dry paper."

"I know that."

"And yet you carry the match."

I swallowed. "I didn't light it to burn anyone."

"But you will," she said, gently this time. "If not by choice, then by necessity."

Caden's voice came then, low and calm but firm. "Is that why you're here? To warn her? Or to threaten her?"

Narella met his gaze. "I came to offer her a choice."

That pulled my attention sharply. "What kind of choice?"

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, I saw grief there. Deep, old grief.

"To walk away. Now. Before the world demands something from you that your heart cannot pay."

My heart thudded.

I looked down at my hands — they still bore faint traces of the stone's light. Of the power I'd chosen.

Walk away?

"I can't," I said finally.

Narella tilted her head. "Because of the bond?"

"No." I looked up. "Because of the promise. The one she made. The one I finished. I won't leave it half-done."

The Seer nodded, slowly.

"Then when they turn against you," she said, "you'll have to decide whether you will remain flame… or become wildfire."

She stepped aside, letting the path to the gates open again.

The guards didn't move.

But one of them crossed himself — not as a soldier, but as a man frightened by something holy.

I turned to Caden.

He nodded once. Quiet approval.

"I'm ready," I said.

"I know," he whispered.

We walked through the gates side by side.

No horns. No announcement. No royal greeting.

Just silence.

And a Seer's gaze on our backs.

The palace was quiet when we entered.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The calculating kind. The kind you feel in your spine, not your ears.

The halls looked the same — polished marble, silver-veined columns, long banners of House Nosgoth swaying gently in the breeze from unseen windows. But something beneath the surface had changed. The guards didn't meet my eyes. The attendants bowed stiffly. Servants whispered after I passed, as if I couldn't hear them.

I wasn't a ghost in this place anymore.

I was a warning.

Caden walked beside me, back straight, gaze fixed. Calm. Collected. But his hand never strayed far from the hilt of the blade strapped across his back. Not because he expected a fight.

Because he knew we were already in one.

We were escorted — not by a royal guard, but by four unknown men in matching grey cloaks. Their insignia bore no crest. Their boots made no sound. Their expressions were unreadable.

"Not palace guards," I murmured.

Caden nodded. "Private detail. Probably assigned by the Regent."

Of course. The Queen-Regent. The woman who had ruled in silence since the king's death. The one who never showed her hand but always held the knife.

We passed beneath a carved arch into the northern wing — the one reserved for courtly gatherings, diplomacy, and, apparently, veiled interrogations.

Instead of the grand chamber, they led us into a narrow corridor. One I remembered all too well.

"The Star Wing," I said. "They only bring petitioners here."

"Or prisoners," Caden added.

I stopped walking.

One of the grey-cloaked men turned slightly. "You are not a prisoner, Lady Grey."

"Then why bring me here?" I asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he opened the final door — and gestured us inside.

The chamber was dim, lit only by flickering wall sconces. But it wasn't empty.

A figure sat in the corner, behind a table of redwood glass. A man. Middle-aged, clean-shaven, dressed in black and bronze robes with an emerald ring glinting on one finger.

He stood as I entered and bowed. "Lady Felicia. Heir of the forgotten flame. Welcome home."

I didn't return the greeting.

"And you are?"

"Meridian Talos," he said smoothly. "Court historian. And—" he smiled, almost kindly "—former advisor to your mother."

That stopped me cold.

Caden stiffened beside me.

"My mother died when I was a child."

"Yes," Talos said softly. "But not before she entrusted me with something. Something I've kept hidden, waiting for this moment. For you."

I didn't sit. "What is it?"

He lifted a small black case from beneath the table and set it down with care.

"It's not a weapon," he said, noting Caden's hand on his blade. "It's a truth. One you've been kept from."

I looked at the case. Then at him.

"What kind of truth?"

Talos's eyes glinted.

"One that suggests the Firstborn was never sealed alone."

The world tilted.

"What?"

"You awakened one part of the old blood," he said. "But there were two. Split before the sealing. The other half was not fire. It was shadow. Silence."

"And you're saying it's still out there?" I whispered.

"No." He opened the case, revealing a thick leather-bound book. "I'm saying it's here. In the palace."

Before I could respond, the sconces flickered violently.

The room pulsed once — deep, low.

And the floor beneath me went cold.

Caden stepped forward instantly. "What was that?"

Talos didn't flinch.

Instead, he whispered, "They've felt the Firstborn wake. And now… they're stirring too."

I looked down at the marble floor. Tiny hairline cracks ran through it now — barely visible. But warm to the touch.

Something beneath the polished stone was listening.

Waiting.