Chapter Twenty: Blood and Flame.

The cave burned with the faint blue hue of arcane fire, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. Jayden stood at the edge of the flame, her silver eyes hollow, her breath steady. The poison had long left her body, and her wounds had healed. Physically, she was strong. Stronger than ever. But inside, a void echoed louder than any roar of battle. Her heart, once soft and erratic in Azrael's presence, now lay guarded, wrapped in the frost of betrayal.

Mammoth stood behind her, arms crossed, his gaze heavy with satisfaction. "You've grown, little mouse," he said with a low hum. "Your power responds more easily now. You command Sage. You suppress her will. You don't even flinch when you summon the dead."

Jayden didn't answer immediately. She reached a hand toward the flame, whispering a single word. From the ashes, a skeletal wolf rose, obedient and silent.

"I do what I must," she said coldly. "Emotions make people weak."

"Hmm," Mammoth murmured, circling her slowly. "That's what I like to hear. No smiles. No softness. And no thoughts of him."

Jayden's jaw tightened.

"I saw the way you looked at Azrael," Mammoth continued with a sneer. "Even now, I see how the mention of him brings fire to your eyes."

"He used me," she said, voice low but firm. "He wanted me for my powers. He kept the truth from me because he feared what I might become."

"And look at what you're becoming now." Mammoth grinned. "Not just the girl who commands ghosts. Not just Sage's vessel. But the last heir to a stolen throne. You were born to command, Jayden. The crown is your birthright—and I'll help you take it."

She turned to him, eyes shimmering with defiance. "And then what? I become like them? A ruler who murders her own people to stay in power?"

"No," Mammoth said, stepping closer. "You'll rule them. Because they'll be too afraid not to obey you."

The King's voice grew low and cold. "It will remain in my bloodline. Not hers."

He stepped back, his expression resolute. "We move at dawn. Before she remembers what she truly is."

Far from the castle, across jagged cliffs and narrow winding paths, a royal black carriage traveled in silence beneath the growing darkness of dusk. Pulled by six black horses, its wheels whispered against the dusty road. Inside, the King sat upright in his seat, his fingers tapping the woodwork restlessly. Four elite royal guards flanked the carriage—two at the front, two behind—each armed and armored in obsidian steel bearing the crest of Lumeria's false monarchy.

Behind the carriage, secured in a locked compartment, was the sealed crown, wrapped in layers of silk, its ancient magic bound by protective runes.

After several hours, they reached their destination: the Temple of Silence. It stood like a monolith of forgotten times, tall and sunless, carved into the side of a mountain. Moss clung to the stone walls, and silver runes pulsed gently along the entrance columns.

The guards dismounted first, weapons drawn, scanning the surroundings. Their boots echoed as they stepped through the temple doors, which creaked open to reveal a long hall lit only by flickering blue lamps. Five enormous stone statues lined the inner sanctum, each depicting a different god with eyes of crystal and mouths closed in silence—until one moved.

The ground trembled.

A deep voice, ancient and thundering, erupted from the central statue.

"Who goes there?"

The King's heart pounded, but he lowered his head and dropped to one knee. The guards followed immediately, their heads bowed in reverence.

"Great gods of the old world," the King spoke, his voice reverent but firm, "I come bearing a request only your power can fulfill."

The gods were still, but the atmosphere grew heavier.

With a wave of his hand, one of the guards stepped forward, holding a velvet-wrapped object carefully. He knelt and placed it at the foot of the central statue. Slowly, he unwrapped it—revealing the crown, gleaming despite its ancient age. Its diamonds shimmered under the cold firelight, though the magical seal around it still flickered like glass behind smoke.

For a long moment, there was silence.

Then another god, with a voice like splitting stone, spoke.

"What is the crown of Lumeria doing here?"

"It should not exist. We cursed it. It was stolen from its rightful line. Only the last heir—she who bears the soul of the first queen—can ever unseal it."

The King did not falter. "And that is precisely why I am here."

He stood tall, letting his cloak fall to the floor, revealing armor lined in gold. His eyes gleamed with cold ambition.

"I want the last heir destroyed. She is awakening. And worse… she is protected by something—someone—that should not be walking among the living."

He clenched his fists. "The creature. The one impersonating Death itself. I want him banished from this world. I want her dead. I will not let a dead queen rise again to claim the throne. I will rewrite the bloodline. My blood will rule this kingdom for generations to come."

The gods did not move for a time. Then, as if conferring in ancient silence, their crystal eyes pulsed.

Finally, the first god answered.

"There is a way. But the ritual is not without price."

The King leaned forward. "Tell me."

"During the next red moon eclipse—four nights from now—a ritual must be performed in the Garden of Silence. You saw it as you entered."

The King recalled the overgrown courtyard outside the temple, with its ancient stone altar and cracked blood channels spiraling from the center.

"At the time of eclipse, twenty souls must be offered."

"Human blood must pour freely into the channels until the crown sits at the eye of the flow. When the altar drinks enough, and the moon bleeds above, we will hear your command."

The King's breath hitched—but then he smiled, slow and wicked.

"I'll give you fifty if you want," he said darkly. "Whatever it takes."

The gods remained silent for a moment. Then their glowing eyes dimmed again, their faces still as stone.

The King turned to his guards, his voice filled with authority. "Return to the castle. Spread word to the army. I want the dungeons cleared. All prisoners and slaves… prepare them for the offering. Four nights from now, Lumeria enters a new era."

He turned back once more to the crown, eyes glinting with triumph.

"She will never wear this. And Death himself will kneel before me… or be erased."

And with that, the King and his guards exited the temple, their cloaks sweeping behind them like the winds of war.

Back in the shrine, Jayden knelt by the blue fire, gripping her knees, her eyes fluttering shut. Sage's voice echoed in her mind, subdued now—quiet but not gone.

"You feel strong, but not whole," Sage whispered.

Jayden didn't respond.

"Power without purpose will rot you."

Jayden clenched her fists. "Then I'll give it purpose," she murmured aloud. "I'll take back what they stole. I'll burn the throne before I let them take it again."

From the darkness, Mammoth smiled.

"Good girl."