The silver Wolf

The man with silver hair descended the gallery steps like he owned the court—his movements smooth, deliberate, predatory. Though he wore no crown, no one dared block his path. Even the Queen Regent's expression flickered—something cold and calculating briefly shadowed her perfect features.

"Who is he?" Serenya asked quietly.

Prince Kael, standing beside her now, gave a wry smile. "That… is Lord Kaelith Virein. No relation, despite the name. He's not royal by blood, but he holds power here that rivals any crown."

"And why was he in my dreams?"

Kael arched a brow. "You dream of him? Interesting. Or dangerous."

Kaelith stopped before her, bowing just low enough to be polite—but not quite deferential. "Serenya Solmar. The lost flame. The dead phoenix reborn." His voice was low, smooth like velvet over steel. "I have waited a long time to meet you."

"And you are?" she asked, forcing calm into her tone.

He smiled, a flash of something more primal beneath the civility. "Kaelith. Some call me the Silver Wolf. Others prefer less flattering names. I serve the court. And watch what moves in the dark."

"I don't trust wolves," she said.

"Good," he replied. "That means you might live through your first month."

The court chuckled again, though uneasily. Kaelith circled her slowly—much like Thariel had—but his gaze felt heavier, like he was peeling back layers she hadn't even known were there.

"You wear your power like a second skin," he murmured. "Raw. Untamed. I wonder… will you break under it, or bend the world to your will?"

Before Serenya could answer, the Queen Regent's voice cut through the room.

"Enough games, Kaelith. You came here for a reason. Speak it."

He turned, graceful as shadow. "I came to offer a test."

Corvin, who had stood silently until now, stepped forward. "This wasn't discussed."

Kaelith smirked. "Many things worth doing aren't."

The Queen gestured lazily. "Very well. But if she dies, the blame is yours."

"Noted." He turned back to Serenya. "The Flameborn should know what lives beneath her skin. There's a chamber beneath this palace—a trial vault, built by your ancestors. It awakens only for Solmar blood. I propose… we send her in."

Serenya's pulse jumped. "What's inside it?"

"Memories," Kaelith said. "Monsters. Your power. Maybe all three."

Corvin stepped forward, clearly displeased. "She's barely begun training."

"That's why it matters," Kaelith countered. "Fire is forged, not taught."

A murmur swept the court.

Serenya met Kaelith's eyes. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll confirm what half this room already believes—that you're a flicker, not a flame."

Prince Kael leaned in, murmuring low so only she could hear: "You don't have to prove anything to them. But if you do… make sure you burn the right ones."

Serenya took a breath.

This court was dangerous. These people even more so. But something inside her stirred at the mention of the vault—something deep, ancient, and hungry.

"I'll go," she said, voice steady. "Take me to the vault."

A ripple of surprise echoed through the chamber. Even Kaelith tilted his head slightly, as though impressed.

"Then let the trial begin," he said.