LORD_INNOCENTIA

In the fire-bound kingdom of Solvyris, Princess Seris Embervale has always walked a thin line between duty and defiance. As heir to the Ember Throne and the last of the royal Emberbloods—those with the rare ability to bond directly with elemental flame—Seris is expected to rule, to marry for power, and to suppress the dangerous hunger of fire that grows within her soul.

But when Kaelen Thorne, a mysterious skyborn emissary from the realm of winds, infiltrates the palace and pulls Seris into a long-buried prophecy, everything changes. A forgotten Mirror Gate awakens. Dreams begin to bleed into reality. And beneath the palace, the Crown of Cinders—a relic said to grant dominion over fire itself—begins to stir after three centuries of silence.

As Seris and Kaelen delve into ancient secrets and elemental alliances long fractured, they uncover a truth more terrifying than war: the elemental balance between fire, air, earth, and water is unraveling. A forgotten enemy is moving in the shadows, and the first move has already been made.

To protect her people and prevent the world from being consumed by the rebirth of Primordial Flame, Seris must embrace the fire inside her and confront a legacy of power that has destroyed those who came before her.

But the deeper her bond with Kaelen grows, the more precarious her choices become—because loving him could ignite the very war she’s sworn to stop.

And wearing the crown may save the world…
…or set it ablaze.

The Ember Throne

The throne room was silent. Not with peace—but with a silence so vast it seemed to consume sound itself.

Seris stepped across the fractured threshold, the fused Sovereign's Crown glowing faintly on her brow. Kaelen followed close, blade drawn, his stormfire humming in the deep. Ashra and Arin lingered behind them, wary. The great temple-palace of Solvyris—once blazing with everlight—now stood dim.

No guards. No echoes. Just a vast obsidian dais, cracked down the center, flanked by crumbling pillars etched in ancient flame-script.

"What happened here?" Kaelen whispered.

Ashra bent to the dust, touching the blackened ash. "The Throne should be here—alive, burning, sovereign. But this... this is a tomb."

Seris stepped toward the dais. Her footsteps rang louder than they should. She paused before the ruin of the throne, placing one hand against its cold surface.

Images flooded her vision—blinding and ancient.

A king wreathed in fire, kneeling. The Crown of Cinders, weeping embers. A war not of swords, but souls.

Flame torn from root. Shadow poured through the rift like ink in water.

And in the final flicker, she saw it—the true Throne.

Kaelen was beside her in an instant. "Seris—?"

"I saw it," she gasped. "The first Sovereign. He didn't rule. He sacrificed. Gave his spirit to bind the throne, to keep the Shadow at bay. That's why it was always hollow. It needs a soul to live."

Ashra paled. "You mean the throne takes the ruler's spirit?"

"No," Seris said quietly. "The ruler gives it."

Arin stepped forward, face drawn. "Is that what the Mirror Queen was trying to escape? Was she meant to sit here—and fled?"

Seris nodded. "She ran from the cost. And the Shadow found the gap."

Kaelen gripped her hand. "You are not alone. If this is what must be done—"

"No," Seris said, lifting her gaze. "I won't repeat their mistake. I won't give my soul to another broken cycle. This throne doesn't need a martyr."

She rose, voice steady. "It needs a rebirth."

The Sovereign's Crown gleamed, and the throne began to respond.

But it was no longer red or gold. It was luminous—woven with the silver hues of reflection, and at its core, a spark of deepest violet: the Wellspring's root.

Seris lifted her hands, and the fire didn't burn—it sang.

The Hollow Throne reshaped before them. The crumbled obsidian rose, melted, reformed—glimmering now with veins of mirror-glass and runic fire. At its heart, a new sigil pulsed: twin dragons coiled in unity.

And then, from the surrounding silence, whispers began to rise.

The voices of rulers past. Of those who had given all. They welcomed her—not to die, but to lead.

Seris ascended the steps—not alone, not afraid.

And when she sat upon the throne, it did not take from her.

From the high towers of Solvyris, light erupted—true and ancient, a column of brilliance piercing the broken skies.

And in the corners of the world where shadow still lingered, it recoiled.

In the deepest place where the Mirror Queen had once feared to look—in the ruined vaults of forgotten realms—a figure watched.

Chapter 28: The Hollow Throne