Fire Against Fire

Chapter Thirteen: Fire Against Fire

The sky over the Valley of Hollow Crowns split open.

Flames roared not from torches or dragonfire, but from the very air—twisting into shapes that clawed the heavens. The Hollow Queen rose like a goddess reborn, her hair a wild blaze, her crown no longer broken but reforged in ash and light. Each step she took scorched the ground, and the statues that lined the valley crumbled, unable to endure the weight of her presence.

Nyra stood at the heart of the storm, Emberblade in hand, her rebels fanned out behind her—Estra and Kael at the front, eyes locked on the advancing flame.

But none of them could breathe.

Not because of the smoke.

Because the air itself was afraid.

The Hollow Queen raised her hand, and a thousand burning petals spiraled into the sky. Her voice echoed across the valley, layered with a power that made even Kael stagger.

"You carry my blood, Nyra Flameborn. That means you carry my choice. One spark and we rise together, eternal. Deny me… and I will erase your name from time itself."

Nyra's grip tightened.

The Emberblade burned hotter than it ever had.

But inside her chest, another fire flickered.

A smaller one.

A human one.

Estra notched an arrow, aiming for the Hollow Queen's heart. "If she gets to the mountain pass, she'll burn the eastern cities."

"She won't," Nyra said. "This ends here."

Kael stepped to her side. "We'll hold the line. You face her."

"No," Nyra said. "We face her. Together."

The Hollow Queen descended from her throne.

The flames shifted behind her.

Shadows rose from the ash—warriors made of smoke and memory, flickering in and out of sight. They wore no armor, no sigils—only the face of everyone the rebellion had ever lost.

Nyra's knees nearly buckled.

One of them… wore her father's face.

Kael saw it too. "She's using your grief against you."

"I know."

The Hollow Queen smiled softly. "Why fight the storm when you are the storm?"

And then it began.

The phantoms surged forward like a tide of despair.

Estra fired arrows as fast as she could draw, each one bursting through a shadow, only for another to rise behind it. Kael slashed through a dozen illusions, his blade dripping with flame—but the shadows only laughed.

And Nyra—Nyra ran straight toward the Hollow Queen.

Their blades met in a clash of past and future.

Steel rang.

Flames cracked.

Time shuddered.

"You are not strong enough," the Hollow Queen whispered, circling her. "You carry the light, but you've never learned to wield the dark."

Nyra parried high. "I don't need the dark to be strong."

The Hollow Queen struck again, harder this time. The Emberblade blocked the blow, but Nyra felt the heat crawl into her mind—into her heart.

"You bleed for others. You carry their hopes. But what about your own?" the Queen hissed. "Don't you want to rest? To be seen?"

"I want to burn down the fear you left behind," Nyra spat.

The Queen laughed.

"Then burn, little flame."

Behind them, Kael fell to one knee. A phantom had slashed his shoulder—nonphysical, yet it left a wound that pulsed with frost.

"Kael!" Nyra shouted.

She broke from the duel and dashed to his side, swinging the Emberblade in a wide arc to clear the shadows. The Hollow Queen watched from her throne of flame, lips curved.

"She is your weakness," the Queen said. "So many queens fall because of the ones they love."

"Then maybe you should've loved someone," Nyra snapped.

Kael struggled to rise. "You can't beat her alone."

Nyra looked at her hands.

At the Emberblade.

At the mark on her palm.

Then she looked at Kael.

And knew the truth.

The Emberblade had never been hers alone. It needed a bond. A memory. A reason.

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

"I don't need to carry the flame alone."

She placed his hand on the hilt of the Emberblade.

It responded.

The light changed.

No longer just fire.

Now it pulsed with something deeper—grief, yes, but also devotion.

Hope.

The Emberblade exploded in a storm of golden fire.

The Hollow Queen recoiled.

"What have you done?"

Nyra and Kael stood together, hands joined on the blade.

The shadows around them froze.

Then shattered.

The Queen's illusions fell away, and for the first time… she looked mortal.

"You're afraid," Nyra said.

"I am eternal!" the Queen shrieked.

"No," Nyra said. "You're alone."

She charged.

The Emberblade blazed as Kael and Nyra struck together—two wills, one flame.

The Hollow Queen raised her blade to block—

But it shattered on contact.

The fire engulfed her, not in destruction…

But in release.

She dropped to her knees.

The crown fell from her head and cracked on the stone.

The flames died.

And in their place sat only a woman—tired, empty, and weeping.

"I only wanted to be remembered," she whispered.

"You were," Nyra said, kneeling beside her. "But now… we remember you for something else."

She took the Queen's hand.

And closed her eyes.

In the stillness that followed, the wind returned to the valley. The statues no longer wept. The ash stopped falling.

The Hollow Queen's body crumbled—not into dust, but into light, scattering like embers into the morning sky.

Kael exhaled, his hand still wrapped around Nyra's.

Estra approached, bruised and bloody. "Is it done?"

Nyra stood.

Not taller.

Not grander.

But freer.

"Yes," she said. "It's done."

And as they turned toward the path home, the valley behind them bloomed—not with fire, but with wildflowers no one had seen in a hundred years.