Lilitha_Ntlebi

In a world where mirrors whisper prophecy and fire remembers everything, two souls must choose between power and peace—before the last crown reignites.

The ancient mirrors—once shattered to save the world—have begun to awaken.

Talen, a reluctant heir with a mysterious past, and Lira, a fierce flame-binder with no kingdom to serve, are drawn into a quest to recover the seven mirrors of power. Each mirror reveals not only magic, but devastating truths—about the world's forgotten history, and about themselves.

As storms ignite, fortresses burn, and visions of the past twist into possible futures, Talen and Lira must confront the cost of memory and the seduction of destiny. With every shard they reclaim, the Crownfire stirs—an ancient force that doesn’t seek a ruler, but a vessel.

But what if the only way to save the world… is to refuse to lead it?

In the gripping fourth installment of Crown of Cinders, battles are no longer just fought with swords or flame—but with the truth, with grief, and with the power to walk away.

The fire never sleeps.
But perhaps, it can finally rest.

Crown of Cinders

Chapter Thirty-One: The Mirror That Remained

Talen stood alone in the south garden.

It was early—mist still clung to the lavender leaves, and the sun had not yet cleared the eastern ridge. Riverfort slept. But he couldn't. Not after last night's dream.

Only that it came from a mirror—one not in the vault, not in the Waking Meadow.

He stood in a hallway of crystal and ash, lined with mirrors. All were cracked. Except one. The last one.

Its surface glowed faintly gold, like a fire too tired to burn.

When he touched it, a voice had spoken.

"We still remember you, Flameborn."

But the mirror had replied anyway.

Now, awake beneath the violet trees, he couldn't stop shaking.

Was the mirror a remnant of the Crown Below?

Or was it… something else?

Later that day, as Nyra taught a quiet lesson about the Lost Cities in the glassroom, Talen crept into the old Archives.

They weren't locked. Nothing in Riverfort ever was.

But they were dusty. And forgotten.

Which was exactly why he thought he'd find what he needed there.

He found scrolls about the Tower of Embers. Songs about the seven crowns before the flame. Stories that ended before they truly began.

But nothing on mirrors that speak.

Nothing on dreams that burn gold.

At the bottom of a shelf hidden behind crumbling rope bindings, he found a leather-bound book with no title.

And when he opened it, the pages were blank.

Drawn by hand. Inked in gold leaf.

"The last ember burns where no flame has ever touched.

And the one who remembers it… has already seen it."

He found her an hour later, kneeling beneath the ash tree with her eyes closed.

"I didn't. I remembered it."