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-Three: The Echo Named Valis

The name echoed long after it was spoken.

Talen whispered it again, turning it over in his mouth like a coin he didn't recognize. It had weight—yes—but no clear shape. No face. No origin.

She stood at the balcony rail of the southern tower, arms folded, eyes distant as if the valley might answer her silence.

"Where did you hear it?" she asked quietly.

Lira's voice was low. "The mirror sang it."

Then nodded once. "It's older than any crown. Maybe even older than the fire itself."

That evening, Nyra gathered them both in the Hall of the Unburned—a place few students were allowed. There were no books in this room, no weapons, only relics from before the Crown Below. Sealed jars of ash. A single branch from the Dead Tree. A burned helm with no name.

At the center sat a wide circular table.

A panel shifted, revealing a basin of stone.

A flame appeared—not like any they had seen before. It was silver, not gold. Cold, not warm.

"Only memory can call this flame," she said. "It is called the Light of Echoes. It shows not the past… but the past that still waits to be completed."

Seven figures, hooded and faceless, standing around a boy with silver eyes.

"Valis. The Voicekeeper. One of Seven."

Nyra slowly shook her head. "No. A role. Passed down through bloodlines that have long since scattered. The Voicekeeper was one who remembered not with mind… but with soul. They could speak the names of gods and awaken their echoes."

Lira's eyes widened. "Like the flame. Or the mirror."

Talen frowned. "And what happened to the last Voicekeeper?"

"They were silenced. Before the Crown Below. Before even the Ashen War. Their name was buried to stop what they could awaken."

She looked between the two of them.

"But that name has returned. And it chose you."

That night, thunder rolled beyond the hills for the first time in months.

As if the world itself had started breathing again.

Kael found Nyra at the edge of the orchard.

"It's beginning again. But not as fire. As memory. Something we didn't finish."

Because something deep in her knew—

They might have to face this without her.

Meanwhile, Talen sat by candlelight, reading the last page of the book with the golden mirror.

For the first time, a new line had appeared.

Scrawled in ink that shimmered when tilted.

"Valis returns when the seventh voice is heard."

And in the distance, just past the orchard—

A figure stood in the fog.