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 Forty-Three: The Seventh Flame

There was no road to the last mirror.

Talen and Lira stood at the edge of the world.

Behind them: the mirrors, the storms, the echoes of gods and ghosts.

Before them: a door made of nothing but fire.

It floated above a flat plateau of obsidian, ringed with charred stone spires.

In the sky above, no sun shone.

Only a deep red ember, pulsing like a final heartbeat.

"This is it," Lira said, her voice quiet with awe and dread. "The Crownforge."

"I dreamed of this place when I was a child," he whispered. "I thought it was just a nightmare."

"It was," she said. "Until it wasn't."

The Seventh Mirror—the Mirror of Origin—waited beyond that door.

Unlike the others, it wasn't hidden.

It wanted to be found.

Talen drew the six shards from his cloak and laid them in a circle on the obsidian ground. One by one, they rose—hovering in the air, each glowing with its own hue: red, blue, silver, white, black, and gold.

As they spun faster, a spiral of flame stretched between them.

The fire was pure.

Talen reached out and took Lira's hand.

She squeezed it tightly. "We finish it together."

They stood in a vast, empty chamber with no walls, no ceiling.

Images hovered all around them—floating like leaves on wind:

The first fire, sparked in darkness.

The forging of the mirrors by hands made of starlight.

Seven figures standing in a circle, each crowned with fire.

A throne crumbling under the weight of silence.

The moment Valis broke the mirrors to protect the world.

They saw the Mirror of Origin.

It was all of them.

A swirling orb, shifting through every color, every flame, every shadow.

It pulsed in time with their hearts.

He saw himself refusing the throne, turning away, and vanishing into exile.

He saw himself accepting it, burning cities in the name of peace.

And worse: he saw Lira—alone, broken, haunted by his choices.

A world where she never met Talen.

A world where she betrayed him.

A world where she led him to the mirror... and left him there.

You are the flame between them."

The Mirror of Origin began to fracture—not from damage, but from choice.

"We don't have to take it," she said. "What if the whole point of this… was to let it go?"

The mirror had never wanted a ruler.

It had waited for someone who would choose not to rule.

He looked the crown in the eye and said:

Across the world, every mirror pulsed one final time—and then vanished.

In Riverfort, Nyra dropped to her knees, tears in her eyes.

In Ashwatch, the Vault of Flames collapsed—quietly, gently.

And in the Frostmarch, the cave melted into sunlight.

Talen and Lira awoke lying side by side on a hill above Riverfort, the morning sun warming their faces.