The Priestess Who Lived

For a breathless moment, time stilled.

The flickering light caught the edges of the woman's robes ash-gray, lined with fire-gold thread. Her face was pale and worn, but unmistakable. High Priestess Maereth. The very woman Elara had been condemned for murdering.

Elara's heart stopped. The heat in her limbs vanished.

She wasn't seeing a ghost.

She was seeing a miracle.

"You" Kaelith's voice cracked, disbelieving. "This can't be real."

The Priestess moved slowly, each step echoing with purpose. Her eyes scanned the chamber, pausing on Elara then the imposter who wore Elara's face.

"I never died," Maereth said simply. "Only disappeared."

Kaelith staggered back, barely managing to catch himself against the cold stone wall. "Why? You let an entire war be fought over your death."

"It was a sacrifice," she replied. "To uncover the rot. And now, I see it has spread further than I imagined."

Elara's mind raced. This couldn't be right. If Maereth had been alive… Why had she said nothing during the trial? Why hadn't she saved Elara from the pyre?

"Why now?" Elara rasped. "Why appear now, after everything?"

The Priestess turned her gaze on her. "Because you've finally begun to remember, Elara. The pieces are aligning. The true heir must be revealed fully."

A chill spread down Elara's spine.

Beside Maereth, the impostor stepped forward, her posture regal, her smile venom-sweet. "She means me."

Elara didn't hesitate. "You're not me. You're a shadow wearing stolen skin."

"I'm the Elara who didn't falter. Who passed the flame's test. Who remembered what you chose to forget," the double replied, her voice like silk on steel.

"She's a fake," Elara hissed to Kaelith. "You've known me since we were children."

Kaelith's face was unreadable, but doubt flickered in his eyes. "The flame did reject you," he whispered. "And she passed the Vault's trial."

"Magic can be forged. Lies told. Memories planted."

"But what if they weren't?" Maereth cut in, voice level. "What if both of you are fragments of a whole that was never meant to exist apart?"

Elara froze. "What?"

"You were split," the Priestess said. "Not by accident. Not by prophecy. But by design."

"No…" Elara shook her head. "I remember my life. My pain. My betrayal."

"So does she," Maereth said. "Because you are both the same seed planted in different soil."

The impostor stepped closer, eyes glittering. "Two lives. One throne. And only one crown."

A noise behind them the grind of boots on stone. Guards.

Elara turned sharply. "They'll see her. They'll know"

"No," Maereth said. "They'll see me. And only what I choose to reveal."

With a wave of her hand, golden magic burst outward like dust caught in sunlight. Elara flinched as it passed through her.

The impostor shimmered and disappeared.

Illusion magic.

Maereth stepped to the center of the room as the guards flooded in. She raised both hands.

"Peace. I am Maereth of the Flame," she called out. "Returned from exile. Summon the Crown and Council. I will speak."

The guards froze, stunned, uncertain.

"Do it now!" Kaelith barked, snapping them into action. Several broke off, sprinting toward the palace interior.

Elara backed into the shadows, her hands shaking.

Kaelith glanced at her. "Stay hidden. Whatever game they're playing, you can't afford to be their pawn."

"I won't be," she whispered. "But I will make them regret thinking I could be."

He started to leave, then paused. "I believe you're Elara," he said softly. "But the court won't."

"I don't need their belief," she replied. "Just their silence."

She turned and vanished down the servant corridor, the cool stone swallowing her footsteps.

Behind her, Maereth faced the throne room, cloak swirling like smoke. "Let the kingdom hear the truth," she said to the remaining guards. "The fire chose a new heir."

Later… in a hidden servant stairwell

Elara ripped off the servant's kerchief from her hair and exhaled shakily. Her hands trembled as she gripped the stone railing. Two of her now walked the palace halls. One blessed by the flame. One condemned by it.

But she wasn't going to play the shadow anymore.

No. She would become the fire itself.

She reached into her sash and unfolded the second letter from the Vault the one Kaelith had slipped her.

There, in dark red ink, it read:

"If she speaks first, you die second. If you speak first, she dies before dawn."

Her pulse thundered.

Elara looked up, eyes burning.

Then I'll speak last and make sure no one else lives to interrupt.