The Bond Beyond Fire

The sky bled red that morning. Veins of storm-gray clouds laced the horizon, painting the mountains in a shade of warning Kael hadn't seen in years. Not since the night of the Seer's Massacre, when the streets of the capital had run slick with blood and temple bells rang in panic.

Now, the wind that whispered across the peaks carried the same kind of dread.

Elira stood at the cliff's edge, hair loose, catching the wind like a battle flag. She didn't flinch at the cold biting through the heights — her blood ran too hot now. The revelations from the Archive still burned in her veins: the tether to Eryx, the truth of her birth, the twisted prophecy that had tied her fate to ruin long before she could speak.

"Tell me something," she said without turning. "If you knew killing me would stop the Undying King… would you do it?"

Kael had just stepped from behind a jagged outcrop, his cloak rippling in the wind. He didn't pause.

"No."

She turned toward him, brows lifting in quiet surprise.

"Even if it meant saving thousands?"

"I don't believe in killing the light to stop the dark," he said simply. "We'll find another way. And if there isn't one, we'll make it."

Elira's lips parted, but no words came. Something in her chest loosened — just slightly.

By noon, they were descending the winding mountain trail, headed toward the Forsaken Divide — a cursed gorge that cleaved the continent in two. Once, it had been sacred ground. Now, it was all bones and broken magic, littered with the whispers of forgotten gods.

They moved quickly. The prophecy had made it clear: if the Undying King crossed the Divide, the tether would be sealed. And once that happened, no power in this realm could stop him.

At the narrow pass called Serpent's Spine, a sound rose from the depths of the chasm — low and shrill, not quite human.

Kael's hand went to his sword. "That's not the wind."

Figures emerged from the fog. Cloaked shapes with bone masks and robes of ash — the Harbingers.

Eryx's creatures.

Elira stepped forward, hands glowing with pale fire. But the Harbingers didn't attack.

They bowed.

"Elira Veyrindrel," one rasped, voice raw as gravel. "The Bound Queen calls for your answer."

"I destroyed the Bound Queen," Elira said, her voice cold.

"You shattered the mirror," the creature replied. "But she lives — inside you. And she calls."

He lifted a withered hand, revealing a small, violet-glowing orb.

Mirror magic.

A portal stone.

Elira's magic stirred instantly — reacting to it. To him. To the bond Eryx had carved into her during the mirror ritual.

"She's calling you," the Harbinger whispered.

Kael stepped closer. "You're not going."

But Elira didn't look at him. She couldn't tear her eyes from the stone.

"If I don't go," she said softly, "he'll drag me there anyway."

And before Kael could stop her, she reached for it.

The world collapsed inward.

Light twisted. Color vanished. And sound shattered.

Then — silence.

She landed hard on glass.

Not ground. Not earth. A mirror.

The Mirror Realm had pulled her in again.

But this time, it was different.

Lightning tore the sky. The stars wept red. And at the center of a shattered throne room stood a version of herself — older, colder, cracked like porcelain.

The Bound Queen.

"You broke me," the Queen murmured. "And yet, here you are. Crawling back."

"I didn't come to serve," Elira said. "I came to end this."

"You can't end what you are," the Queen whispered. "I'm the future you keep running from."

"No," Elira said. "You're just fear with a crown."

The Queen smiled. "And what happens when you lose your fear?"

She turned toward the mirrors behind her.

And Elira saw it.

Kael — dying on a spear of black flame. The kingdom in ruin. Her own face, cold and hollow, ruling from a throne made of bone.

"No," Elira whispered. "This isn't truth. It's a nightmare."

The vision shifted.

Kael stood before her now, in chains. A broken crown at his feet. The Bound Queen offered him a blade.

Kill her, she whispered, or be consumed with her.

Then — everything spun.

Elira was back in her body, in the real world — but trapped, convulsing, eyes glowing, voice muttering ancient words.

Kael knelt over her, gripping her trembling shoulders. Thorne had just arrived, flanked by two soldiers.

"She's trapped in the mirror," Kael said, panic in his voice.

Thorne pulled a pouch from his belt. Inside — a black blade.

"Soulsteel," he said. "It can cut between realms. But use it wrong, and it'll kill her."

Kael didn't hesitate.

He knelt beside Elira, pressed the blade gently to her chest, and whispered, "Come back to me. Please."

He drove it in — careful, steady.

Inside the mirror, Elira gasped.

The Queen screamed.

The throne crumbled.

And Kael's voice — his real voice — echoed through the glass and smoke and fear.

"Come back to me."

Elira turned toward the sound.

And ran.

Ran through the breaking mirrors, through fire and shadow and memory. Toward the one voice that still made her feel real.

She leapt.

And woke.

Gasping.

Eyes flickering from violet to gold to silver.

Kael caught her as she fell forward, wrapping her in his arms, shaking.

"You came back," he breathed.

She nodded, weakly. "Because you pulled me back."

They held each other there, in the shadow of the Divide, as the clouds above burst open.

Far across the valley, the Undying King stepped into the realm.

And war had begun.