Ashes of the crown

POV: Ariya 🔥🪨💔

The ruins didn't rise from the ground so much as unfold from it.

At first, it was just mossy stone and cracked marble tangled in vines — broken arches buried in mist. But as the group stepped closer, the mist parted to reveal something much older beneath the surface.

A courtyard.

Circular. Carved with spiraling flame patterns that glowed faintly under Ariya's boots.

"This place…" she whispered. "It's alive."

The mark on her collarbone pulsed in agreement.

Kael moved beside her, tense. Jax and Lyra fanned out behind them, cautious but curious. Corven — of course — stood in the center, smiling like he had already been here a hundred times.

"Welcome," he said. "To the Cradle of the First Flamebearers."

Ariya felt dizzy.

The patterns on the stone pulsed under her feet, resonating with her mark. Symbols glowed faintly — not with fire, but with memory.

She had been here.Or maybe someone like her.

"These walls are remembering you," Corven said softly.

She turned sharply. "What?"

He walked past a cracked pillar, trailing his fingers along the flame-worn carvings.

"This temple doesn't respond to magic. It responds to blood. To legacy."

"How do you know that?"

He looked back over his shoulder. "Because I was trained to know."

Kael stepped between them suddenly.

"Trained by who?"

Corven's smile didn't falter. "By those who want her to survive. Isn't that what we all want?"

"You speak in riddles."

"And you glare like a boy with a crush."

Ariya blinked. Kael stiffened.

Jax snorted somewhere behind them. "Awkward…"

But the ruins didn't care for tension.

A low hum rippled across the courtyard.

From the center, a plinth rose from the stone — smooth, black, ancient — and on top of it, a crown of glass and flame. Flickering softly like it was waiting.

Ariya stepped forward.

"Don't touch it!" Lyra called out.

"She doesn't need to," Corven said. "It's not for her hands. It's for her memory."

The crown pulsed with heat.

Ariya gasped.

The world tilted—

FLASH.

A vision.

A woman wreathed in flame, her eyes glowing gold. Holding the same crown. Kneeling before a small child with white hair — eyes like Ariya's.

A voice:

"This is not a weapon. It is a promise. Flame is what we are."

Another voice — one darker, colder:

"And flame will be what ends us."

Ariya collapsed to her knees, gasping. Her mark glowed violently beneath her shirt.

Kael was beside her in an instant.

"What happened?!"

She gripped his arm, dazed. "I saw… I think I saw my mother."

Corven crouched across from her, his expression calm.

"You're remembering what they tried to erase. What they feared."

"Who feared?" Kael growled.

"The kings. The frostblood lines. The Council. Even Ruvan's own ancestors."

He stepped back, letting the words drop like stones.

"You're not just a bearer of the flame, Ariya."

"You're its origin."

Silence.

The wind howled through the ruins.

Ariya couldn't breathe.

Kael's hands gripped hers, grounding her.

"Then why was I left to die in the forest?" she asked, voice cracking.

Corven met her eyes. Calm. Patient.

"Because the world always fears the fire before it understands the light."

But Kael's jaw tightened.

Because everything Corven said — no matter how true — felt like a net.

Woven too carefully.

And he was sure of one thing now:

This stranger hadn't come to help.

He had come to push.