Ashes of the crown

POV: Lira ❄️🔥🎭

The borderlands were colder than Lira remembered.

And not just from the wind that scraped across the stone ridges — but from the silence. The unnatural stillness that clung to this side of the war line, where peace had never truly existed. Only pauses between bloodshed.

Lira wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, her breath curling in the moonlight as she stepped carefully along a crumbling pass. Her froststeel boots made no sound. She'd trained for this. Hidden travel. Unseen movement. Her brother had taught her, ironically.

She smirked to herself.

"I doubt he expected me to use his tricks against him."

A gust of wind tugged her braid loose, silver strands catching the starlight.

"He's trying to break her," she whispered aloud. "And if I don't warn her first, he might succeed."

She paused at a narrow cliff's edge, scanning the map she'd etched on the inside of her gauntlet.

The orb in her pack pulsed again — soft orange light, drawn toward something further south. Toward Ariya.

The Flamebearer.

The girl Ruvan claimed was dangerous. Wild. Unstable.

But Lira didn't believe that for a second.

She'd seen the surveillance shards.

Ariya saved her team. Protected innocents. Risked herself for those she barely knew.

And more than that… she burned with purpose.

Lira knew what that looked like. She'd once seen it in her brother.

Before the crown twisted it into something cold.

As she descended into the canyon pass, a shadow moved in the distance.

She dropped low instantly — one hand on her dagger, the other brushing the charm around her neck. Frost magic shimmered over her skin, cloaking her presence like a ripple in the air.

Two figures approached on horseback. Their armor glinted black.

Frostborn patrol.

"So he is watching me," she muttered.

But they weren't here just to spy.

They were carrying a mirror shard — linked to the palace.

A communication line.

She waited until they passed, then stalked them silently, heart pounding.

At the next ridge, the soldiers dismounted and one held the mirror up to his mouth.

"Unit Nine. Confirming movement. Target heading toward Flame ruins. Orders?"

A distorted voice echoed back.

"Let her go. Track, don't interfere. The prince is watching. If she makes contact… he'll decide what happens next."

Lira's stomach turned.

He's already planning to use me.

She stepped back, breathing shallowly.

Then made a decision.

That night, she didn't sleep.

She camped under a canopy of burnt trees — remnants of a battlefield long forgotten — and watched the flame orb pulse slowly, steadily.

Ariya was close.

And so was danger.

Lira drew out the second item she'd stolen from the Frost Citadel's vault: a ring of white-gold inscribed with an ancient rune — the Sigil of Silence. A truth-unbinding token. It would allow her to speak without being magically traced.

She slipped it on her finger and whispered to the wind:

"Ariya Flameborn. My name is Lira. I'm not your enemy."

Nothing happened.

But the wind shifted.

The orb glowed brighter.

"You've always been good at talking to shadows," said a voice behind her.

Lira froze — spun — blade out.

But it was only Corven. Stepping from the shadows, silver-eyed, calm, smug.

"How long have you been following me?" she hissed.

"Long enough," he said. "Long enough to wonder if you're a princess… or a traitor."

"That depends," she snapped, raising her blade, "on who the kingdom's real enemy is."

He smiled faintly.

"That's a dangerous question, Your Highness."

"Then maybe it's time someone asked it."