Ashes of the crown

POV: Ariya 🔥🌫️🗺️

The wasteland burned — not with fire, but with memory.

Cracked earth stretched for miles in every direction, scorched by long-dead wars. Blackened trees rose like skeletal fingers clawing at the sun, and the air shimmered with rising heat. Every step kicked up ash that clung to their boots and skin, leaving trails behind them like ghosts.

Ariya led the way in silence, her cloak drawn tight against the wind, her eyes fixed on the horizon where broken pillars jutted from a sunken ridge.

"We're walking into a tomb," Lyra muttered, brushing ash from her hood.

"Not just a tomb," Ariya said quietly. "A vault."

"A vault of what, exactly?" Jax asked, tossing a pebble into the air. "Old bones and bad vibes?"

"Memories," Ariya whispered. "Ones I've never lived… but feel like mine."

Kael walked beside her, silent. But his hand occasionally brushed her arm, as if making sure she was still here.

They reached the first ruins by dusk.

Carved stones poked through the dust — ancient symbols half-melted by time. The ground sloped down into a crumbled amphitheater, ringed by statues of flame and frost locked in eternal battle.

Ariya stood in the center.

The mark on her collarbone pulsed — not painfully, but insistently.

And then it happened.

A flash.

She was somewhere else.

Not herself.

Not now.

Her body moved without her — stepping through the amphitheater as if it were whole, glowing with banners and cheers.

Flamebearers stood in armor. Proud. Glorious.

A girl stood in the center of the ring.

She looked like Ariya.

She wasn't.

Her name echoed in the chamber — Eira.

A spark-child. A chosen one. Half flame, half frost. Born to unify two broken powers.

"You will end the war," a voice whispered. "Or you will burn with it."

Ariya gasped — and the vision shattered.

She dropped to one knee, chest heaving.

Kael was beside her instantly. "Ariya—what did you see?"

"Her," she whispered. "The girl I keep dreaming about… her name was Eira."

"The first Flamebearer?" Lyra asked, eyes wide.

Ariya shook her head.

"No. She wasn't the first. She was the last before they erased them all."

She stood slowly, dust clinging to her fingers.

"I think… I'm what they tried to remake."

Jax crouched nearby, poking one of the statues. "So you're basically a reincarnated hero with a history of causing chaos. That tracks."

"I don't think it's a reincarnation," Ariya said slowly. "I think it's a template. They sealed her memories inside me. Or someone else's."

"You mean… all those visions…" Kael started.

"They weren't dreams," she finished. "They were downloads. Someone wanted me to become her."

As they settled into camp, the group grew quiet. Even Jax stopped joking. The desert wind howled through the ruins, carrying whispers none of them wanted to hear.

Kael sat beside Ariya long after the others had drifted to sleep.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

She didn't answer right away.

Then, "What if who I am isn't mine at all? What if every step I take is one someone else planned for me?"

Kael reached over and gently took her hand.

"Then we burn the script," he said. "And you write your own."

She looked at him.

And for a moment, the warmth in his eyes grounded her more than fire ever could.

Far away, in the Frost Citadel, Ruvan watched the flame in his mirror flicker gold and blue.

"The Wastes have awakened her," he said.

"She's learning too much too quickly," Corven muttered behind him.

"Good," Ruvan replied coldly. "Because the more she remembers… the easier it will be to use it against her."