Ashes of the crown

POV: Ariya 🌙🔥💔

The wind had died.

Even the Wastes — loud with heat and whispering ash — had fallen silent as if the world itself was waiting.

Ariya sat on a ridge above the Vault, the flame shard in her hand glowing faintly in the dusk. Her thoughts were knotted, tangled threads she couldn't untie. Eira's past. Ruvan's betrayal. The voice in the dark.

And the worst question of all:

If I was made from someone else… is there anything left of me?

Kael was nearby, sharpening his blade by firelight, humming softly. Jax and Lyra bickered over rations. Normal things. Earth-things. She envied them.

Then she felt it — a shift.

A drop in pressure.

Like something stepped into the world beside her.

She stood slowly, every instinct flaring.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Only the smell of flowers.

Wild juniper and frostlilies.

She hadn't smelled that since…

Ariya spun — and froze.

A woman stood ten paces away.

Cloaked in starlight. Hair braided in the same style Ariya remembered from half-forgotten dreams. A voice as soft as lullabies that no longer had a home.

"Ariya," the woman whispered. "My little flame."

Ariya's heart stopped.

"No…"

Her voice trembled.

"Mother?"

She didn't remember much.

Only flashes from long ago — a warm lap, stories of flame creatures, songs hummed in the dark. She had spent her life convincing herself those were fake.

But now, here she was.

The woman stepped forward slowly, her eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay. They took you so fast. We thought… you were gone."

"But… how are you alive?" Ariya asked. Her voice was barely more than breath.

"I wasn't. Not really." She reached out, not touching — but near. "But pieces of me… were sealed in you. Just like Eira's flame."

Ariya shook her head, dazed. "This has to be another trick. Another vision."

"No trick," the woman said gently. "Only memory that finally had a door."

Behind her, the stars shifted strangely — like they were too still. Too clean.

But Ariya stepped forward anyway.

"Did you know what they did to me?"

"I fought it," her mother whispered. "I tried to stop them. But your power was too strong — even then. The Frost Court feared you. Even some in the Flame."

"So they sealed me away."

"They tried to erase you," the woman said. "But you burned anyway."

Ariya's knees gave way. She sank into the ash, barely breathing. "Then why… do I feel like I've never belonged anywhere?"

The woman knelt beside her.

"Because they tried to give you a destiny before you had a name."

She brushed a phantom hand across Ariya's cheek.

"But you're not Eira. You're not a weapon. You're not their creation."

"Then what am I?" Ariya choked.

"You're the one who gets to choose."

Ariya reached for her. Just once.

Her fingers passed through air.

The illusion shimmered.

Her heart cracked.

And the world tilted.

The voice changed — only slightly.

But enough.

"Let your fire rest now," it said. "Let someone else carry the burden. You deserve peace."

Ariya blinked.

"What?"

The woman — her mother — no longer smelled like flowers. No longer flickered like memory.

Now she gleamed faintly blue.

Frost blue.

"You're not her."

Ariya stood fast, fire flaring around her.

The illusion stared back coldly.

And smiled.

"But I gave you what you needed, didn't I?"

The vision vanished in a gust of wind.

Leaving nothing behind but ash.

Far away, Ruvan sat before the flameglass, watching her collapse to her knees.

"She'll question everything now," Corven said behind him. "Even herself."

"Good," Ruvan replied softly. "Break her with hope. Then I'll offer something worse: truth.

AND THEN