The shadows deepened as the day waned in the Hollow. Inside the towering, ancient stone fortress of Elaria, Vex stood at the window, watching the darkening horizon. The air was thick with whispers—of power shifting, of names spoken in dread, of the ruler of this land rising from the ashes. But she was not a mere flame to burn brightly for a moment, only to fade. No, she was the fire that would scorch all who dared to challenge her.
The king's court, as expected, had begun to react. The first spies were sent under the guise of gathering intelligence, though they would find nothing but scorched earth. Then came the invitations—an underhanded request for a summit. They believed she would come to negotiate, to surrender, but Vex was not one to bend before any throne. She had come far, far beyond that.
A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts. The maid who entered, Irene, had long since earned her trust, but tonight, the weight of the task at hand was heavy in the air.
"Your Grace," Irene spoke with measured reverence, "There is a development you should know of."
Vex turned to face her, her gaze cold yet intent. "Speak."
"I have confirmed it, my Queen," Irene continued, bowing slightly as she did. "The court, in its desperation, has begun to send emissaries. They plan a summit in the coming weeks. They believe you will come, to discuss terms of your—what they deem—'reinstatement.'"
Vex's lips twisted in a knowing smirk. The audacity. Reinstatement was what they would call her rise—a queen reclaiming her throne.
"They are desperate," Vex said softly, almost to herself. "Desperation leads to mistakes."
Irene lowered her head. "There is more. Thaesen…" She hesitated, her voice thick with unease.
"Thaesen?" Vex's eyes narrowed. The mention of his name stirred something dark inside her, something sharp. "What of him?"
"He has returned."
Vex's gaze flickered with a dangerous amusement. "With what force?"
"He brings the rebellion he gathered in your name," Irene said. "He thought you were dead. He did not know… until now. He came with a single purpose: to serve you."
The words settled into the silence of the room like a storm on the horizon.
Vex remained still, her thoughts swirling. Thaesen. The man who had once been a shadow at her side, the man who had loved her in a way that now felt distant and irrelevant. And yet, now he stood before her—alive, and alive with purpose.
A faint, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped her lips. "He was foolish to think I needed him. But perhaps… perhaps I will let him prove himself."
There was power in this. Power that had nothing to do with love or weakness. The rebellion, the forces he had built, could be hers to wield. She didn't need him—but she could use him.
"Go to him," Vex ordered, her voice soft but iron-clad. "Let him in. Let him kneel before me. He will serve me, or he will burn."
Irene's eyes flickered with a mixture of hesitation and curiosity. "Your Grace, are you certain? You do not need his forces. You have already—"
"I do not need him," Vex cut her off, her voice colder now. "But the rebellion may be useful. Perhaps he will come to realize what I've become. Perhaps he will understand that I am no longer the woman he once knew."
⸻
The rebel camp was a disorganized mess of tents and haphazard defenses. A far cry from the sleek, calculated strategy Vex had employed in her rise. Yet, when Thaesen stood at its edge, watching the men and women he had gathered in her name, his heart swelled with something close to hope. They were hers, now. He had built this army thinking she had died—but now, the ashes had risen, and so had the queen.
She was not dead. She was no longer the woman he had once loved.
When he had first heard rumors of her survival, he thought them to be lies. But the whispers had spread too far, and too many eyes had turned towards the Hollow. Now, he had come to see for himself—and the land he had pledged to fight for had returned to life in the form of Vex Rhiadne.
Vex.
His queen.
He could hardly breathe, his heart hammering with a mix of exhilaration and fear. He had thought her gone. Thought her death would be the end of him, too. But now, here she was. Alive. A storm in human form.
"I'll go to her," he muttered to himself, his voice rough with emotion. He turned to his second-in-command. "Ready the men. We go tonight."
⸻
Vex waited. The fire crackled in the hearth, the only light in the room besides the moon that poured through the window, casting silver light on the dark stone walls. She could feel it—the stirring of something ancient within her, a power far beyond what she had unleashed. Her blood hummed with it, thrumming in her veins like a living thing.
Her thoughts shifted back to Rhydir. He had been at her side, unwavering, even when the world had turned against her. He had destroyed his own kingdom to make her his equal. To make her the ruler she was destined to be.
She thought of Rhydir—not just the man who stood by her side, but the man who had scorched his own world to build her a throne. When the court of Velgrave had whispered doubts about her power—when nobles dared call her a "tainted witch," a "vengeful flame" born of blood and betrayal—Rhydir didn't argue.
He annihilated them.
Not metaphorically. Not politically.
The western court had expected Rhydir to act as a leash, a weapon they could aim at her should she grow unruly. Instead, he had silenced them with fire. When the high chancellor of Velgrave called her a "pretty poison," Rhydir carved the man's tongue out and left it on the council table.
When his own father questioned his loyalty, Rhydir burned the family crest—burned his birthright—and spat at the royal seal.
And when the crown asked him to prove he could control the woman with fire in her veins, he gave them proof: he razed the capital barracks to ash, toppled the western watchtower, and returned with the crest of Velgrave in his hand—blackened, broken, and bleeding.
He didn't do it for love.
He did it for equality.
He did it because in this new empire—her empire—he had no interest in being king above her. Only king beside her. And if her throne was born of fire and vengeance, then so be it—he would wade into the flame barefoot, willingly, and burn the world behind them both.
He had made himself her equal by becoming something no court could tame.
And now, with Thaesen returning, Rhydir didn't see a rival in love.
He saw a rival in loyalty.
————————————————
And now, with Thaesen's return, she was reminded of the world she had left behind.
She sensed him before he even entered—his presence heavy in the air, filling the room with his dark energy. He was here. The moment had arrived.
Rhydir stepped into the room, his eyes locking onto hers with a possessive intensity that only made her smile.
"Are we ready to welcome your former knight back into your fold?" he asked, his voice smooth, yet tinged with something darker. Something sharper.
Vex studied him. "Are you jealous, Rhydir?"
His lips quirked, but his eyes told a different story. "Jealous? I'm not afraid of him, Vex. I just find it… amusing."
"Amusing?"
"His timing, mostly. He returns with an army, believing you need his help."
She tilted her head, regarding him closely. "Do you think I do?"
"No," he answered flatly, stepping closer. "But it will be interesting to see if you're willing to let him prove his worth."
Vex's smile deepened. "I'll let him prove it. But not in the way he thinks."
As Rhydir moved closer, his hand brushing the side of her cheek, the room seemed to close in around them, thick with the tension of things unsaid, things unresolved. The power between them hummed—alive, palpable.
"I could destroy him," Rhydir murmured, his lips almost grazing her ear. "He doesn't know what he's walking into."
Vex's smile was slow and knowing. "I don't need you to destroy him, Rhydir. I need you to help me rule."
Rhydir paused, his fingers tracing the edge of her jaw. "Then let's see who serves you better—him or me."
Her eyes darkened, but the curve of her lips remained. "Let's see."
⸻
The night would be long, and the fire in her soul had only begun to burn. The rebellion stood at her doorstep, a living, breathing force—one she had no need to beg for. And Thaesen would kneel, or he would burn.
But Vex was no longer a woman of pity, no longer the girl he once knew. She was a queen.
And she was ready to reign.