Chapter Nine: The Cost of Silence
Love makes you vulnerable. It makes you reckless. And sometimes, it makes you blind to betrayal.
The air stank of smoke and scorched flesh.
Ash rained like snow over the Citadel as Kael limped through the wreckage, a torn banner clenched in one bleeding hand. He hadn't slept. He couldn't. Not when so many were dead.
Not when he knew he'd nearly lost Riven—to fire, to prophecy, to something ancient clawing its way back into the world.
And now, something else haunted him.
Someone was missing.
General Seran.
His most trusted commander. His old friend. The man who'd once pulled Kael out of the wreckage after his first battle. The man who'd whispered loyalty even in the king's shadows.
Gone.
Vanished during the attack.
No corpse. No note. Just an empty command post and the lingering feeling that Kael had been played.
Riven sat curled at the edge of the balcony, eyes locked on the still-burning eastern quarter. His skin was pale, eyes rimmed red not from tears—but from magic. The more he suppressed it, the more it frayed at the edges.
"I killed three of them," he said quietly.
Kael turned from the balcony doorway. "You saved the Citadel."
"I wanted to kill them."
Riven finally looked at him, voice tight. "Do you understand what that means? I wanted to see them burn. And it felt… right."
Kael crossed the room and knelt in front of him. "You held it back. That means more than you think."
"It's getting worse," Riven whispered. "She's getting stronger. I feel her in my dreams now. Calling me by names I don't remember. Ashborn. Herald. Lover."
Kael's jaw clenched.
"We need answers," he said. "And I think I know where to start."
They descended into the Citadel's sealed archives—the ones even the King's scholars feared. Kael unlocked the warded doors with blood and oath, ignoring the deep groan of the ancient magic woven into the stone.
Inside, the scent of old spells and decayed parchment thickened the air.
Riven froze.
His gaze landed on a massive painting hung in the center of the hall. A woman seated on a throne of embers, her eyes glowing gold, her lips curved in a familiar, cruel smile.
The Flame Queen.
And standing beside her—half-shrouded in shadows—was a man.
No name carved beneath his image. No records of his title.
But he looked like Kael.
Riven backed away. "Is that—"
"I don't know," Kael said, voice hollow. "I didn't know this existed."
"You don't believe in coincidences. Neither do I."
Kael's silence stretched too long.
And then Riven asked the one thing he hadn't dared before.
"Do you think we're reincarnated?"
Kael didn't answer.
Instead, he opened a locked case and pulled out a scroll—sealed in flame-waxed sigils.
To awaken the Heartflame is to inherit a war forgotten by time. Two vessels. One key. One crown.
Should the Flameborn choose love, the Queen will choose blood.
"I think," Kael said slowly, "we were always meant to be bound. But not for peace."
They didn't sleep that night.
By morning, the Council had convened.
The nobles were furious. Terrified. Ready to turn on Kael for sheltering the Flameborn—never mind that Riven had saved them all.
"He's a weapon we don't control," Lord Maret snarled. "And a weapon that decides not to kill is still a threat."
Kael stood between Riven and the others, sword unsheathed, armor still stained with ash. "You will not touch him."
The King said nothing. Only watched from his throne, fingers twitching against the carved armrest.
And then Seran returned.
He stood in the chamber doorway, armored, bloodless, with his usual cold smile.
Kael's heart dropped. "Where were you?"
"Fighting," Seran replied smoothly. "Unlike some of us, I don't have the luxury of hiding behind locked doors."
Riven's eyes narrowed. Something in Seran's voice rang wrong. Too clean. Too calm.
Kael noticed it too.
Seran looked between them, then tilted his head. "I've found something useful. A way to sever the bond."
The room froze.
Kael's voice was like ice. "What did you say?"
Seran smiled. "The Heartflame. It can be split. Contained. If one of the bonded dies, the link dissolves. The Queen loses her anchor. It's in the Codex."
Riven took a sharp step back.
"Are you suggesting we kill Riven?" Kael growled.
Seran's smile widened.
"No," he said. "I'm suggesting you do."
The blade was in Kael's hand before he realized it.
"I should kill you where you stand."
"You could try," Seran said, eyes suddenly glowing red.
That's when Riven understood.
"He's one of them," he breathed. "A vessel. She's inside him."
The room erupted into chaos. Council members screamed. Guards drew weapons.
Seran lunged.
Kael met him in a flash of steel. Their swords clashed, magic flaring with every blow.
"You were my brother!" Kael roared.
"I am your brother," Seran sneered. "But you chose him over me."
He swung hard, driving Kael back. "You fell for a cursed flame. I tried to save you."
Kael struck low, slashing Seran's thigh.
"I don't need saving," Kael spat. "I need you gone."
Riven stepped in before the killing blow landed.
His magic surged through the floor, wrapping around Seran like burning chains.
"I won't let her use you," he whispered.
Seran hissed in pain as fire licked at his skin.
And then—just before the flames consumed him—he smiled.
"She already has."
He threw a spell—dark, spiked, and aimed not at Kael…
…but at Eris.
She screamed as it hit her chest.
Blood. Magic. Silence.
She crumpled.
Kael's blade went through Seran's heart a moment later.
The fire died.
The room emptied.
But the wound did not.
Kael dropped to his knees beside Eris's body.
Riven stood frozen, breath shuddering.
She had died because of him.
That night, Kael didn't come to his room.
Riven sat alone, staring into the hearth flames.
She already has.
The Queen had taken someone they loved.
And if the prophecy was right…
She was far from finished.
Some stories are born in blood. And some are written in it.