After The Ashes
Blythe's POV
At Blythe's private study—twilight hours.
The wind rustled against the cracked windowpane. Blythe stood silent, staring out at the horizon—lost in memory too loud to silence.
Aria (her inner wolf):
"You're doing it again."
Blythe:
"Doing what?"
Aria:
"Staring out there like you'll find the past in the trees."
THE LEGACY FRACTURESThe Vote of ShadowsCouncil Hall, CapitalThe Provisional Council sits in a circle of obsidian thrones in the ruined High Temple hall, scorched and hastily reconstructed. Cracks line the marble floor like a map of division. Rain pounds the skylights, but inside, the air is thick with dread.Councilman Tarek (rubbing his temple):"We've received Arion's latest decree. He offers peace... if we disband the Flame Line entirely and crown him by bloodright."Councilwoman Maldra (dryly):"And if we don't?"
THREE FLAMES, ONE GRAVEArrival at AshgraveA veil of volcanic ash rains gently as Xavier, Ceres, and Maera approach the ancient caldera known as Ashgrave. The landscape is scorched black and red, steaming in places. Jagged peaks encircle the bowl of the grave like broken teeth. Fire dances below the obsidian floor—alive, whispering.Maera (holding her hood against the heat):“Even the wind here burns with memory. This is where they laid the first Flamebloods. And where some say the flame itself first bled.”Xavier (scanning the ash-covered terrain):&ldquo
THE QUEEN IN THE UNDERGROUNDThe Secret PassageCeres's boots echo against damp stone as she descends the narrow tunnel beneath the western wing of the palace. She carries a lantern made of flame crystal, its glow casting flickers against the crumbling walls.Ceres (murmuring to herself): "This tunnel wasn't on any map. Not even Maera knew the path. So why would she send me here?"A whisper of air brushes her cheek. The stones seem to pulse faintly as though remembering old secrets.Ceres
WHAT WOLVES DO IN DARKNESSThe Fire That SpeaksAcross the realm. Fires flare to life from crumbling villages to distant strongholds—not from wood or oil, but from sigil-burned stones. Wolves pause as the flames dance, then shift into images. Arion's voice rises in every hearth, every campfire, every pyre.Arion (projected from flame, voice smooth, commanding):"Brothers. Sisters. Heirs of Ash. You were not born to kneel beneath crumbling thrones. You were forged for more."In the capital, Xavier, Ceres, and Maera stand before one such flame inside the war chamber. Councilmen and rebel generals gather behind them, gr
ASHES IN THE MIRRORThe Edge of SilenceA barren field of shattered stone and blackened roots. Snow falls in drifting silence across the ruins of an old battlefield in the Western Flats. The ghost of fire still lingers on the earth. Xavier walks alone, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the prophecy. Ashes rise like breath from the ground, disturbed by his steps. The sky above is a colorless dome, streaked by smoke-laced clouds.Xavier (muttering to himself): "I thought I'd buried you, Father. Along with your shadow. But you're still here, aren't you? In every warning. Every flame. Every damned vision."He kneels
THE RIVER OF TONGUESArrival at RivenmouthTwilight descends as Ceres and Xavier arrive at the edge of a narrow gorge hidden beneath the western cliffs. The wind howls eerily between jagged rocks, and the scent of sulfur hangs in the air. The Temple of Rivenmouth looms ahead, carved into the mountain's mouth like a beast frozen mid-roar. Between them and the temple lies a slow, glowing river—its current an unnatural hue, pulsing like blood beneath flame.Xavier (holding the reins of their horse as they dismount):"This place... it reeks of silence. Not peace—something older. Something forgotten."Ceres (steppin