Chapter 111: Ashes and Oaths

The ruins of the Black Throne Hall stood as a stark testament to all that had been lost—and all that had been reclaimed. Rubble crunched beneath Serena’s boots as she walked forward, the once-glorious obsidian pillars now cracked and crumbled, half-eaten by flames and magic. A bitter wind howled through the broken arches above, carrying the scent of scorched stone and blood.

And there, at the base of the shattered dais, knelt Varyn.

Chains of enchanted steel bound him at the wrists and ankles, humming softly with protective wards. Blood oozed from a cut at his temple, mixing with soot and ash that stained his once-golden robes. His face, once proud and cruel, was now hollow. Eyes sunken. Pale lips chapped. And yet, when he lifted his head to meet Serena’s gaze, a ghost of a smirk touched his mouth.

"You won," he rasped, voice like gravel. "I hope it was worth it."

Serena didn’t flinch. Her cloak billowed behind her in the cold, her silver eyes sharp and unreadable.

“I didn’t come for victory,” she said. “I came for justice.”

“Justice?” Varyn chuckled weakly, coughing as blood flecked his lips. “You speak like your mother.”

Her fingers curled into fists at her side. “Don’t speak of her.”

"Why not?" His voice grew steadier, almost nostalgic. “She once stood in this very hall, demanding peace. And I—well, I refused. I thought I had time. I thought we had power.”

“And look where that brought you.” Serena stepped closer, the soft glow of her magic still dancing across her skin. “Look at what’s left of your kingdom. The empire you built on blood and fear? It crumbles around you.”

Varyn’s smile faded. He looked away, towards the shattered stained-glass mural that once depicted the rise of the First Mage King. It now lay in shards, colorful fragments scattered across the floor like spilled secrets.

“I did what I thought was right,” he murmured.

“You massacred my kind.”

“I feared your kind,” he admitted. “The prophecy… the fire-born heir… You were always going to rise.”

Serena stepped onto the dais. “And now I have. You were right to be afraid.”

Behind her, Theron and Elias stood watch, weapons drawn, ready for anything. Zara leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, a cruel satisfaction in her gaze.

“You should kill him,” Zara said, her voice low and cold. “End it. Right here. Right now.”

Serena didn’t move. Her eyes remained on Varyn.

“I want to,” she admitted.

"Then do it," Varyn whispered. "Let the bloodline end with me."

But something inside Serena shifted. She’d spent her whole life chasing this moment—imagining the revenge, the release, the justice. And yet, now that she had him at her feet, she realized…

“I’m not like you,” she said finally. “Killing you would make me what I hate.”

Varyn closed his eyes.

“So what will you do? Spare me?”

Serena turned away.

“No. I’ll make sure you live to witness everything you tried to destroy rise again. You’ll see the kingdoms unite, the old magic return. You’ll hear my name whispered in the winds long after you rot in the dark.”

With a sharp nod, she signaled to the guards. Two mages approached, lifting Varyn with barely veiled disgust.

“Take him to the Ice Cages. No light. No name. No mercy.”

As they dragged him away, Varyn didn't fight. He simply watched her—quiet, resigned, perhaps even… relieved.

The silence that followed was thick.

Elias approached her side. “You could’ve killed him.”

“I know.”

Theron sheathed his sword. “It was the right choice.”

Zara muttered, “Debatable.”

Serena finally turned to face them all.

“We don’t have time to argue. Varyn was just one piece. The rest of the Shadow Council will retaliate.”

“They already are,” Elias said grimly. “Scouts report movement in the eastern valleys. The Bone Riders are gathering.”

“We need allies,” Serena said. “Real ones.”

“You plan to beg the Wyrm Lords for aid?” Theron asked. “They don’t answer to anyone—not even blood heirs.”

“I won’t beg,” she said. “But I’ll offer something they’ve never had—hope.”

Zara sighed, pushing off the wall. “Then we better move. Fast.”

They left the throne hall in silence, stepping into the bleak dawn. Snow had begun to fall—soft, silent flakes dancing in the wind. The city lay beneath them, still burning in places, its people rebuilding amidst the wreckage of rebellion and war.

Everywhere Serena looked, she saw loss.

But she also saw strength.

A woman passed them, her arm in a sling, dragging a broken cart filled with food supplies. A child clung to her leg, silent but wide-eyed. Two old soldiers helped mend a broken gate. And from a far tower, someone had hung a makeshift banner—white and gold, the colors of the Phoenix.

Her sigil.

They saw her and whispered her name.

Not in fear. Not in awe.

But in faith.

Serena swallowed the lump in her throat.

She hadn’t asked for any of this.

But maybe… maybe she was meant for it after all.

That night, as the fires dimmed and the city fell into uneasy slumber, Serena sat alone in the war room. Maps were spread across the massive oak table, pins marking cities still loyal to the Council, red lines indicating known troop movements.

Elias entered quietly, setting a steaming cup of tea beside her.

“You’ve been in here for hours,” he said.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

She didn’t look up. “Did you ever imagine we’d make it this far?”

“No. But I always hoped we would.”

Finally, she met his gaze. “What if we lose, Elias?”

He pulled up a chair beside her. “Then we fight harder.”

“And if we die?”

“Then we die knowing we stood for something greater than ourselves.”

Silence stretched between them.

She reached for his hand.

“Stay with me.”

“Always.”

Outside, the snow fell heavier.

But inside, the fire burned brighter.

And far to the north, the dragons stirred from their slumber.