THE ALTAR WE BURNED
"You’re still here. With me."
"Not for long," she whispered. "They will try again. They won’t stop."
"Then neither will we."
---
Far across the continent, in the private quarters of the Pontifex Cardinal, a letter arrived sealed in wax. He broke it, scanned its contents, and frowned.
"The Flame is no longer dormant. The vessel is aware."
He looked up at the gathering of red-vested clergy.
"Then we no longer observe. We act."
---
That night, as Isabella slept, a new dream came—not of fire or water, but of a throne surrounded by wolves. Upon it, she sat—not as a priestess or a vessel, but a queen. A voice echoed:
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