Heir Of Fire Audiobook Free Novels & Stories

The scent of rust fills my nose. I hear chains rattling somewhere nearby. Voices echo around me. Too far away to understand. Too distorted to recognize. I try to move. My body refuses. Panic begins to creep into my chest. A familiar scent reaches me. Pine. Rain. Forest. Lyall. Relief floods through me. He is here. Somewhere close. I try to call out to him. Nothing comes out. Then another scent appears. One that I cannot identify. It wraps around me like smoke.

Her head held up high nodding with silent approval. Yes, their plan would work. In a matter of time, Larissa would be in the castle and the much coveted stones that Silver Falcon wanted would be within their grasp. She would find it. Hydra was confident in her for some reasons, not only in the abilities that Summer had not yet known she possessed but in Silver Falcon's visions that had never failed him. "This will give you an advantage over the others. You must use it well." "The King and Queen will be curious about you, the Prince too. Let's hope he doesn't have any favourites yet, he'll certainly be of use to you some way or the other."

As she stepped forward, her hand brushed the surface—and the book opened on its own. Pages flipped with invisible wind, landing on a single, ancient passage: “The phoenix is not born of ashes. She is born of betrayal. And when her flame chooses, it burns not for blood… but for truth.” A second page glowed beneath it: Names. Bloodlines. Truths. And then…A final entry: C-Alpha 00: Status — Confirmed Heir by Fire Next of Line: Undecided A final instruction blinked beneath: ‘Choose your successor.’ Her hand hovered over the glyph. Then—A scream echoed through the vault.

Before Her Heir. Sienna’s breath caught. “Her Heir,” she whispered. Harvey’s face paled. “No. No, Sienna, you don’t understand. It’s not just about the bloodline. It’s what you’re meant to do with it. You’re not just the heir... you are the one who will either break the curse or become its next victim.” Sienna looked at the journal again, her heart racing. The final words echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain: Her Heir. Her destiny had just been laid bare before her, and she had no idea how to stop the storm that was about to break.

His body convulsed, chains rattling, his smirk finally shattering. Then his voice rose, strangled but clear: “They want the Source of Fire. The beginning. The first flame. It hides in the blood of the heirs. In you. In them!” His head jerked toward Arden and Lyra. The crowd gasped as one, the sound like a physical blow. All eyes swung to the heirs, shock and fear colliding in a tidal wave of whispers. Lyra’s blood ran cold. Arden’s heart hammered in his chest. The truth hung in the air, undeniable, unerasable.

A soft sweet wind began to blow, carrying with it a strange, melodic whisper, as if the very world was speaking in a language I couldn’t understand. And then, finally, the figure spoke again. “standing before you is the Keeper of the Flame freya, and you are the heir o the flame.” Amazing and confused. The words hit me like a punch. Heir? “how? I don't understand . what do you mean?” I asked. my voice growing weak. “What is this flame? What are you talking about?”

"I need to collect my things. My mother's journals. The few heirlooms that survived the fire. You cannot just erase my life like it’s a ledger entry." He narrows his eyes, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his handsome, chiseled face. He steps into my space, his sheer proximity forcing me to tilt my head back just to meet his piercing, unreadable gaze. He smells of scorched pine and something metallic, like a coming storm. "There is nothing left, Aichonne. The fire took it all. The wood, the silk, the history. Your sentimentality is a luxury, and in this war, it is a liability we cannot afford."

Because of what the connection whispered next. The Lost Heir has returned. The words echoed through every part of me. Lost Heir. Not Eighth Heir. Lost. Which meant... The Well Keeper had told me the Seven Heirs were one family. If there was a Lost Heir... Then someone hadn't been added to history. Someone had been erased from it. The hooded figure slowly lifted one hand. The sky above the throne darkened. The fracture across the heavens widened. And a voice, calm enough to chill the soul, carried across impossible distances.

“I declare this today and all of you here are my eyewitnesses, my eldest daughter, Audrey RedField will become my heir, everything I have will be given to her. Everything, including control of this household. I will repeat myself again, Audrey RedField is my heir!” “Nooo!”