I turned just in time to see Kael Voryn step forward, his cold smirk now gone.

  "Kira," Voryn said, his voice low and cutting, "I’ve waited a long time to put you in your place." His grip on his blade tightened. "But it’s almost disappointing how predictable you are. Did you really think this would end any other way?"

  Adrenaline surged through me, drowning out his taunts. The sword I’d kicked from the king’s grasp lay tantalizingly out of reach.

  Voryn’s hand moved deliberately to the hilt of the sword at his side. Nyxbrand.

  "You know," he began, "this sword and I have shared countless victories. Do you know what they all have in common?"

  I didn’t answer, my breath catching as he slowly drew the blade from its scabbard. The sound of steel against leather sent a chill down my spine, but it was what came next that made my blood run cold.

  The moment the blade was fully unsheathed, it ignited in a blaze of fire. Flames erupted along its edge, consuming the dark metal in a flickering inferno that seemed almost alive. Heat rippled through the air, distorting the space around him, and the firelight danced madly on the mirrored walls.

  Voryn’s grin widened as he swung the sword experimentally, leaving trails of fire in its wake. "Everything this sword slices," he said, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "there’s nothing left of it after. Only ash."

  I could feel Kilian trembling beside me, his breathing shallow and panicked. My heart lurched, a cold fear clawing at my insides. I couldn’t let him near Kilian. Voryn wasn’t here to play games—he was here to kill. And I wasn’t going to give him an easy target.

  I shoved my brother to the side with all the strength I could muster. "Stay back!" I yelled, my voice sharper than I intended. "I’ll handle this."

  Turning back to Voryn, I saw the cold amusement in his eyes, as though he’d already figured out my plan. That smirk, that cruel twist of his lips, only hardened my resolve.

  Chase me, I thought, the words pounding in my head like a drumbeat. Come after me. Leave him alone.

  A surge of adrenaline propelled me into action. I turned and bolted toward the table, my breath ragged as I leapt onto its edge. My boots skidded against the polished wood, sending platters clattering to the floor. Grapes and bread scattered across the marble, wine splashing in vivid red arcs as goblets toppled and rolled.

  I didn’t look back. My only thought was to keep moving, to put as much distance as I could between him and Kilian. If I could just keep him chasing me, maybe Kilian would have a chance to escape.

  With a desperate burst of energy, I pushed off the table, vaulting over the spread and landing heavily on the other side. My knees buckled slightly, but I forced myself to keep moving, ignoring the startled gasp that escaped me.

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to see Voryn swipe Nyxbrand across the table in a wide arc. The flames consumed everything in their path, platters and goblets alike bursting into fiery shards. The heat was unbearable, the smell of scorched wood and food filling the air.

  I darted toward the far corner of the room, my eyes searching frantically for an escape. My chest burned with exertion, but I couldn’t stop—not with Voryn’s blade so close, its flames crackling like a living thing hungry for destruction.

  He lunged suddenly, Nyxbrand cutting a fiery arc toward me. I barely dodged in time, the heat searing my cheek as I rolled to the side. The blade struck the marble floor, sparks flying as the stone hissed and cracked under the intense heat.

  Suddenly, I wasn’t in the throne room anymore.

  I was back in Eldoria.

  The fire was everywhere, devouring everything in its path. The acrid stench of burning wood and flesh filled my nostrils, choking me, pulling me under. Flames licked at the walls of my home, curling around the bookshelves and turning precious tomes into ash. The air was thick with smoke, making it impossible to breathe. I could hear the screams—shrill and desperate—of the townsfolk as they tried to flee, their cries blending with the roar of the inferno.

  The worst part was the heat. It pressed against my skin, suffocating and relentless, as if the fire itself were alive, wrapping me in its scorching embrace.

  I staggered back, my pulse hammering in my ears. Voryn’s voice faded, his taunts drowned out by the echo of the past. My vision blurred, the flames on his sword merging with the vivid memory of Eldoria’s destruction. The image of my father flashed before me—his anguished face as the fire consumed our home, his desperate cries to run, to survive.

  The fire had taken everything.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. My body was frozen in place, trapped in a loop of memory and fear. My lungs burned as though I were back in that inferno, the phantom smoke clawing its way down my throat.

  "Kira!" someone shouted, but the voice was distant, distorted.

  Voryn’s laughter cut through the haze, sharp and cruel. "What’s the matter, Kira?" he sneered, his voice dragging me back to the present. "Still haunted by the flames? Don’t worry—I’ll make this quick. Your ashes will join the others."

  I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air as the flames seemed to close in around me. My heart thundered in my chest, a frantic rhythm that refused to calm. I forced myself to focus, to ground myself in the here and now.

  This isn’t Eldoria. This isn’t then. You’re not powerless anymore.

  But the fire. The fire was real, alive and hungry, just like before. My stomach churned as the memories tried to pull me under again, but I clenched my fists, forcing the panic down.

  "Kira, move!" someone yelled—Caleb, maybe—but it barely registered.

  Voryn advanced, his grin widening as he saw the fear in my eyes. "You’re pathetic," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "All that fire in your rebellion, and yet here you are, cowering before a real flame."

  "Kira!" Kass’s voice rang out, sharp and desperate, cutting through the chaos like a blade. My head snapped toward her, my heart lurching at the sight.

  Her body twisted violently against her captor’s hold, her face flushed with effort. "Let me go, you bastard!"

  The guard didn’t respond, his expression impassive beneath his helmet. He kept his grip firm, seemingly unfazed by her wild struggling. Kass, however, wasn’t about to give up. She kicked out viciously, her boot connecting with the guard’s shinplate with a loud clang.

  He grunted, barely shifting under the force of the blow. Kass snarled in frustration, her breaths coming in short, furious bursts. She kicked again, and again, her movements relentless despite the futility of it.

  "Kira, get out of here!" she yelled, twisting her body violently in an attempt to throw off the guard’s grip. "Run, damn it!"

  I gritted my teeth, the embers of defiance flickering back to life. Voryn wanted me to break. He wanted me to crumble under the weight of my fear, to give him the satisfaction of my surrender. But I wouldn’t let him. Not this time.

  I tightened my grip on the dagger in my hand, turning back to Voryn and forcing myself to hold his gaze. "Sounds like the sword’s doing all the work. What do you bring to the table?"

  The smirk faltered, replaced by a glint of annoyance. "You think you’re clever, girl? Let’s see how smart you feel when you’re nothing but cinders."

  He lunged without warning, Nyxbrand cutting a fiery arc toward me. I threw myself to the side, the flames licking at the air where I’d been standing moments before. The heat was suffocating, and I could feel the singed edges of my cloak smoldering as I scrambled to my feet.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "Running already?" Voryn sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Not so brave now, are we?"

  I wasn’t running. I was luring him further into my trap.

  My back hit the cool surface of a mirror. I darted away, positioning myself where the reflections multiplied. Voryn’s image was repeated in every direction, Nyxbrand’s flames mirrored a dozen times over.

  "Not running," I called, my voice echoing through the chamber. "Just giving you more targets to miss."

  "Coward," he growled, swinging at one of the reflections. The mirror shattered, shards cascading to the floor as Nyxbrand’s flames licked the wall behind it.

  But I wasn’t standing still. I weaved between the mirrors, letting my reflections confuse him, leading him toward the towering tapestries on the far side of the room. Each swing of his sword left destruction in its wake—broken glass, scorched marble, and rising heat—but his strikes never found me.

  The air burned in my lungs, but I didn’t dare slow down. Each step echoed through the chamber, the sound of my boots mingling with the relentless clang of Voryn’s heavy footfalls. His snarled curses followed me like shadows, but I pushed on, weaving through the chaos.

  "You can’t run forever, little bookseller!" he roared, Nyxbrand’s flames flickering at the edges of my vision.

  I didn’t answer. Words wouldn’t win this fight. He was strong, brutal, but I was faster. His heavy armor wasn’t built for chasing; it was made for overwhelming strength on the battlefield. This room, with its tight spaces and obstacles, was mine to use.

  I darted toward two narrow pillars ahead. The gap between them was tight, but just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I surged forward, ducking low and slipping through the space as rough stone scraped my arms.

  Behind me, Voryn skidded to a halt, slamming a gauntleted fist against one pillar. The cracks that spread across the stone told me just how furious he was. I glanced back briefly, watching as he was forced to go the long way around.

  "Getting tired?" I called, forcing a cocky edge into my voice despite the fire in my chest. He didn’t answer, but his labored movements and the tightness of his grip on Nyxbrand told me everything I needed to know.

  Keep him chasing. Wear him down.

  I sprinted through a maze of shattered stone and debris, deliberately choosing paths that slowed him further. When he finally appeared again, his steps were heavier, his swings more erratic.

  Voryn could be chased, taunted, tired. He wasn’t invincible. Not here.

  He swung wildly at another reflection, Nyxbrand cleaving through glass and leaving fire in its wake. His rage made him reckless, and that was my opening. With careful steps, I positioned myself in front of one of the largest tapestries, ensuring my reflection drew his focus.

  Voryn’s fiery gaze locked onto the image. He surged forward, Nyxbrand blazing.

  At the last second, I ducked behind the tapestry and grabbed its edge. With all my strength, I yanked it down. The massive fabric collapsed over him, its embroidered weight smothering him completely. He let out a muffled curse, his movements frantic as he tried to free himself.

  "Get off me!" he bellowed, thrashing beneath the heavy folds. Flames kept erupting from Nyxbrand, igniting the tapestry in an instant. Fire raced across the fabric, climbing higher and consuming it with terrifying speed.

  "Stay down, dog," I snarled.

  Voryn’s muffled curses turned to panicked screams as the fire spread, the heavy tapestry trapping him in a blazing prison. His thrashing only tangled him further, and the flames grew brighter, feeding on the fabric around him.

  The fire didn’t stop there. The heat from Nyxbrand spread to the surrounding tapestries, igniting one after another in a chain reaction. Smoke billowed upward, thick and acrid, filling the chamber with choking fumes.

  For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, the reactions came all at once.

  Caleb gasped audibly, his composure cracking as he watched the flames climb.

  Erin’s eyes widened, her icy expression melting into a rare look of shock. She didn’t speak, but her sharp intake of breath and the slight parting of her lips said enough.

  Kass, of course, was the loudest. "Hell yeah, Kira!" she shouted, her voice ringing with unrestrained pride. "The Dust Cloaks finally lived up to their name. Someone get a broom—looks like you’ll need to sweep up the ashes."

  Finn burst into laughter, clutching his side as he doubled over. Isaac stood a little straighter, his proud smile subtle but unmistakable.

  Elyse, leaning against a nearby column, watched with an amused smile curling at the edges of her lips. She caught my eye and raised her hand, signing quickly but clearly, That’s my girl.

  "Put it out!" one of the guards shouted, panic breaking their formation. Several of them rushed toward the flames, abandoning their posts as they fought to contain the blaze.

  Across the room, the king’s voice rose above the chaos, cold and commanding. "You fools! Forget the fire—stop them!"

  The guards hesitated for a moment, their focus split between the king’s orders and the chaos unfolding around them. Kass and Finn took advantage of the distraction, breaking free from their captors.

  My feet pounded against the polished stone floor, the slick surface threatening to send me sprawling at any moment. But I didn't dare slow down. Not with the king's enraged bellow echoing behind me and the clatter of approaching footsteps filling my ears.

  A flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was Elyse, her brow furrowed in concentration as she directed a tendril of white-hot flame towards Kass. The ropes binding her wrists dissolved with a hiss, replaced by a plume of acrid smoke. But Elyse, powerful as she was, remained trapped in her heavy iron shackles, a sitting duck if the guards reached her first.

  With a war cry that sent shivers down my spine, Kass launched herself at a hulking guard, her entire body weight a battering ram. The surprised grunt of the man was followed by the clatter of steel as his sword clattered to the ground. Kass didn't waste a second. She snatched up the fallen weapon.

  She disarmed another guard with a well-placed swipe of the stolen sword. Then she snatched Finn's knife and his belt pouch from the guard’s unconscious form.

  The leather pouch arced through the air, landing with a satisfying thud at Finn's feet. He scrambled to pick it up. He grunted with exertion, the polished metal of his knife catching the flickering torchlight. A moment later, with a sigh of relief, he sliced through the last strand of the rope around his wrists and tossed the knife back to its sheath in one smooth motion. The belt followed, the familiar weight settling reassuringly on his hips.

  He was back in the game.

  My lungs burned, each ragged gasp a desperate plea for oxygen. A glance behind revealed the king, his face contorted with rage, had snatched his fallen sword. He charged towards me, his snarl a feral promise of pain.

  But just as his blade blurred towards me, a figure erupted in front of me. Kass. My friend, ever the loyal shield, stood between me and the king's fury, her own sword raised in a defensive stance. The clang of metal on metal resonated through the chamber, deafening in its intensity. The force of the king's blow sent Kass staggering back a step, her face etched with a grimace of exertion. Yet, she held her ground, the point of her blade unwavering.

  In that moment, I felt a surge of profound gratitude. Kass had stepped between me and certain death without hesitation. The king might be a seasoned fighter, but Kass, with her unwavering determination and brute strength, was a formidable opponent.

  The sharp hiss of steam filled the chamber as the guards dumped bucket after bucket of water onto Kael Voryn’s charred form. The tapestry that had engulfed him was little more than a sodden heap of blackened fabric, still smoldering as smoke coiled upward in ghostly tendrils. The Captain of the Dusk Cloaks lay motionless, his dark armor warped and cracked from the heat. His sword lay a few feet away, its flames extinguished but the blade still glowing faintly red.

  But the room was far from safe. The remaining tapestries still burned, their flames climbing higher with each passing moment. Embers rained down like fiery snowflakes, and the air was thick with smoke. One of the massive wooden beams supporting the ceiling groaned ominously, cracking under the relentless heat.

  Through the thick haze, I caught a glimpse of the king, his face twisted in a mask of rage and frustration. His voice cut through the din like a whip. "Idiots! Stop them or you will join your Captain on the pyre!"

  The room became a whirlwind of desperate movement, the clatter of steel meeting steel echoing through the chamber.

  Finally, I turned towards my brother. "Are you alright?" I gasped, my voice thick with adrenaline and concern.

  His eyes, wide with shock, flickered between me and the fallen guard. He tried to move, but the restraints held him back, his bound hands shaking slightly.

  Without a second thought, I reached toward the gag wrapped tightly around his mouth. With a sharp, desperate motion, I cut through the cloth. The gag fell away, and Kilian sucked in a ragged breath, wincing as if the simple act of breathing had become an effort. He blinked up at me, his lips curling, though his eyes still held that same edge of concern.

  "Who are you, and what happened to my sister?"

  I paused, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. "Kilian, seriously, now? We’re in the middle of a royal execution, and you're going for sarcasm?"

  His lips twitched into the faintest of grins. He glanced at my bloodied clothes, his voice turning dry. "I swear you used to be less... stabby."

  I couldn’t help but smirk at him. "You’d be amazed what a few months of running from the law will do to a person."

  Kilian shook his head, more to himself than anything. "This is just great," he muttered, half in wonder, half in exasperation. "I get captured, tortured, and then I come back to find my sister leading a rebellion." He looked around at the chaos, the battle raging around us, then at me with a raised brow. "What exactly is it that you do now? Kill people? Start fires?"

  "It's a work in progress," I shot back.

  He didn’t have time to respond before Finn’s lockpick finally clicked and the shackles fell away with a clang.

  Kilian flexed his wrists, rubbing the circulation back into them, but his eyes never left me. "I assume you’ve got a plan, or are we just winging it at this point?"

  "We’re winging it," I said, my voice firmer now, rallying as the adrenaline surged back into my body.

  I quickly grabbed a sword from a fallen guard and handed it to him. He tested its weight and gave me a look that was half panicked, half bemused. He blinked, his eyes shifting from the sword to me, then back again. "You realize I’ve never actually held a sword in my life, right?" he muttered, his gaze briefly flitting over the chaos around us.

  "Yeah, well," I said, my grin widening, "guess you’ll just have to fake it." I couldn’t help but smile. "You swing it. Try not to cut off your own foot."