The moon rose high, casting silver veins across the polished floors of Elyndor's palace. Raen sat in his chamber, surrounded by darkness—not the absence of light, but something else. Something watching.
He had not slept since Kael's appearance.
Visions plagued him—memories bleeding through from a life that wasn't supposed to exist anymore. He remembered riding into battle on a steed of black fire. He remembered laughing with a brother who now wore a crown soaked in blood. He remembered the smell of betrayal—how it clung to Kael like a second skin.
But most of all, he remembered power. What it meant to wield it. What it cost to lose it.
Now, even in his boyish frame, he could feel the fire beneath his skin, coiling like a serpent.
He no longer feared it.
He had become it.
In the middle of the night, a cloaked figure entered his chamber through a secret panel in the wall. Not a threat—an ally.
Her name was Lirien. A palace servant by day. A spy by blood.
"There's a gathering in the lower city," she whispered. "People who still worship the old flame. They say your return is written in their books of ash."
Raen met her gaze. "Take me to them."
"No guards. No protection. Are you mad?"
"I am reborn. And I will not be caged."
With only the clothes on his back and the mark of fire pulsing beneath his collarbone, Raen slipped through the shadows with Lirien, leaving behind the safety of his golden prison—and walking straight into the city that had forgotten its prince.