The storm clawed at the temple walls, but Anaya barely heard it. Mira’s words- promised, oath, betrayal; spun in her skull until the rune on her skin seared hot. Pain lanced through her veins, dragging her into visions she could not fight.

Her past.

Their past.

The truth the Council never wanted her to see.

The House of Flame- Anaya’s Bloodline

Anaya was small again, running through the rose gardens of the royal palace. The torches flickered in reverence as servants bowed low. She was the daughter of Lord Kael of the House of Flame, keeper of fire-magic and one of the Twelve ruling clans sworn to the Council.

But Anaya’s fire was supposed to remain dormant. She was raised to be a symbol, not a warrior. A princess bound to duty, meant to marry into another clan to strengthen alliances.

And yet she remembered the night her world broke. Guards dragged her mother away, screaming, cloaked in the Council’s colors. Her father’s voice was stone when he told her:

Kael: “She is gone. Do not speak of her again. The Council knows what is best.”

Her mother, High Lady Elen had been Flame’s most gifted wielder. Rumours whispered she defied the Council, that she’d tried to shield her daughter from their control. And for that, she was erased.

The House of Shadow- Mira’s Bloodline

The memory shifted. A darker hall, carved in obsidian. Mira stood beside her father, High Inquisitor Serak of the House of Shadow. His clan was the Council’s blade- masters of deception, interrogation, and binding rituals. Shadows bent to his command.

From the beginning, Mira was raised not as a daughter, but as an heir to cruelty. Where Anaya was taught diplomacy and grace, Mira was taught knives and silence.

Anaya remembered nights where Mira crept into her room, whispering that they’d run away someday, leave behind their golden cages. They had laughed, sworn sisterhood in candlelight.

But beneath Mira’s smile, there had always been hunger. A longing not just to belong, but to conquer.

The House of Storm- Riyan’s Bloodline

And then came Riyan.

The vision swirled to the storm-lit hall of the Council. A boy with chains around his wrists, lightning sparking faintly at his fingertips. He was the bastard son of Lord Darius of the House of Storm, a bloodline cursed to wield both lightning and chaos.

Storm-bloods were rebels by nature, untamed, unpredictable. The Council kept them leashed- using oaths, arranged bonds, forced marriages to dilute their power.

Anaya saw it- Riyan, kneeling, his head bowed as Serak’s voice echoed through the chamber.

Serak: “You will bind with my daughter. Storm and Shadow. A union written in the Council’s will.”

Riyan’s eyes burned with fury, but he said nothing. Chains crackled when he clenched his fists.

And from the shadows- Mira watched. Silent. Smiling.

Anaya, suddenly remembered all of the pain she was hiding beneath. She gasped, stumbling back into the ruined temple, her breath ragged. Riyan caught her, but her eyes no longer held blind trust. They burned with accusation.

Anaya (hoarse, trembling): “You never told me. That they forced you to Mira. That my mother… was taken because of me.”

Mira (voice sharp, venomous): “Taken because she was weak. Because she defied them. And you? You’re walking her same foolish path.”

Riyan (snarling): “No. Taken because she dared to love beyond their chains.”

Mira’s dagger glinted in the torchlight, her voice dropping to a hiss.

Mira: “And you’ll share her fate. Unless the ritual binds you where you belong. To me.”

The storm outside roared louder, lightning splitting the sky. The gods themselves seemed to demand a reckoning.

Three clans.

Three heirs.

Bound by oaths, betrayal, and forbidden fire.

And Anaya, caught between them, finally understood... her love wasn’t just dangerous.

It was war.