Alone now, Kana stepped forward. The threshold shimmered faintly with ancestral magic. She took one steadying breath and crossed it…into the Corridor of Ancestors.

The air changed immediately, thicker, warmer, heavy with the scent of burning sage. Smoke curled lazily from brass censers placed at intervals along the stone floor, their delicate tendrils rising toward the vaulted ceiling like prayers made visible.

The corridor stretched before her like a bridge carved into the mountainside itself, connecting the western palace chambers to the queen's private quarters on the eastern face. Windows lined both sides, tall, narrow openings that framed the world beyond. On her left, the last light of day painted the snow-covered peaks in shades of rose and amber. On her right, darkness was already claiming the valley below, stars beginning to pierce through the deepening blue.

Between each window hung portraits.

Dozens of them. Generations of her grandmothers stared down with eyes that seemed to track her movement. Each portrait bore a brass plaque beneath it: names, birth years, death years, histories reduced to numbers and faces. Interspersed among the Ethereals were other members of the royal family and distinguished members of the Mbaya'Wolé, their painted faces solemn and watchful.

Kana's footsteps echoed against the polished stone as she walked deeper into the corridor. The wind outside pressed against the windows, a low, persistent moan that made the glass tremble. 

The temperature was warm. Yet beneath that warmth crept something else: a coldness that had nothing to do with the mountain air. It settled on her shoulders like invisible hands, pressing down with the weight of expectation of all the women who had stood where she stood. Kana stopped before one portrait in particular.

Narobei.

The First Ethereal. The woman who had led them here. The woman whose choices had shaped everything that followed.

The way she was portrayed captured her serene, devastating awareness of her own power. The curve of her shoulders spoke of elegance. Her skin shimmered like dark bronze brushed with sunlight, and her long black hair, streaked faintly with silver as if touched by frost, flowed over her shoulders in loose ceremonial braids.

But it was her eyes that held Kana captive.

Kana's pulse throbbed in her throat. She wanted to look away, to move past this portrait as she had dozens of times before, but tonight, something held her. A pressure. A pull. Like Narobei's painted gaze had hooked into her chest and refused to let go

Pale, otherworldly blue, the same shade Kana saw in her own reflection, they did not merely look; they measured. They carried the weight of choices too heavy for any mortal heart. Around the edges of the portrait, the air felt alive, humming faintly with restrained Àse, as if the woman herself had bled power into the paint.

Kana stared harder. Beneath Narobei's calm expression lived something fierce, a storm chained by discipline. There was no warmth in her gaze, only conviction. The dangerous, luminous kind that bends destinies and breaks them just as easily.

"She frightens you."

Kana jumped, spinning to find her mother standing a few paces behind her.

Queen Kanaé was the kind of woman whose presence filled a room before her voice ever did. Kana was surprised to see her. Her beauty carried the quiet authority of lineage, deep brown skin luminous as polished mahogany, eyes a piercing ice-blue that shimmered like light beneath a frozen lake. Long black locs framed her face in neat, elegant rows, threaded with thin strands of silver that caught the lamplight.

When she looked at Kana, her gaze held the weight of both love and something unyielding, the burden of mothers who must prepare their daughters for crowns too heavy to bear.

She moved with grace shaped by discipline, her robes of white, sapphire, and silver trailing behind her like rivers of frost.

"Mother," Kana said, straightening automatically. "I didn't hear you approach."

"Because you were listening to her instead." Queen Kanaé stepped beside her daughter, her gaze rising to meet Narobei's painted eyes. "She has that effect. Even in death, she demands attention."

Kana said nothing. The anxious flutter in her chest, the one that had plagued her all day, intensified beneath Narobei's stare.

Her mother's hand settled gently on her shoulder. "Come. Walk with me."

She guided Kana forward, their footsteps falling into rhythm as they moved through the corridor. They passed more portraits,stern-faced queens, legendary warriors of the Mbaya'Wolé, ancestral mothers whose names were now prayers whispered in ceremonies.

The corridor ended at an ornate door carved with wolves and snowwood trees, their forms so lifelike they seemed to shift in the lamplight.

Queen Kanaé pushed it open, and they entered her private quarters.

The queen's chambers were unlike anywhere else in the palace. Where the rest of Eshari favored stark stone and minimal decoration, these rooms breathed with life. Tapestries hung along the walls, scenes of the great migration, the first winter, the binding of wolves. Furs were piled on a low platform bed, and braziers burned with sweet-smelling wood. Shelves held books bound in leather, jars of dried herbs, and small carved figurines of spirits. Vibrant green plants thrived in beautifully crafted pottery, each one adding a touch of elegance and life to the space. But what drew Kana's attention was the vanity.

It sat near the eastern window, positioned to catch both sunrise and moonlight. The mirror was framed in carved blackened wood, and the table before it held an array of combs, oils, beads, and ceremonial paints. This was where queens prepared themselves, not just their hair and faces, but their spirits, their resolve, their masks.

"Sit," her mother said gently, gesturing to the cushioned chair.

Kana obeyed, lowering herself onto the seat. Her mother moved behind her, nimble fingers beginning to work through Kana's braids with practiced ease. The beads clinked softly as they were removed one by one.

For a moment, neither spoke. Just the wind against the window and her mother's steady hands.

"You're thinking too loud," her mother said finally.

Kana's lips twitched despite herself. "I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to." Her mother's fingers paused at the base of her skull, working gently at the tension there. "I played in your hair since you were three days old. You think I don't know when something's on your mind?"

Kana stared at their reflections in the mirror... her mother's hands moving with such certainty, her own face tight with worry she couldn't quite hide.

"What if I disappoint them?" The words came out quieter than she intended.

Her mother's hands stilled. "Them?"

"The grandmothers. The ancestors." Kana swallowed hard. "What if they show me things tomorrow and I... what if I'm not ready?"

"Kana." Her mother's voice was soft. "Look at me."

Kana met her mother's eyes in the mirror.

"The Vestige Ceremony isn't a test," Queen Kanaé said. "It's a conversation. The ancestors don't judge, they guide."

"But what if they don't like what they see in me?"

Her mother was quiet for a moment, resuming her work on Kana's hair. When she spoke again, her voice carried a different weight, the weight of memory.

"When I went through the ceremony, I was terrified." She smiled faintly. "I tried to hide it, of course. Stood there with my chin up, shoulders back, the perfect future queen. But inside?" She shook her head. "Inside, I was a mess."

Kana blinked. She'd never heard her mother admit to fear before.

"What happened?"

"I fell into empty space. Weightless. And then the voices came, so many of them, layered like wind through trees." Her mother's fingers moved rhythmically, almost meditative. "They told me stories. Showed me moments I'd never lived but somehow remembered."

"What did they say?"

"They showed me Narobei making her choice to leave. They showed me my grandmother's struggles, all the times she thought she'd lost everything but kept going anyway." Her mother secured a braid with a silver bead. "They taught me how to speak to the elemental spirits. Not as something I controlled, but as kin."

Kana felt her chest tighten. "Is that when Narobei spoke to you?"

Her mother's hands stilled completely. For a moment, Kana thought she wouldn't answer.

"Yes," she said finally. "At the very end. Her voice wasn't warm, but it wasn't cruel either. It was just... final. Written in stone like an omen"

"What did she say?"

Her mother resumed braiding, but Kana could see the tension in her shoulders.

"She said, 'Your child will carry fire I could never hold.'" Queen Kanaé's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And then she said, 'The blood moon will rise again. When it does, let her choose.'"

Kana's breath caught. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know, ti cheri." Her mother's fingers trembled, just slightly, before she steadied them. "But Narobei doesn't speak for no reason."

Kana looked away, staring at her reflection. Behind her, through the window, the moon was rising, bright and full and beautiful. Nothing like the crimson eye she'd seen in her vision.

"The ice spirit frightens me," she admitted suddenly. "Fire listens. Wind plays. But ice..." She swallowed hard. "Ice feels like it's waiting for me to slip. Like one wrong move and I'll lose control completely."

As if summoned by her words, frost webbed across the vanity mirror, delicate fractals spreading from where her breath touched the glass.

Kana jerked back, heart hammering. "I didn't mean to..."

Her mother's hand settled over hers, warm and steady. "Breathe, ti cheri. Let it pass."

Slowly, the frost melted. Kana's shoulders sagged.

"You see?" she whispered. "I can't control it."

"You're not supposed to control it." Her mother's voice was gentle. "Ice isn't something you command, Kana. It's something you understand. Tomorrow, the ancestors will teach you that. Not through words, through knowing."

Kana's throat tightened. "What if they show me something I don't want to see?"

Her mother was quiet for a long moment. Her fingers worked through the final braid, securing it with a silver bead. When she stepped back, Kana's hair was perfect, elegant and neat, every piece in place.

But when Kana met her mother's eyes in the mirror, she saw something there that made her chest ache. Concern. Pride. And underneath it all, a shadow of something unspoken.

"Then you'll have to decide," her mother said softly, "whether to turn away, or to look closer."

She placed both hands on Kana's shoulders. "The ceremony will show you truth, ti cheri. And truth is rarely comfortable. But it's always necessary."

Kana rose slowly. She turned and embraced her mother, a long, tight embrace that felt like trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

When they finally pulled apart, her mother cupped her face gently. "Whatever the ancestors show you tomorrow, remember this: You are loved. Not for what you might become, but for who you are right now."

Kana nodded, not trusting her voice.

She turned toward the door, but before she reached it, she paused.

"Mother... the blood moon. When will it rise?"

Queen Kanaé's expression softened. "Soon. The elders are tracking the cycles. It's been years since the last one."

Kana nodded slowly. The blood moon was sacred, a time when the elemental spirits rested and recharged, when mages couldn't channel Àse. Most people looked forward to it. Festivals. Rest. A break from duty.

But something about the vision she'd had, the moon pulsing red like a great eye, hadn't felt sacred. It had felt... wrong.

"You'll be there for it, won't you?" Kana asked. "For the festival?"

"Of course." Her mother smiled warmly. "We'll celebrate together. The whole city will."

Kana wanted to mention the vision, the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest. But how could she explain that something meant to be holy had felt like a warning?

So instead, she smiled back. "I'm looking forward to it."

Her mother stepped forward, pressing a kiss to Kana's forehead. "Get some rest, ti cheri. Tomorrow, the ancestors will show you who you're meant to become."

Kana embraced her mother one last time, then stepped into the corridor.

As the door closed behind her, she straightened her shoulders. The anxious flutter that had plagued her all day was still there, but it had shifted into something else.

Readiness.

Tomorrow, she would speak with her grandmothers. Tomorrow, she would learn how to truly understand the elemental spirits, not fight them, not fear them, but speak to them as kin.

Tomorrow, she would prove she was worthy of the legacy she'd been born into.

The portraits watched her pass, but this time, Kana didn't look away. She met their painted gazes, Narobei's especially, with her chin high and her stride steady.

She was Kana Nambiri. Daughter of Queen Kanaé. Descendant of the First Ethereal.

And she was ready.

Behind her, the wind howled against the windows.

But Kana didn't hear it as a warning anymore.

She heard it as a promise.