Chapter 3 — The Shard of Dusk

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“The truth of a kingdom is never written in its history, but buried beneath the silence of those who remember.”

The palace smelled of smoke and iron.

Long after the last ember had died, the scent lingered — heavy, stubborn, clinging to every stone of the Citadel. The servants moved in quiet panic, cleaning the ashes that had once been golden draperies and priceless banners, their eyes flicking toward the great hall where the royal family had gathered.

Seraphine stood near one of the tall windows, her reflection fractured by the cracks that spiderwebbed the glass. The morning light painted her hair silver-gold, and yet her eyes — once bright and amber like her father’s — shimmered with a faint ring of pale light.

She touched her wrist where the shard’s warmth still pulsed faintly under her skin.

The flame remembers…

The voice echoed in her mind, distant and haunting. Kael’s voice.

❈ The Hall of Wounds

“Seraphine.”

Her mother’s voice cut through the silence, steady as steel.
Empress Elisana stood before the long council table, surrounded by generals and scholars. Her face was calm, but Seraphine could see the exhaustion in her mother’s eyes — the same eyes that once ruled the battlefield and now bore the weight of an entire empire’s survival.

Beside her stood her father, Emperor Marcus, his hand resting on the pommel of the ceremonial sword — the Sunblade. He had aged gracefully, though faint silver streaks ran through his once-dark hair. His presence still filled the hall, steady and commanding, but his gaze softened when it found his daughter.

“You were found unconscious in the courtyard,” Elisana continued. “Your guards say you vanished for minutes, perhaps longer. Tell me everything you remember.”

Seraphine hesitated. She could tell them the truth — the mirror, the boy named Kael, the strange world of black stone and drifting stars. But how could she explain something that even she didn’t understand?

“I…” she began slowly, “I saw light. And then shadows. It was as if the world turned inside out. When I woke, the mirror was gone.”

Elisana’s eyes sharpened. “The mirror?”

“Yes,” Seraphine said, glancing between them. “It wasn’t an ordinary mirror. It was—alive.”

A heavy silence filled the hall.

One of the scholars shifted uneasily. “Your Majesty, could this be connected to the Elarion Artifacts? The ones sealed after—”

“Enough,” Elisana said softly, but her tone silenced him like a blade drawn. “We do not speak of that in her presence.”

Seraphine frowned. “In my presence? Why? What does it have to do with me?”

Marcus stepped forward before his wife could answer. “Because you are not ready, my Starling.”

She met his gaze, frustration flaring. “Not ready for what?”

Marcus reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Some truths are wounds that heal only when the time is right. And some names… awaken things that should sleep.”

❈ The Forbidden Wing

That night, sleep refused to come.

Seraphine wandered the palace corridors, her bare feet silent against the mosaic floors. The moonlight stretched through tall windows like silver ribbons, and the echoes of her parents’ voices lingered in her mind.

Some truths are wounds.

But she had already been wounded — not by truth, but by silence.

Her steps led her deeper, past the grand staircase and into the west wing, where ancient portraits lined the walls. Generations of Salastian rulers stared down at her, their eyes painted with the same golden hue she had inherited.

At the end of the corridor stood a door she had never entered before — sealed by black iron and engraved with a single sigil: a sun half-devoured by shadow.

Her pulse quickened. She had seen that mark before.
On Kael’s wrist.

The shard in her hand pulsed once, faintly glowing. The iron seal trembled — and unlocked with a sound like a sigh.

Seraphine hesitated only a moment before pushing the door open.

❈ The Chamber of Records

The room beyond was vast and cold. Dust floated through the air like faint ghosts. Ancient tomes filled shelves that reached toward the ceiling, and the floor was carved with a circular pattern — the same sigil from the door, drawn in silver and gold.

In the center stood a single mirror.

Her breath caught.

It was smaller than the one from before, framed in obsidian, its surface veiled in darkness. But even covered, she could feel it — the same hum beneath her skin, like a heartbeat echoing in her bones.

She reached for the cloth draped over it.

“Seraphine.”

The voice came from the shadows.

She spun, heart pounding.

Her mother stood by the doorway, a single candle in her hand. The flame reflected in her eyes — not anger, but sorrow.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Elisana said softly.

Seraphine clenched her fists. “You’ve kept something from me. Both of you have.”

Elisana’s gaze dropped to the mirror. “You are not wrong.”

“Then tell me,” Seraphine pleaded. “What am I? Why did the mirror call me Elarion?”

Elisana froze.

For the first time, true fear flickered across the Empress’s face.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“In the fire. In the mirror world. A boy said it—Kael.”

Elisana’s candle wavered. The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush.

After a long moment, she stepped forward, her voice trembling despite her composure. “Elarion is not a name. It is a title. It means the flame reborn.”

Seraphine’s breath hitched. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Elisana said, meeting her daughter’s eyes, “that your blood carries the power that ended the First Empire. And if it awakens again… it will end this one too.”

❈ The Mother’s Warning

Elisana moved closer, placing a trembling hand on her daughter’s cheek. “Your father and I swore to seal that power. The Elarion Flame is both creation and destruction — it remembers all that once was, and it hungers for all that could be. You must never let it answer when it calls.”

“But it already has,” Seraphine whispered. “I felt it.”

Elisana’s eyes softened with both pride and terror. “Then the time we feared has come.”

She reached into her cloak and drew out a pendant — a small silver disk engraved with the royal sigil and the ancient Salastian rune for truth.

“Take this,” she said, fastening it around Seraphine’s neck. “It will bind the flame for a while. But it will not last forever.”

“What happens when it fails?”

Elisana hesitated, her voice breaking for the first time in years.
“Then you must choose, my child — between what you love, and what you are.”

❈ The Stars Remember

When her mother left, Seraphine lingered in the chamber. The mirror’s surface had begun to shimmer faintly beneath its covering, as though listening.

She touched the pendant at her throat, its cool metal throbbing in rhythm with her pulse. The warmth in her wrist flared once — the shard beneath her skin reacting, alive.

And through the faint hum of silence, she heard him again.

—Do you understand now?

Kael’s voice.
Soft. Close.

She looked up. The mirror’s reflection wavered — and for a heartbeat, she saw him there. Standing in that starless world, eyes solemn, hand pressed to the glass.

—The flame was never yours to seal, he whispered. It was only sleeping.

Then the reflection shattered into ripples, leaving her alone with the echo of his words and the distant crack of thunder beyond the mountains.