She Chose the Wrong Hero

Elira

The reports came quietly.

A boy in the south had woken screaming. He spoke of fire in his sleep. Of a tower that wasn't real—four spires, one broken, and a sun that bled light like a wound. His mother tried to hush him, but when she wiped the drawing he made in the dirt, her fingers blistered.

Then came the others.

Six more in the same day.

Different towns.

Same vision.

None of them knew each other. But they all drew the same image.

A tower of fire.

---

Elira stared at the map spread across the table.

Each sighting had been marked with a charcoal dot. Alone, they meant nothing. But together, they began to curve. A shape forming—a circle.

Aeren stood beside her. He traced the curve with two fingers. "This isn't new. The pattern. I've seen it before."

"Where?" she asked.

"In a history that doesn't want to be remembered."

Elira didn't flinch. She had stopped flinching when Aeren said things like that.

Their lives were made of forgotten things now.

---

They left before dawn.

No banners. No soldiers. Just the two of them and the road south, following the marks like pieces of a broken trail.

Elira didn't sleep that night. She didn't try. Every time she closed her eyes, the same fire rose behind them. The crimson book. The words that had burned themselves into the page.

"The Second Flame is lit."

"Virein stirs."

She didn't know what Virein was.

But she knew Kael had found it.

---

The village near the southern pass was quiet when they arrived.

No birds. No wind. Just the heavy stillness of a place that had already seen something it couldn't name.

A healer met them at the edge of the square. Young. Pale. Her hands were stained with ash.

"You're Elira," she said softly. "One of the children… he said you would come."

Elira stiffened. "He dreamed of me?"

The woman nodded. "Said you stood in fire. That you weren't afraid."

Elira exchanged a look with Aeren. His expression gave nothing away, but she felt the sharp shift in the air between them.

It was happening again.

But not the same way.

Not this time.

---

They spoke to three of the children.

Each told the same story.

A tower burning.

A golden-eyed man opening a door.

And Elira—standing in the flames, not burning, not running.

Just waiting.

---

The sun had already started to fall when they left the village.

The world felt softer beneath the weight of what they'd heard, but heavier too—like it had finally realized the fire wasn't going away.

As they crossed the hills on foot, Aeren spoke.

"I think the seals are speaking now."

Elira looked at him.

"Through dreams?"

"Through anyone who's still listening."

She said nothing.

But deep down, she knew he was right.

Kael had lit something he didn't understand.

And now it was reaching out to everyone.

---

That night, they camped by a narrow stream. The water was too quiet. Even the crickets had gone still.

Elira sat by the fire, arms wrapped around her knees. She stared at the flames until they blurred, not sure whether she was awake or drifting.

Across from her, Aeren leaned back against a tree, silent.

Then, his voice came—quiet.

"Do you still love him?"

The question didn't hurt.

It just landed somewhere deep.

She didn't look up.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I still feel him. Like something unfinished."

Aeren didn't press her.

He only nodded.

She was grateful for that.

Because the truth sat inside her like an open page.

You could love someone.

You could hate what they became.

And you could still ache for the person they were.

---

Elira dreamed again that night.

This time, she stood alone.

A tower burned behind her.

The sky was red.

Ash fell like snow.

And Kael stood at the center of it all.

His eyes were not gold anymore.

They were something deeper.

Like fire that had learned how to wait.

He reached for her.

And said, "I'm building you a kingdom that will never burn."

She didn't move.

But her hand trembled.

And when she woke—

The fire had gone out.

And the ground beneath her was warm.