The Villainess Must Die... Again?

"Crowns are not given. They are taken. But the weight is never optional."

—Seraphina Von Aurelian, First Flameborne Queen of the Reclaimed Throne

The first day I sat on the throne, the air felt heavy.

It wasn't the weight of the crown it still hadn't been forged anew.

It was the weight of eyes.

Every noble, general, and court viper filled the chamber, pretending to kneel but calculating every breath I took.

I was no longer the villainess. No longer the flameborn heretic. I was Queen.

But power, I was quickly learning, didn't silence enemies.

It made them quieter.

More patient.

More venomous.

Kael stood at my right, armor gleaming beneath a dark crimson cloak that now bore my sigil: a phoenix rising from shattered stone.

General Alric stood to my left old, fierce, and watching the court like a hawk. He had supported me publicly after the duel, though I suspected it was more out of fear than faith.

"Announce your decree, Your Majesty," he said in a gravel coated voice.

I stood.

Let them listen.

Let them choke.

"By flame, I rise. By oath, I rule. Let the records show that I, Seraphina Von Aurelian, am the rightful sovereign flameborn of the Empire of Aurelian. Effective immediately, the throne is reclaimed. The old crown is broken."

I paused. And then:

"And the Flame Council is disbanded."

The chamber erupted.

"Your Majesty, you cannot disband the Council!" Lord Maric sputtered, rising without permission.

"I just did."

He paled. "But the Council has governed for two centuries. It is the stabilizing force of the court."

I stared him down. "No. It's a den of parasites who profited off a puppet emperor. Its time is over."

General Alric coughed discreetly.

"The nobles won't support this."

"They don't have to," I replied. "They'll obey."

Cardinal Dorne my distant cousin and one of the few who had remained neutral bowed slightly.

"Then what replaces the Council?"

I smiled coldly.

"Me."

By noon, three nobles had sent secret envoys threatening withdrawal of support unless I reinstated their titles. One ambassador stormed from the palace. Another tried to bribe my scribe.

Kael intercepted a forged decree designed to provoke the border provinces into rebellion.

"You were right," he said quietly as he handed it over. "The court wants a flame they can control. Not one that burns them."

I sighed. "Then we burn everything they cling to. And rebuild."

He watched me for a long moment.

"You're doing it," he said. "Becoming a queen."

I looked at the letter. The seal was that of the House of Virelion.

"Not yet," I said. "Not until I deal with this."

The letter came sealed in red wax with Kael's ancestral crest, but it wasn't from him.

It was from Adrian Virelion Kael's older brother, presumed dead during the Fire Wars.

I read the message again.

"The Gate has not closed. It has simply changed forms. You believe the impostor was your shadow but the real one walks still. And it's not you."

"Come alone. Or everything you built will burn again."

He had written it in flame language something only those trained in Phoenix combat units could write.

Kael's face turned pale when I showed him.

"He's supposed to be dead," he said hoarsely.

I nodded. "He's not."

"And if he's alive… and trained… and speaking of the Gate…"

Kael finished the thought aloud.

"Then there may be a third."

The idea haunted me.

A soul can split once and form an echo.

But if the Gate had fractured again… if the imbalance had deepened…

Then the flame inside me may have seeded more than one vessel.

And if this "third" had both knowledge of the Gate and the blood of flameborn families…

He might be worse than the impostor.

Kael grabbed his sword.

"I'm going with you."

"No," I said firmly. "He asked for me. Alone."

"You don't owe him—"

"I don't. But I owe the Empire peace."

He looked away.

"Just promise you'll come back."

I didn't answer.

Because I couldn't.

I arrived at the ruins of a watchtower on the southern cliffs at dawn. Mist wrapped the stones in soft fingers, blurring shapes and hiding truths.

Inside, the air reeked of old fire and burnt magic.

Adrian stood at the center, cloaked in silver-black flameweave, his back to me.

He didn't turn as I entered.

"You brought no guards," he said.

"No need."

He turned.

He had Kael's face.

But none of Kael's light.

"Do you know what happens to a soul too damaged to return?" he asked.

"I lived it."

He laughed. "No. You survived it. I became it."

I saw it then. His rune. A twisted red-black spiral that pulsed erratically across his chest.

"You're not just a third," I whispered. "You're something else."

"I'm the echo of the Gate itself."

He explained it in pieces.

The night the Gate cracked, he had been injured in a border raid. Left to die. His soul should've passed.

But something pulled it back.

Something ancient.

Something aware.

"The Gate didn't just open a door," he said. "It created a vessel. Me."

"You're a construct," I said, sick.

"No. I'm a reminder. That the Gate does not forget. That the price was never paid."

He lifted his hand, and a spark of corrupted flame spun into a sigil in the air.

"I don't want your throne," he said. "I want your choice."

I stared. "What choice?"

"Sacrifice your flame and seal the Gate forever. Or keep it… and doom the world to bleed."

It was the choice I had feared since the first time I heard the whispers in the rune.

Sacrifice my magic.

Or lose everything.

"I can't make that choice alone," I whispered.

Adrian stepped forward.

"You already are."

He handed me a dagger its blade laced with Gate-metal. Living. Humming.

"Stab your rune. Let it bleed out. Or let it spread."

I held it in my hand.

The rune pulsed.

Images flashed in my mind:

Kael burning his magic to save me.

The impostor fading in the snow.

The Emperor kneeling.

The child on the street who whispered, "She's real."

I looked at Adrian.

"No."

He tilted his head.

"I won't give up my flame," I said. "But I'll change what it means."

Adrian lunged.

The dagger meant for my rune now turned against me.

We fought in silence, flame crashing against corrupted light.

His strikes were brutal trained, methodical. Kael would've admired them.

But I was fighting for something more.

I didn't want a world without flame.

I wanted one where it could heal.

He landed a slash across my side.

I staggered then spun, thrusting my arm forward.

My palm met his chest.

I ignited.

Not to kill.

To purify.

White flame engulfed his rune.

He screamed then fell.

The blade clattered.

The runes on the walls stilled.

And the Gate in the distance… pulsed once.

And went still.

I returned to the palace before sunrise.

Kael waited at the gates, eyes wild with relief and rage.

"You're bleeding."

"I'm not dead."

"Close."

I smiled, then sagged into his arms.

Hours later, once my wounds were bound and the court had gathered again, I rose from the throne and addressed them.

"I make my first official decree as sovereign flameborn of this Empire."

The room held its breath.

"From this day forward, no soul may be created or split in the Gate's name again."

"All research into soul-fracture, flameborne echoes, and Gateblood is hereby declared a crime of treason."

"And I, Seraphina Von Aurelian, will personally enforce this law."

The nobles watched.

And for the first time in years

They feared their Queen.

Not because of what I might do.

But because of what I had already survived.