CHAPTER 42: Eira the Fireborn

Liam strode through the grand corridors of the palace, his footsteps sharp, measured, purposeful—yet his mind was anything but steady.

The advisor’s words echoed in his head.

Fireborn. Future queen. His bride.

It was all wrong.

Why had the royal court decided this without consulting him?

His jaw tightened as he reached the throne room, the doors swinging open with a weighty finality.

The king and queen sat upon their respective seats, their expressions unreadable as they observed his entrance.

The advisor stood nearby, clearly pleased with himself.

Liam wasted no time.

“You named her my future bride without consulting me?” His voice was cold, demanding, filled with an edge of betrayal.

The queen sighed, her fingers grazing the armrest of her throne. “It is what was foretold.”

The king’s gaze was calculating, sharp with something deeper beneath his composed demeanor. “The Fireborn must be beside you when the time comes, Liam. You know this.”

Liam exhaled sharply, battling the frustration clawing at his chest.

“How can you be certain she is the Fireborn?”

The advisor chuckled, stepping forward slightly. “Are you questioning fate?”

Liam’s fists clenched, his patience thinning.

He wasn’t blind.

Something was happening, something he couldn’t explain, but forcing a stranger into this role—without knowing the truth—

It wasn’t right.

And it wasn’t his choice to make.

He swallowed down his rage, his voice lowering dangerously.

“She does not belong to me.”

The queen’s gaze softened slightly, but the king remained resolute.

“She does now.”

Liam’s fists remained clenched, his jaw tightening as he battled the frustration threatening to overtake him.

His future was being decided without his consent.

Eira—the Fireborn—his supposed bride.

But she was a stranger.

A name on a prophecy.

A fate written without his voice.

He exhaled sharply, straightening his posture before turning to the king and queen.

“I want to meet her.”

The queen’s eyebrows lifted slightly, surprised by the demand.

The king remained still, unreadable. “You will meet her at the wedding.”

Liam’s patience fractured further.

“That’s not good enough.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge of steel beneath it. “I will not marry someone I do not know.”

The advisor shifted, his ever-present smirk lingering. “Are you questioning destiny, Prince Liam?”

Liam’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the advisor with quiet fury.

“I’m questioning blind obedience.”

Silence stretched across the throne room, thick with tension.

The queen let out a slow breath.

“Very well,” she murmured, her gaze steady. “You may meet her.”

Liam inclined his head, but the storm inside him did not settle.

Would this meeting prove that everything they were forcing upon him was right?

Or would it prove that it was all wrong?

Eira stood in silence, staring at her reflection—the fire-red eyes, the strange reddish-blue strands in her hair.

She didn’t recognize herself.

Something had changed.

Something was wrong.

Nyx watched her carefully, sensing the storm building within her. He could feel her confusion, her distress, her fear—but more than that, he could feel the shift in her essence.

Her magic was different. Altered.

And now, he understood.

“Something must have happened to the true Fireborn.” Nyx’s voice was quiet but firm.

Eira whipped around, her pulse pounding. “What?”

Nyx tilted his head, his glowing blue eyes unreadable. “Their power—it has passed to you. That is no ordinary transformation, Frostborn. Only deep, ancient magic could transfer something so great.”

Eira’s breath hitched, her stomach twisting. “But that’s impossible. Why would that happen to me?”

Nyx studied her, his tail flicking once. “Fate does not always ask permission.”

Eira clenched her fists, shaking her head, rejecting the idea.

She had always been Frostborn.

She had never been Fireborn.

But now—she wasn’t sure anymore.

And that terrified her.

Eira sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the fabric of her robes as she wrestled with the weight of the name they had given her.

Fireborn.

It wasn’t hers.

And yet—it was the only way to survive this place, to uncover the truth.

She turned to Nyx, his blue eyes steady, waiting for her words.

“Until we figure out what’s happening, address me as Fireborn.”

Nyx hesitated, something unreadable in his expression, but finally, he nodded once.

It was done.

Before she could say anything more, a knock echoed through the room.

She stiffened.

Nyx’s ears twitched, sensing the presence beyond the door.

The guard stepped inside, his posture rigid. “Prince Liam requests your presence for dinner.”

Eira frowned. “Just the two of us?”

The guard hesitated, then nodded. “Observers will be hidden, but the prince wishes to speak with you privately.”

Eira’s chest tightened, her mind racing.

Why?

What did he want?

Still—she had no choice.

She inhaled sharply, gathering her strength, forcing herself to stand tall.

“Very well.”

She would face him.

And she would find out what he was truly testing her for.

Eira sat before her mirror, her fingers running lightly through the strands of her reddish-blue hair, her fire-red eyes staring back at her with quiet uncertainty.

She had instructed Nyx to address her as Fireborn—to accept the title, to wield it until she uncovered the truth. But now, as she prepared to face Prince Liam, the weight of that choice pressed upon her chest.

Nyx sat nearby, watching her. He could feel her unease.

“You are restless.”

Eira let out a slow exhale, dropping her hands to her lap. “I don’t know what he wants.”

Nyx’s tail flicked. “Then go in prepared for anything.”

Eira’s gaze hardened. She was not a pawn. Whatever Liam intended, she would meet it with control, with fire, with answers.

She stood, smoothing the fabric of her robes, but as she turned toward the door, she hesitated.

Her fingers tingled—a warmth unlike anything she had felt before. A pulse of fire, restless, waiting.

She slowly lifted her hand, concentrating, trying to harness whatever had settled deep within her.

A flicker of flame danced along her fingertips.

Her breath hitched—it wasn’t frost. It was heat.

Instinct told her to rein it in, to master it before it controlled her. She inhaled sharply, focusing on the energy, bending it to her will.

For a moment—it obeyed her.

Then, her thoughts wavered, and the fire surged, wild and untamed.

Nyx sprang up, his ears flattened in alarm, sensing the energy spiraling beyond her control.

“Steady yourself, Fireborn.”

Eira gritted her teeth, her pulse racing as she forced the flames to dissipate, shaking her hands to rid herself of the lingering heat.

She exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Nyx.

“I need to control this before anyone sees.”

Nyx held her gaze, understanding the importance of her secrecy.

“Then learn quickly.”