Chapter 6: Shattered Truths

The vision shattered with a sharp crack, plunging the room into darkness. Ember collapsed onto the floor, her breath ragged and uneven. Confusion swirled in her mind—this wasn’t normal. Something real and unnameable was pulling her toward it. She steadied her breathing, her head pounding as thoughts raced. Who was that in the mirror? she wondered.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and her mother stormed in, grabbing Ember by the hair and yanking her to her feet. “What’s all the noise in here, you ungrateful brat?” she spat.

“I fell, Mom. I’m sorry,” Ember whimpered, wincing in pain.

Her mother shoved her onto the bed. “Try not to be so damn clumsy, for goodness’ sake.” At that moment, the sound of the downstairs door closing signaled her father’s return. Tracy’s demeanor shifted instantly. She adjusted Ember’s disheveled clothes and hurried to greet her husband.

“Michael, you’re home,” Tracy said with a smile, reaching for his coat. He tossed it onto the couch without a glance at her and headed upstairs toward Ember’s room. Tracy’s smile faded, her eyes betraying resentment toward her daughter.

“Hey, my fiery princess,” Michael said, stepping into Ember’s room. His smile faltered as he noticed her sadness. “What’s wrong, Ember?”

She looked down, tears silently falling as she hugged his waist. Michael gently lifted her chin, his brows furrowed with concern. He hated seeing her like this and felt guilty for being away so often as the king’s advisor. He kissed her forehead. “Sweetie, I’m sorry it’s been so long. Your mother is treating you well, right?”

Ember hesitated. She wanted to tell him the truth but knew he wouldn’t hesitate to punish her mother severely. Despite everything, she couldn’t bear the thought of her mother’s death. “Yes, Father. Mother treats me well,” she lied, her fiery golden eyes meeting his.

Outside the door, Tracy smirked, knowing Ember would never reveal the truth. She left to prepare dinner, confident she could continue her torment as long as she left no visible marks.

Michael let go of Ember and gave her one last lingering look before heading downstairs. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong, but he trusted his fiery princess to come to him when she was ready.

Meanwhile, Tracy stood in the bathroom, adjusting her makeup with precision, her mind preoccupied with maintaining appearances. Her reflection stared back at her, polished and seemingly untouched by guilt. Then, without warning, her world shattered—her head slammed against the mirror, leaving a jagged crack and a streak of blood. Disoriented and stunned by the pain, she turned to find Michael standing behind her. His eyes were dark, cold, and full of disgust.

Before Tracy could react, Michael shoved her further into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them to shield Ember from the unfolding chaos. His voice was sharp and venomous, each word dripping with fury. “You dare hurt my daughter?” He slapped her across the face with enough force to send her reeling. “You are here to care for her and nothing else. She is kind-hearted enough to protect you, despite all the ways you’ve wronged her.”

Tracy struggled to regain her composure as another slap landed, the sting sparking her rage. Her boiling fury erupted, and she shouted through her tears, “She’s not even your daughter, Michael! Where did she come from? Is she your mistress’s child, and you’re forcing me to care for her?”

Michael froze at her words for a brief second, his jaw tightening. Then, without hesitation, another slap echoed through the small space, the force leaving Tracy’s face swollen and wet with tears. “You dare to speak to me about loyalty when you’ve betrayed me time and time again? It’s not your place to question why I protect Ember. She is worth more than you will ever understand.”

Tracy’s tears streamed faster now, her voice raw and cracking with desperation. “Why do you protect her so? I’m your wife! I deserve your love, Michael!”

But Michael had no answers for her. Without another word, he turned and left the bathroom, his movements sharp and deliberate as he walked toward the front door. Tracy stumbled after him, pleading for one last shred of acknowledgment. “Please, Michael, don’t leave. Eat dinner with us and then go, please.”

Michael barely spared her a glance as he opened the door. “Tell Ember I’ll write her,” he said flatly, slamming the door behind him without looking back.

Tracy stood motionless in the entryway, her sobs echoing through the house. Her thoughts spiraled into resentment and bitterness, the seeds of hatred planted deeper with every tear. It’s all that little brat’s fault. Michael never loved me after he brought home that baby years ago. If he hadn’t, I never would’ve had an affair, she thought, her mind trapped in a vortex of blame. Her cold, calculating eyes drifted toward the stairs where she spotted Ember’s faint shadow, lingering silently. Her lips curled into a smile—sharp, cold, and devoid of warmth. She knew Ember had heard everything.

Upstairs, Ember felt paralyzed, as though her soul had splintered. She had quietly sat on the steps, terrified yet unable to pull herself away from what she was hearing. The sound of her father’s rage had shaken her deeply, but the revelation left her frozen in place. I’m not their daughter? The words echoed in her mind, warping her sense of reality. A sudden surge of cold swept over her, the familiar chill that often appeared around her now intensified into something far more sinister. Pain blossomed inside her, festering with every passing second. Her fiery golden eyes shifted, turning red and blue, her veins pulsing with an unnatural rhythm of icy heat.

Ember staggered back into her room, her trembling hands gripping the edges of her bed. She closed her eyes, desperate to control the chaotic force growing inside her. Her chest felt tight, her breathing ragged, until the power surged again—this time unrelenting. When she opened her eyes, the room had transformed. Ice covered the walls and floor, sharp crystals forming in jagged bursts. She stood in the center of it all, shaking as her body radiated both cold and heat.

In the corner of the frozen room, a man appeared, his feet trapped in thick ice that rooted him to the spot. His face showed pure terror, his mouth moving as if trying to speak, but no sound reached her ears. Ember’s pulse quickened as another surge enveloped her, followed by an inexplicable warmth. Then, through the haze of confusion, she heard a soft cry. It wasn’t her own. A whisper followed—a gentle, soothing voice that didn’t use her name but instead called her something entirely foreign. “It’ll be okay, Eira,” the voice said, echoing in her mind.