The skies above Hell cracked.
A single streak of celestial light tore through the darkness and slammed into the ash fields beyond the Bloodstone Gate. It didn't burn—it screamed, vibrating reality itself. Even the air trembled.
Lina stood on the obsidian balcony of her palace, arms folded as her eyes followed the trail. She didn't blink. Her heart didn't race. Instead, she whispered a single word beneath her breath:
"They've come."
Behind her, Andra entered the chamber. The silver marks on his chest pulsed dimly, glowing in rhythm with whatever had fallen from the sky.
"It's a Herald," he said grimly. "The Council's making their move."
"Let them," Lina murmured. "I've remembered who I am."
—
They rode on beasts made of bone and smoke, trailing fire behind them as they crossed the obsidian plains. The fallen star had carved a crater into the center of Hell's oldest battlefield—the Scorched Hollow.
Within the crater stood a figure.
Not a god. Not a demon.
A warlock, cloaked in moonlight and wrapped in runes that pulsed with divine restraint. He looked up as Lina approached, and though he smiled, the sorrow in his eyes was older than the stars.
"Yrielle," he breathed. "You wear your name again."
"I go by Lina now," she said coolly. "And I don't know you."
The warlock bowed. "You did. Before the betrayal. I was your anchor, your shadow. Your… love."
Andra's expression darkened. He stepped forward like a wolf scenting blood. "Who are you to speak to her that way?"
"Name's Cael," the warlock replied without flinching. "And I'm here to warn her. Not fight you."
Lina narrowed her eyes. "Warn me of what?"
"The gods aren't coming to punish you. They're coming to erase you." Cael's voice lowered. "And they're bringing the Void Crown."
Andra froze.
Lina tilted her head. "What's the Void Crown?"
"The only thing powerful enough to unmake the First Flame," Cael whispered. "They're going to sever you from your power, Yrielle. Forever."
—
Back at the palace, the fire-drakes screeched from the towers. The entire underworld was on alert. War was coming.
Lina stood before the throne room's mirror of ash—an artifact that revealed the soul's truth. She stared into it and didn't see Lina or Yrielle.
She saw both.
Mortal and goddess.
Human and flame.
She turned to Cael, who now stood beside Andra like a stranger in a lion's den. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because I couldn't save you the first time," Cael said. "I stood by when they branded you a traitor. I watched you fall. I watched your light fade."
Andra scoffed. "So now you want to play hero?"
"No," Cael said. "Now I want to help her survive."
Lina lifted her chin. "Then help me win. I'm not running."
—
That night, the three of them stood in the sacred forge—deep beneath the palace where fire was born from the marrow of dragons. Here, Lina would create her crown.
Not of gold. Not of jewels.
But of bone, ash, and starfire.
She pressed her hands into the molten core, and the flame rose around her like wings. Visions danced in the heat—of the gods in their towers of light, of their betrayal, of her fall… and of her rise.
When the crown cooled, it shimmered with runes in a forgotten language. She placed it upon her head, and the fire bent to her will.
Andra watched her with hunger and awe.
Cael watched her with grief and devotion.
She didn't need their worship. But their loyalty?
She would take it. And use it.
—
On the eve of battle, Lina stood atop the spire of her palace. Below her, legions of demons waited, wings extended, blades drawn. War drums beat a rhythm that shook the mountains.
In the sky above, the rift was opening. Divine light spilled through, and from it descended five silhouettes—each crowned in godlight, each bearing a weapon forged in the stars.
They came not to speak.
Not to judge.
But to end her.
Lina turned to Andra. "Ready?"
He drew his blade. "Always."
She looked at Cael. "You run, I'll find you."
He smiled sadly. "Then I guess I'll stay."
As the first god landed and the battlefield trembled, Lina stepped forward, crown gleaming, eyes burning.
"I am Yrielle. I am Lina. I am flame, fury, and memory."
She raised her hand, and the First Flame roared to life.
"And I am not afraid."