The canyon erupted in chaos.
Malric's followers surged forward, cloaked in shadow, their eyes glowing with cold light. Kael met them head-on, blade flashing, runes on his arm igniting with every strike. Elira stood frozen for a breath—then the crown in her hands flared.
Flames spiraled around her, forming a barrier that held the shadows at bay. The heat didn't burn—it obeyed.
She stepped forward, eyes locked on Malric. "You want the crown? Come take it."
Malric raised his hand. A wave of darkness surged toward her, swallowing light, sound, even air. Elira braced herself, but the crown pulsed—and the fire answered.
It exploded outward, a ring of flame that shattered the shadow wave and sent Malric stumbling back.
His eyes narrowed. "You're stronger than I thought."
Elira's voice was steady. "I'm not the thief you met in the temple."
Kael fought beside her, his blade glowing with ember light. "She's the flames bearer now. And you're out of time."
Malric snarled and vanished into the smoke, his followers retreating with him. The canyon fell silent, scorched and cracked.
Elira collapsed to her knees, the crown dimming in her hands.
Kael knelt beside her. "You held your ground."
She looked up, eyes still glowing faintly. "I didn't just hold it. I commanded it."
Kael nodded slowly. "Then the war has truly begun."