The golden palace of Solaryn glittered beneath the twin suns, but inside its halls, shadows grew longer by the day. Ministers came and went, bowing low to the man who now ruled in the Emperor's name—the man with eyes of molten amber and a voice sharp as a blade.
Prince Varcan Solaryn had all but claimed the throne. The generals followed him, the nobles whispered his praise, and Helmor Veyne—the ever-smiling chancellor—made sure the court moved like clockwork at his command. The Emperor, meanwhile, remained locked in his chamber, too weak to speak or resist.
For the first time, everything felt within Varcan's grasp.
Until the messenger arrived.
He was a scout captain—bloodied, terrified, and half-broken from his ride across the plains. Varcan dismissed the nobles, waving them from the hall with one lazy flick of his hand. The scout fell to one knee before him, gasping for breath.
"My lord… forgive my intrusion… the mission to hunt the exiled one—"
Varcan's expression didn't change. "You mean the traitor?"
"Yes, sire," the man said quickly. "The assassins you sent… none returned."
Helmor looked up sharply. "None?"
The scout swallowed hard. "All dead. We found ash… and traces of Rift flame."
For a long moment, the hall felt hollow. The torches flickered as if fearing to burn too bright.
Varcan stood slowly from his chair. The room seemed to darken around him, though the sun still shone outside. "Rift flame?" he repeated quietly.
The messenger nodded. "Reports said the air burned red and gold—like divine fire. Locals say the land itself shook. Some call it… a rebirth."
Helmor narrowed his eyes. "So he's alive."
The word hit Varcan like a dagger. Alive.
It echoed too loudly.
Impossible—he'd watched the exile sigil seal. The boy was thrown beyond the Rift. He couldn't return. But the human heart doesn't always believe what the mind insists.
Helmor's voice broke through his thoughts. "If this is true, it changes little. The Empire bows to you now. He's a fugitive with no allies."
Varcan turned—slowly, dangerous as a storm forming behind calm skies. "You think power alone protects me?"
Helmor hesitated. "He was one man, my lord."
Varcan's gaze was cold. "One man who refused the gods. One man who carried Cassian's flame stronger than mine. One man, the people still whisper about."
He walked to the window, staring over the marble courtyards. "If he's alive… he'll come here. He'll come for everything I've built."
The air thickened. Helmor bowed his head slightly, forcing composure. "Then we prepare. Let him return. We'll be ready this time."
But inside, both men knew the truth—no wall or army could shelter them long from the vengeance of a prince reborn.
Far away, under the shattered moons of the Aurelion wildlands, Mukul stirred in silence.
The storm that followed the battle had finally faded, leaving behind a landscape scorched by energy. His companions had built a shelter nearby, waiting, hoping.
For days, he had hovered between breath and nothing—his body wrapped in flames that healed as they burned. Faith had guarded his side, her light forming a gentle shield against night beasts. Luna tended to his wounds with illusory mist that soothed the pain, while Nira stood watch without sleep, her sword buried in the ground beside him like an unspoken oath.
Now, under the crimson dawn, his fingers twitched.
Faith gasped softly, leaning closer. "He's waking."
The air around Mukul shimmered. The burned ground glowed faintly gold, then brighter—until the entire plain was bathed in warmth. The light surged outward as his chest rose sharply, his breath catching like fire relit.
Then his eyes opened.
They weren't just gold anymore—they blazed with red-gold flame, deeper and calmer than before. The old divinity and Aurelion power had fused entirely.
"Mukul," Faith whispered. "You've been out for three days."
He looked down at his hands. The skin was unscarred, the wound gone. Energy pulsed through his veins, steady and alive. "I remember… pain… voices…" His tone was faint and thoughtful. "And then silence. After that—clarity."
Luna tilted her head, curiosity bright. "So, are you… You?"
He smiled slightly. "Yes. And more."
He rose slowly, stretching his arms as flames coiled lazily around him like tame serpents. The wild heat that once fought his control now flowed in harmony. The world's energy recognised him—not as an intruder, but as one of its rulers.
"This power…" he murmured. "It doesn't burn anymore. It listens."
Nira crossed her arms. "Then it's time to use it. Varcan won't wait long before moving again."
Mukul nodded. "He knows I'm alive."
Faith frowned. "How can you be sure?"
"Because I felt it," Mukul said softly, closing his eyes. "When I awakened… the connection between our bloodlines stirred. In that moment, I saw him—his fear, his anger. He's already planning."
Luna smirked faintly. "Then we've got his attention. Good."
But Mukul didn't smile. He looked up at the sky, twin suns rising, wind lifting his cloak. "The time for running ends here." He clenched his fist, the merged energy bursting softly in golden sparks. "The court will soon see which Solaryn was chosen by flame—and which one only borrowed its light."
Faith stepped forward, her eyes bright but gentle. "Mukul, your body is still recovering. Give it a few days—"
He turned toward her, calm but resolute. "No. The man they exiled is gone. The one standing here walks with worlds within him. I don't need days."
The air pulsed in response, echoes of golden script glowing faintly beneath his feet—signs of a completed transformation. Rift magic and divine runes intertwined, sealing his new form: Mukul Ardyn Solaryn—the Reforged Flame.
Luna gave a low whistle. "That's dramatic. You're going to terrify the court when you show up."
"Good," he said simply. "Let them be terrified."
He lifted his gaze eastward—the direction of Solaryn Citadel, where his uncle sat on a throne not his own.
Somewhere beyond those towers, Varcan felt a chill despite the morning heat. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and saw, for just a heartbeat, another face flicker over his own—the face of the nephew he'd betrayed.
And deep down, for the first time in years, Prince Varcan Solaryn was afraid.