Chapter 31. The Flame That Knows No Master

The crown hovered above the altar, suspended by nothing but the mountain’s will. It rotated slowly, ash shedding from its edges, thin threads of smoke curling and unraveling like spirits that had forgotten their names.

No one moved.

Then Selene stepped forward.

As her hand lifted, the mountain groaned—not in warning, but in recognition. The crown dipped toward her fingers, drawn as if by breath. The silver thread of its call tightened around her chest.

Before she could touch it, the ground split.

Stone screamed. The chasm tore wider, and from the rock behind the first altar, a second rose into being—mirrored in shape, but darker in substance. Not obsidian and heartwood, but something older still. Bone, fused with veins of red ligh