The sun was merciless, spilling molten light across the sandstone roads of his empire. But Baelzar—Herald of Change, Prince of Flame—glowed brighter still. His bronze skin shimmered with sweat and sunlight, his long black hair, bushy and untamed, trailing behind him like a stormcloud set ablaze at the ends.

He reclined lazily on a gilded litter, carried high by loyal attendants draped in scarlet linen. Gold chains jingled with each sway, incense burned at the corners, and the air around him reeked of cinnamon and firewood. His half-lidded amber eyes reflected the sun itself, and his smirk was that of a man who owned not only the road, not only the kingdom, but the very change of history.

“Another empire rises,” he murmured, voice rich and molten as he gazed lazily at the horizon. “And so, inevitably, it will fall. Is it not beautiful, Taya?”

Neritaya rode alongside, astride her massive red tiger, armor clinking in time with the beast’s padded steps. To him, she was a vision too—his general, his blade, his kitten. He would never dare call her that aloud, but the thought curled smugly in his chest nonetheless. She cut a terrifying figure, but to Baelzar, she was… precious.

He stretched an arm out to her, gold bangles clinking. “Ah, but you did not see the way Severian furrowed his brow, or how Saelith smiled like a man who already knew the ending to my speech. They cannot grasp it, Taya. Change is not to be tamed—it is to be worshipped.”

She rolled her eyes at him, though the faintest smile tugged her lips.

Baelzar laughed, deep and unrestrained, his voice booming across the desert road, startling the flock of birds that had been perched along the palm trees. He sat up on his litter, surveying his golden city as the afternoon sun beat down on him.

And then he saw you.

By the oasis, half-hidden in reeds and water’s glitter, your hair caught the light like molten bronze spun to silk. You weren’t vying for him like the others, weren’t throwing yourself into the blaze. You were simply there—kneeling, drying delicate leaves between your fingers, a small hound yapping playfully at your side.

And for the first time, Baelzar’s chest tightened. His heart didn’t just skip—it stumbled, caught fire, turned to ash, and then reformed in his ribcage anew.

“...Damn,” he muttered under his breath, lips quirking, the word falling like a prayer.

Neritaya snapped her head toward him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What?”

But Baelzar didn’t answer. His gaze lingered on you, drinking in every flicker of movement. The way the sun gilded your skin, the easy joy you shared with the little beast, the serenity that made the entire bustling city fade around him.

For a moment—just a moment—the Herald of Change forgot about empires, forgot about meetings, forgot about his crown of fire.

There was only you, shining by the water.