Ash and Loyalty
937 Words
The Pact moved at dawn.
Solas rode at the center of the column—his cloak newly woven from silver-threaded wolfhide, a gift from the Pact elders. He looked older already, Zuri thought. Or maybe he had simply remembered more of who he had been.
The warriors around them marched in silence. Twenty had become seventy. Word of the Flameborn’s awakening had spread like wildfire. Outcasts, witches, and forgotten bloodlines now rallied to his banner—not because they trusted him, but because they feared what would happen if they didn’t.
They reached the Howler’s Divide by nightfall, a deep canyon scorched into the earth, where the old tribes once met in peace.
Now, it would be the site of their first war council.
Zuri stood at the edge of the canyon, watching smoke rise from the Ash Queen’s distant scouts.
“She’s closer than we thought,” she murmured.
Kairo stepped beside her. “We still have time. Her army’s large, but they’re not yet unified.”
Zuri shook her head. “She doesn’t need unity. She needs chaos. And Solas—Kaelion—he’s the match she’s come to strike.”
Kairo looked back toward camp.
The boy sat alone, surrounded by warriors who bowed but kept their distance. Even among his followers, Solas was an outsider. A legend in flesh. A threat in child’s skin.
“I don’t know if we’re protecting him,” Kairo muttered, “or preparing him to be used like all the others.”
Inside the war tent, Solas sat before a map inked in fire and shadow.
Three paths lay ahead:
1. Hold the Divide, a defensive position with ancient enchantments still lingering. Risk: being surrounded.
2. Strike first, take out the Ash Queen’s lead scouts, and force her hand. Risk: drawing her wrath too early.
3. Retreat to the Ashgroves, lure the Queen’s army into cursed territory. Risk: unknown.
He turned to his commanders—each powerful, dangerous, and loyal only by oath.
“What would Kaelion do?” one of them asked.
Solas looked up, his voice low. “He would burn it all. And let the ashes choose what grows next.”
The room fell silent.
Then Zuri entered.
“We’re not asking what Kaelion would do,” she said. “We’re asking what you will do.”
Solas stared at her.
Then he nodded once.
“We strike at dawn.”
The plan was simple.
Solas would unleash his flame on the Ash Queen’s front scouts, disrupting their lines. Kairo would lead the main charge. Zuri and the Pact elders would protect the ridge.
But the night before the attack, Zuri felt it.
A pulse in the earth.
Something ancient.
Something wrong.
She found Solas standing in the center of the canyon, barefoot, hands raised to the stars.
His body glowed faintly.
“Solas,” she whispered.
He turned. But his eyes weren’t his.
They were molten. Alive. And behind them, a voice that was not his own whispered:
“She comes bearing the chains of gods. And the blood of wolves will be her key.”
Zuri stepped forward. “Solas. Come back.”
He blinked—and the glow vanished.
“I saw her,” he said. “I saw everything. The fire… the bodies… and you. You were bleeding.”
She swallowed hard. “Then change it.”
At dawn, fire split the sky.
Solas stood on a cliff, both hands raised, as pillars of flame erupted along the enemy’s path. Screams echoed through the Divide.
Kairo’s wolves surged down the ridge in formation, blades drawn, howling like the ancients of old.
The Ash Queen’s scouts were not prepared. But they were not weak.
Some were flamebinders—mages who could absorb heat and twist it into destruction.
The battlefield lit up with firestorms and blood.
Zuri fought in the front, silver flames swirling around her. She cut down two scouts with a single sweep, eyes scanning for the Queen.
But she never came.
Only her voice did.
It rang out across the Divide, echoing in every mind.
“So… the boy learns to bite.”
Solas dropped to one knee, holding his head. The voice slithered through his thoughts.
“You were once Kaelion. You burned cities to salt. And now you let these children guide you?”
“Come to me. Reclaim your throne. Or I will carve your future from your corpse.”
The fire on the field died instantly.
The Ash Queen had sent a curse-walker—a shadow-cloaked assassin—straight into their ranks.
It headed for Solas.
Zuri saw it first.
She threw herself forward, slamming the creature mid-air with a burst of silver light. It hissed, smoke curling from its broken ribs.
Kairo was there in seconds, his blade cleaving it in two.
Solas stood slowly.
“I felt her,” he said, shaking. “Inside my mind.”
Zuri took his face in her hands.
“Then fight her there. You’re not Kaelion. You’re not just a weapon.”
“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “She’s not trying to kill me…”
He looked toward the sky, where black clouds began to spiral.
“…she’s trying to bring me home.”
As the storm gathered and their victory faded into dread, Zuri, Kairo, and Solas stood on the edge of war.
Behind them, the Pact regrouped.
Before them, the Ash Queen’s full army now approached—ten thousand strong, with monsters not seen since the First Age.
And between it all stood one boy.
One choice.
And a power older than time.
- Writer
