Ashes of Devotion

Restless Night

The outhouse where Daniel and his men were stationed was modest but sufficient. It sat on the farthest edge of the Winchester estate, away from the main house yet still within the boundaries of their watchful gaze. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp wood, old stone, and lingering smoke from a recently doused fireplace. Their beds were simple, lined up against the walls, nothing luxurious, but adequate for soldiers used to sleeping on cold, hard ground.

Daniel dropped onto his bed, rolling his shoulders as he fought against the tension creeping up his spine. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The way the candlelight flickered against her damp skin, the slow movement of her hand as she reached for the robe, the glimpse of bare flesh before she disappeared behind the curtain. He clenched his jaw. Damn it. He had been with countless women, had seen more bodies laid bare before him than he could count, yet something about this was different.

"You sure you’re with us, Captain?" Hale's voice cut through the silence, and Daniel turned his head to see his lieutenant watching him carefully.

Daniel scoffed, rubbing his temples. "I'm fine."

Hale smirked. "Funny, because you look like a man who’s got something he can’t stop thinking about."

Daniel gave him a cold stare, but the truth was, Hale wasn’t wrong. I need to get my head straight, he told himself. This was dangerous, getting distracted like this. He had infiltrated estates before, gained the trust of people he later betrayed, but never had he allowed himself to become preoccupied with someone in the process. He refused to let that change now.

"You know," Hale continued, stretching out on his own cot, "the worst thing a man can do on a mission like this is let himself get caught up with a woman. It makes him sloppy. Weak. You, Captain, are neither."

Daniel sighed, his frustration mounting. "Go to sleep, Hale. We have work to do in the morning."

Hale chuckled but said nothing more. The other men shifted in their cots, murmuring their goodnights before the room fell into stillness.

With a slow breath, Daniel laid back, staring at the wooden ceiling, willing himself into sleep. The sounds of his men shifting in their beds, the wind howling faintly outside, and the distant hum of night creatures filled the quiet.

Then, darkness took him.

The nightmare came swiftly, pulling him under like a raging tide.

He was standing in the middle of the Winchester ballroom, the chandeliers above him swaying as if the earth itself trembled beneath their weight. The once-grand hall was in ruins, shattered glass glinting like diamonds under the flickering candlelight. Blood smeared the marble floors, bodies scattered, lifeless.

In the center of it all stood Emilia.

She was dressed in white, but the fabric was soaked in crimson. Her golden hair, once neatly pinned, hung in tangled waves, her face streaked with tears and blood. Her lips parted, whispering his name, but no sound came out.

His hands were covered in blood. Her blood.

She looked at him with something deeper than betrayal, something that burned into his very soul. "Why?" she mouthed, the question echoing inside his head like a scream.

He tried to step forward, but his feet wouldn’t move. He was frozen in place, forced to watch as Lord Winchester emerged from the shadows, a pistol raised to his daughter’s head.

No.

A gunshot rang out, but it wasn’t the Winchester lord who had fired.

It was Daniel. His own pistol, still warm in his grip, his own hand shaking as he realized where the bullet had landed.

Emilia’s body swayed, her eyes wide with something more than fear, acceptance. And then, like a ghost dissolving into the wind, she crumpled to the bloodied floor.

The sound of his own screams jolted him awake.

Daniel bolted upright, gasping for air. His body was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to his skin as if he had been caught in a storm. His hands trembled as he pushed himself upright, his breath coming in short, ragged gulps.

"Captain!" Hale was at his side in an instant, gripping his shoulder. "You alright?"

Daniel blinked rapidly, the vision of Emilia’s blood-soaked dress still vivid behind his eyes. His entire body burned, his head pounding. He glanced down, seeing the sheets beneath him dark with sweat, his own skin damp and clammy.

His men were awake now, looking at him with concern.

"Just a bad dream," he muttered, rubbing his face. But it felt like more than that. It felt like a warning.

And for the first time in years, Daniel felt truly shaken.