The Ashmark had grown beyond anything Kaelin had imagined.
It wasn’t just a place—it was an idea. A sanctuary that called out to the world’s broken edges. A bastion for the weary, the silenced, and the ones who had survived belief without losing themselves to it.
But ideas, Kaelin knew, were fragile things.
Especially when the fire came for them.
---
The scouts brought news at dawn.
A fleet of flameborn emissaries had crossed the Tinderspine Hills. Dozens of wagons. Torchbearers. Silent pilgrims clad in ash-white robes. And behind them, towering pyres etched with the sigil of the One in Embers.
They called it The Ember Pilgrimage.
A show of power. A reclamation. And it was heading straight for the Ashmark.
Kaelin stood at the edge of the Hollow’s western gate, watching the smoke r
