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Chapter 61: Cinder Wards
The fire had not yet died.
Velaria burned in smoldering pockets, whole wards reduced to skeletal remains. Ash hung in the air like a second sky, falling in drifts that coated streets, corpses, and survivors alike. In the ruins of the western quarter, where once stood a bustling market, now only a dozen men and women huddled in silence — rebels clinging to breath in the aftermath of the m******e.
Dante pushed through the smoke, his boots crunching glass underfoot. His coat was scorched, half-torn, but he carried himself like the flames hadn’t touched him. Behind him trailed Mira, rifle slung but eyes scanning every shadow, and Aria, pale as bone, her circuits sparking faintly in the ash-fall.
The rebels looked up as he approached. Their faces were haunted,
