Zero saw a frown on captain Osero’s face. She and he were looking at the massive screen that showed the advanced forces’ approximate location. The sandstorm hit with full force, covering the entire horizon in swirling darkness. The winds' rage and ferocity ripped away a few insectoids and animals that had failed to hide, lifting them to the sky before tearing unfortunate creatures apart.

The Third Army began their advance straight into this hellish weather front. The front forces were made up of a mix of new breeds: the Alpha team, Annie’s pack, Ashbringer’s forces, Valerye’s pack, and the forces of four other warlords. Four thousand wolfkins in total; twenty thousand soldiers, a mixed group of new breeds and normies dressed in the most advanced power armors, trailed them. The Omega team was scouting the flanks, darting way ahead of allied forces to learn about the enemies’ locations. Behind the main force were tanks and mechanical suits. And finally, behind them all, at a respectable distance, moved mobile artillery units, hiding in the crawlers’ shadows.

Behind her helmet, Zero raised her brows. The screen showed occasional explosions in the distance, every centimeter of the enemy’s front lines was mined. The Omega team had a field day disarming these mines, while Ashbringer simply bathed the land before herself in flames, overheating the surface to such a degree that even mines meant to endure the Ravaged Lands’ heat exploded. The flame danced against the warlord, moving unnaturally while she led her forces deeper.

And not a single shot met them. Countless trenches were empty, pillboxes were trapped and also devoid of all life. The Omega team, drones, and other scouts searched far and wide, finding some trapped traders and a few low-ranked soultakers hiding from the sandstorm in cracks on the ground. All of them were taken to Frederick’s crawler. The traders were questioned and will soon be released. Meanwhile, the enemy soldiers were given special drugs to make them speak the truth.

"Retreated." A holographic image of Ivar appeared behind Osero, making the captain turn around. Ivar was still floating to his chest in the healing solution, cradling his broken arm gently. Even being seen in such an undignified manner, the blue wyrm sounded almost pleased, "A correct decision. And quite skillfully made, considering that they are merely savages. Moving the entire army... This means that they want us to lay siege to the Moon City and crush us from behind."

"Let us not disappoint them then," Another image rose from the holographic table, showing the proud form of captain Scorpio riding atop a crawler, "If we take down the Moon City before they can strike us in the back, the Soultakers' lands will be split in two and their plan will be no more."

"If." Zero said, and Osero nodded to her in thanks. Even Ivar glanced at her with approval.

"The warlord is correct. Why walk into the trap willingly and feel the hammer at our backs? The Moon City is the anvil; it will not and cannot, run. Our aim must be the hammer. Destroy the army and starve the opposition inside their bastions." Ivar moved his neck, enjoying being freed from being submerged.

"Are we to march into the enemy’s lands, cutting ourselves off from the supply route, and leaving our backs open for the Bento tribe to attack?"

"Leave a token force to siege the Moon City and move on. Deal with one enemy and turn to finish off the other one." Ivar retorted.

"The two elders of the Bento Tribe guard the Moon City. The token siege force won’t hold them back," Scorpio pointed out the obvious, "No, we take down the stronghold in one fell swoop."

"You have a plan then, captain?" Osero looked up at the black wyrm’s disembodied image floating above the table.

"Always, my friend. Everything is within my calculations," Scorpio said with a smile, adding, "Even the strongest gates can be opened from within. "The Moon City falls, and this is final."

"Pawns," Ivar looked at the screen, his eyes narrowing at the sea of flame surrounding Ashbringer, "Is the warlord still hearing the voices?"

"Yes," Zero replied, touching a remote on her belt. She wouldn’t dare… would she? "We have no idea yet if this is a manifestation of her power or…"

Her speech was cut short by the voice of an operator. The man excused himself, bringing the urgent message to the screen, and Ivar’s form flowed forward, examining the new change on the map, indicating the detected enemies’ movement. Zero had little idea what the black square meant—a single black square against a sea of red dots, rings, squares, and rectangles indicating the advance formation of the Reclaimers. She was a warlord by name, not by skill. Give her a target, and she will see it brought low. The military strategy was outside her area of expertise. However, she knew where this square was moving. Bonafell.

"Leila…" Ivar shook his head, surprised by his own words. He spoke again, sounding as cold and calculating as ever, "Warlord Zero, in light of these news, you are to take Olesya and her pack and move out to support warlord Alpha and wolf hag Aranea in Bonafell."

"I will move quicker on my own."

"No doubt," Ivar tapped with an ethereal claw against the square. "This right here is Jekaterina. You are to take her down, if possible. If not, drive her off."

****

Ashbringer stood in a sea of flames, surrounded by mine explosions. The steel pieces ricocheted off her armor, creating an interesting melody among the crackling of flame. The warlord’s honor guard was left behind her, waiting for the flames to recede and stop, leaving her to enjoy licking the flames against the steel of her armor.

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Following a strange urge, Ashbringer let her helmet fall from her face, inhaling the hot air and feeling whips of flame slide across her skin, slithering beneath the fur's hair, and giving her kiss after kiss far more tender than any lower had ever given her. She enjoyed its touch while a pillbox was melting before her very eyes, the flame moving toward it, following Ashbringer’s thought, melting its way through concrete walls and devouring everything within. The sensations and pleasure provided by the flames were... intoxicating. She wanted to prolong it, to…

The helmet moved back on her head, and Ashbringer bit her tongue, pushing the decadent thoughts back. She was scared, although she will never admit this to anyone. The veins on her new arm glowed. There were no nanomachines in her, at least none that she knew of, and the crimson of her veins scared her to death. The fire was now in her, coursing through her blood, filling her thoughts with weird desires and actions so unsuited for a warlord that they messed with her clarity. Her obsession with fire, for example, Ashbringer loved fire, ever since she offered her first body to it, but she liked her fur more. She hated when it became dry. So why would she…

Because you want to devour everything. Ashbringer looked into the flames, seeing a figure standing there. It took her a moment to notice that the flames' tongues had become still, the cracking and sound of explosions had stopped, leaving her all alone in the soundless world, locked within suddenly useless armor, exposed to the single voice coming from the shadow standing behind the frozen flaming hell.

I know you. Ashbringer doubted this. The very first kill that you made sealed the pact between us. Do you remember it?

The warlord did. She was a young cub in the pit, and one stupid male dared to snap at her, desperate to get to the food. She responded properly, biting him back, and his body fell, his windpipe and neck broken, while he was gurgling on his own blood. It was then that Ashbringer saw how thin he was, how his ribs pushed against his scarred hide, and that he had lost almost all his fur to the bullying of other girls. The shamans told her to end his suffering, and so she did, quickly and mercifully. His brain matter was her meal that night, and his name is engraved in Ashbringer forever still. Always show restraint. Always control your urges.

The shamans lied to you. He could have been saved. You just killed him for fun and offered his body to the flames. The shadow told her, his bombastic voice sounding like the verdict of a judge. Ashbringer would laugh if she could move. Nowadays, yes, the shamans have grown softer. They would have saved the male. Back then? No such luck, they would have left him dying slowly, an example of weakness.

Ashbringer felt no guilt for what she had done. He was a fool and paid in full. Back when Ravager was still with the Tribe, it was customary for all new warlords to leave the tribe and meditate for weeks in the desolate wasteland, drinking no water and eating no food. Until the blessed mother comes down on them and judges them.

Ravager discovered her near-death from dehydration and hunger. She stood nearby, a towering figure with fur indistinguishable from the night, listening to Ashbringer confess all her sins to the blessed mother. The warlord expected to be punished for mentioning something as trivial as killing a male. Instead, Ravager stood with her eyes closed, sniffing Ashbringer with her nose. Finally, Ravager’s drool fell into the warlord’s mouth, and the blessed mother threw the carcass of a dead insectoid queen for the warlord to feed on. Before leaving, Ravager simply said: "Be a good girl from now on."

Ashbringer realized she was free of all guilt for his death at that moment. And that she must honor him by living properly.

Tell yourself whatever lies you want, the result will be the same. Know that the night you feasted on his body, you begged for a flame bright enough to send him to the Spirits properly. And I have granted you this flame. It scared you, and you sealed me away, daughter. This seal is no more. I have come to claim my due.

Ashbringer was no kin of his, this much she knew. The warlord had been scared as a cub by the sudden pyre, but she was overcoming her fear, mastering the flames, and tempering her flesh with them from this day forward. Ashbringer felt some pressure against her thoughts, similar to when Ivar was prying open her mind, learning about missions’ details.

I am the father of all and everything. All life on this rock owes me its existence. Sensing your desire, I gave you the power. Use it now. Let the flame burn through your veins. Become stronger than anyone. Stronger than Ravager. Sear the whole world clean with flame, burn it down, and let the howls of dying reach all the way to space. Burn and burn, until no sound can be heard any longer, and the world is covered in ash...

His words hit like a mace, powering through her skull, aiming to beat down her will and make the warlord submit. She felt something similar before. Mincemeat, the maniac who controlled half a million people with his mind, tried to get into her brain when Ashbringer tried to follow Ravager. She was jerked back by the Dynast himself, shivering and whining at her weakness, while the blessed mother brought upon the carnage.

She refused to cave in then, and she refused to cave in now, pushing her iron will to the limit and refusing to listen to the shadow’s lies. Slowly, the fire started moving, covering the shadow, before it fully disappeared. Ashbringer looked around, surprised that not even a second passed according to the helmet’s HUD.

She glanced at her bodyguards, nodding to the male who held a key to her life. Once, she wanted to make him her soulmate, but the strange male had other interests. He was capable and loyal, yet willing to do what needed to be done in times of need.

The moment she heard voices calling for indiscriminate slaughter, Ashbringer made doctors install a bomb in her heart. If things went wrong, Zero had one of the remotes that could detonate the bomb. Ivar, her direct superior, had one as well. And finally, this….

This disgusting, worthless male, underserving of living. Hate him. Hate his control over me. His blood should spill on the rocks, and I should burn his bra…

The warlord bit her lips, tearing away a chunk of flesh. The symptoms were getting worse. She had heard of people going mad because of their powers. No doubt, the same was happening to her. But she will tough it out; she will endure until the war ends, and then she will be put down like a rabid dog. For the state. For the Tribe. For him…

Hold on. These words were unlike the oppressive will of the strange shadow. It was like a pat on the shoulder, a friendly encouragement from someone incredibly ancient and, at the same time, impossibly familiar. Never before had Ashbringer felt such a feeling. Someone was cheering her on. Hold on for the sake of your people, the memory of the dead, or your own pride. It matters not. Just hold on awhile longer, girlie. And all will be well.