Chapter 29: March of Ash and Flame

The ash dunes stretched endlessly toward the horizon, a sea of muted gray ripples under the weary sun. Lyanna Mirrorguard sat on the edge of one such dune, her mangled fingers resting on the twin swords at her side. Her grip on Scarlet still felt clumsy, the sword’s familiar weight foreign in her injured hand. But weeks of relentless sparring with Alric Blackthorn had dulled her frustration, replacing it with something close to acceptance. Practice, after all, was the only way forward.

She sat on the edge of the ash dune outside the command tent, her sharp gaze sweeping over the training grounds below. The sky above hung heavy with the ever-present haze from the Burnt Sea, casting a muted, gray light over the camp.

Two hundred and fifty soldiers—her army.

Not much to lead into battle against the Devourer, but they were among the best-trained armies now. Weeks of relentless drills in tight formations, adapting to the uneven terrain of the ash-laden forest. Small groups of four, each unit moving like a seamless extension of one another. It was the only way to survive the cursed woods where visibility vanished and danger could strike from any shadow.

Beside her, Alric Blackthorn sat cross-legged, silent in meditation. His shoulder brushed against hers, a small, grounding presence. There had been a time when even that slight contact would have made her skin crawl. A Mirrorguard sitting calmly with a Blackthorn? Madness. Their families had been locked in a bitter feud for well over a decade, but weeks of war had melted the edges of their rivalry into something more complicated. Something akin to friendship.

Lyanna had named him second-in-command despite the grumbling of her officers. Even now, the decision felt strange on her tongue, but she couldn’t deny his effectiveness. No one knew how to fight in harsh conditions like the Blackthorns. And though she would never admit it aloud, she valued his advice.

Alric exhaled slowly, the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips as if sensing her thoughts. Annoying bastard.

The distant clang of steel rang out from the forest edge where their soldiers drilled, and she straightened, letting her gaze linger on the horizon.

Behind her, the grinding hum of gears and shifting metal broke the stillness.

She sighed. "Kael," she said without turning.

Sure enough, Kael and his bonded dragon, Titanis, emerged from the haze. Titanis was a small thing—by dragon standards—but his mechanical body gleamed in the ashen light, brass and silver plates interlocking with an almost organic grace. The hatchling’s wings unfurled briefly, scattering a plume of ash before folding neatly against his sides.

Kael’s pale eyes, haunted and sharp, flicked between her and Alric. He crossed his arms, his usual scowl etched deeply into his features. The boy had been surviving alone in the woods with only Titanis for company when Alric found them. Same age as her and Alric—seventeen—but he carried himself like someone much older. Survival did that to a person.

“Your plan,” Kael said, cutting straight to the point. “I don’t like it.”

Lyanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Here we go again.

“Good morning to you too, Kael.”

“I’m serious.” He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “You want to use Titanis against the Devourer. I won’t let you.”

Alric opened one eye, clearly listening but staying silent for now.

Lyanna rose to her feet, brushing ash from her tunic. “I understand your concern—”

“No, you don’t.” Kael’s gaze hardened. “He’s just a hatchling. You can’t throw him into battle like a weapon.”

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“He’s not just a hatchling,” she countered, stepping toward him. “He’s a dragon. And dragonfire is our best chance against the Devourer. Divine fire is the only thing that creature fears.”

Kael’s jaw clenched. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t.” Her voice softened, though her tone remained firm. “The Devourer’s corruption is otherworldly. Nothing mortal can kill it. Except dragonfire.”

Kael glanced down at Titanis, who chirped softly, nuzzling his leg. The bond between them was undeniable, fierce and protective. She understood his reluctance—she truly did—but there wasn’t time for hesitation or sentiment.

“I won’t let him get hurt,” Kael said after a long pause, his voice quieter now. “Not for this.”

Lyanna sighed. That argument again.

She folded her arms. “Kael, you won’t be on the front line. You and Titanis will stay at the back, near the healers. You’ll only move when we’ve forced the Devourer into position.”

“And if something goes wrong?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. “What if he’s not ready?”

Lyanna took a step closer, lowering her voice. “That’s a risk we all take, every day we march toward that thing. You think I’m not afraid? You think Alric isn’t? We all are. But we can’t let fear rule us.”

Kael met her gaze, something fierce and wounded in his eyes. “He’s all I have.”

Lyanna’s expression softened, and for a moment, she let herself feel the weight of his words. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “And we’ll protect him. Together.”

Titanis chirped again, fluttering his wings as if sensing the tension ease. Kael exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“I’m trusting you,” he said quietly.

Lyanna nodded. “And I won’t betray that trust. But trust me on this—Titanis is stronger than you think.”

Kael glanced at the dragon, who stared back with wide, knowing eyes. After a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod.

Alric finally spoke, his voice calm and steady. “We fight together, or we die alone.”

Kael shot him a look but said nothing. Lyanna saw the shift in his posture, the way he squared his shoulders again.

"Fine," Kael said. "But if anything happens to him—"

“It won’t,” Lyanna cut in, her tone final. “We’ll make sure of it.”

As Kael turned back toward the forest, Titanis trailing at his side, Lyanna exchanged a glance with Alric.

“He’ll come around,” Alric said.

“He has to.”

Because the Devourer wouldn’t wait.

Captain Davor approached, his steps deliberate, his posture as rigid as the steel of his armor. He stopped a few paces away and bowed stiffly. “Commander, the soldiers have finished their warm-up drills and stand ready to advance.”

From beneath his cloak, Davor produced a small leather pouch and handed it to her. The bag of ash was cool to the touch, a weight that felt oddly comforting. She looped it onto her belt, her mind already turning to the practicalities of her ash magic. It would prove useful in the dense woods ahead.

Lyanna glanced down at the training grounds. The troops had fallen into neat formations, their ashen cloaks blending into the landscape, spears and shields steady in their hands. Her eyes shifted to Davor’s outstretched hand—a small leather pouch filled with fine, black ash. She took it wordlessly. It would fuel her ash magic when the time came.

“Good.” She tied the pouch to her belt. “Send the Emberhawks ahead.”

Davor’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen from the stoic captain. The Emberhawks—a special strike force of warriors and mages trained to rush enemy positions—had been his pride and joy. They were fast, ruthless, and perfectly suited to the cursed terrain ahead.

“They’ll burn out the dens the scouts found,” Lyanna continued. “No monster leaves those woods alive.”

Davor bowed. “It will be done.”

As he marched off, Alric stood, stretching out his arms before grabbing his armor. The dark plates gleamed faintly under the gray ligh.

“You think he’ll follow orders?” Alric asked, strapping on his vambraces. “Davor has a mind of his own nowadays.”

“He’ll follow,” Lyanna said, shrugging on her own breastplate. The runes embedded along its surface glowed faintly as they adjusted to her. “He knows what’s at stake.”

Below, she watched as a squad of Emberhawks split off from the main force, slipping silently into the woods. The army itself began to break into smaller units of four, each group covering a different path into the cursed forest. The formations spread wide, stretching from their position toward the ruins of Greenhaven.

Kael’s hometown. The once-prosperous town was a desolate husk now, overrun by twisted beasts.

Alric tapped the back of her breastplate, signaling he was ready to move. She turned, fumbling with her gauntlets. The enchanted armor adjusted itself, but her mangled fingers still struggled with the clasps. She waved off an aide who approached to help, forcing herself to manage alone.

“I’m heading in,” Alric said, adjusting the strap of his sword belt. “You should, too.”

“I will,” she replied, slipping her gauntlets on at last. She flexed her fingers, feeling the hum of magic settle over her hands.

They marched together toward the edge of the woods, where shadows twisted unnaturally, waiting to swallow them whole.

“Think we’ll make it through?” Alric asked.

Lyanna’s gaze hardened. “We have to.”