Clothes ragged, skin filthy, shoes worn through, and feet bloody, the three refugees shuffled though the crowd as the soldiers parted it. Two men half guided, half carried an older woman between them. The man on the left was angry, his angular jaw clenched so tight his neck corded from the effort. A man with nothing but violence on his mind. Revenge? Almost his polar opposite, the man on the right stared blankly ahead. Numb. From the trip or from what he’d seen? The woman’s bushy white hair gave her a wild look, but her eyes were just as empty as the man’s. Exhaustion oozed off her.

El studied them more carefully as the soldier who’d spoken to Nexin finally reached them and gestured toward a wagon just now pulling up. Their faces looked nothing alike. Different eye colors. Different builds. No resemblance at all. Not family? So how did they end up together?

But she had no time to ask. With specific orders to return the refugees to headquarters, the four soldiers bustled their charges into a military wagon and waved the crowd back. The horses, jumpy from the crowd around them and the nervous energy in the air, pawed at the cobblestones and shifted in their bridles.

“We’re going to headquarters,” Nexin said, eyes never leaving the wagon as it pulled away.

“The cake?” Laze asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no time today.” He stepped forward and ignited his wings to life.

The crowd, surprised by the sudden appearance of flaming wings in their midst, wisely took a step back. Not that the flames could hurt them, for they each held the Spark, but when a ranking officer of the Firestorm suddenly appeared, getting out of the way was usually the best plan.

“Come on, Laze, we can get cake later,” El said, and ignited her wings while Nexin leapt into the sky.

“Right,” Laze answered with a nod and turned her focus inward. One second stretched to two, to three…four, before her wings burst from her back.

Nexin hovered above them, wings spread and unmoving. El used to think it was weird they didn’t need to flap their wings like birds did. It’s magic, her brother had told her, like that explained everything. Now it was just normal. Barely even felt like magic.

But leaping into the sky, defying gravity as the curved buildings shrank below her and faces blurred, that took her breath away every time. The city spread out like a wildfire below her, buildings of oranges, yellows, and reds in honor of the Pyre at the center of the city. At the center of their lives.

“They aren’t slowing,” Nexin said, watching the wagon speed toward HQ. “The brass must think this is important.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” El asked as Laze joined them in the air.

“Sorry,” Laze said with a blush.

“Don’t be,” El offered, and gave her friend a quick reassuring pat. “You’re getting faster every day.”

“We can talk on the way,” Nexin instructed, then bolted off, small fiery feathers trailing behind before consuming themselves with a fizzle.

Despite his words, Nexin didn’t slow enough to talk, and El and Laze chased him the entire way. They landed in the wide courtyard just as the three refugees vanished into the large main building.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Nexin had barely landed before he was striding after them. The guards at the doors were obviously keeping curious soldiers out, but Nexin’s rank got him a pass. El stuck close to him, and while the guards eyed her, they didn’t try to stop her.

Ahead, the refugees turned into one of the large briefing rooms. The same one she’d received her inaugural mission in. Coincidence? The weight in her gut didn’t seem to think so.

“Sir…” said the guard caught midway closing the door as Nexin approached, his gaze moving to El and Laze. “I’m sorry, sir, strict orders about rank and entry. I can’t let them in with you.”

Nexin eyed the man, then turned to El.

“We’ll wait out here.” El pointed to a nearby bench. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew what was going on.

Her brother gave her a reassuring smile and nodded, then turned and went into the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and the guard took up position beside it.

“Sorry,” the man said, and gave a small shrug. There weren’t many people who didn’t know, and like, her brother.

El waved away the concern and took a seat, Laze sitting down beside her. “What do you think this is all about?” her friend asked.

“Don’t know,” El answered honestly. “Has to be something big if they’ve got guards posted at the doors and are limiting entry by rank.”

“Hey,” Laze called to the guard. “What’s your name?”

“Lhogan,” he answered.

“Do you know what’s going on in there?”

“Even if he did,” El answered before Lhogan could reply, “he’d be under orders not to tell us.”

“That true, Lhogan?” Laze asked, never turning away from the man.

“Partly,” Lhogan answered. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But since I don’t know…” he trailed off.

Laze leaned forward eagerly.

“I still can’t tell you,” the man chuckled good-naturedly.

Laze sighed and sat back. “Why’d you have to say we’d sit here? We could’ve gone for that cake.”

El ignored her friend, and to Lhogan said, “So, one gossipy soldier to another, who’d you see in there?”

Lhogan looked up and down the hall before answering. “Lot of brass. Just saw Brigadier General Cannon and Lieutenant General Vulon go in a minute before your brother did.”

Cannon and Vulon? What an odd combination. Cannon was a mountain of a man whose name was just as much a well-earned nickname as anything else. He’d risen the ranks by blowing things up and winning most battles through sheer brute force. Vulon, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. Probably the most boring-looking woman in the history of history, without a single memorable physical feature, her shrewd mind more than made up for any perceived deficiency. There wasn’t a better tactician. Period.

And the two rarely worked together.

“Why do a trio of refugees from down south warrant the attention of two generals? Shouldn’t they be more concerned with the front line?” El mused aloud.

“Did you hear the rumor?” Lhogan asked, his lips curling in conspiracy.

This time it was El who leaned in. “Do tell.”

“Agree to let me buy you dinner, and it’s a deal,” Lhogan winked.

Laze whistled and leaned back. “Not a good deal. You have no idea how much she eats.”

El turned a withering glare on her friend. Why did everybody have a problem with her healthy appetite? Training burned a lot of calories.

“No problem with me,” Lhogan answered, but his eyes were on El. She hadn’t answered yet.

Not even trying to hide it, she looked him up and down. In good shape, for a soldier, which meant in great shape for most men. Hair was a little longer than she liked, and his face was all hard angles, but not unpleasantly so. An infectious grin, and sharp eyes rounded out his features. One dinner couldn’t hurt.

And if he laid an unwanted hand on her, well, she’d break every bone in his arm.

“One dinner,” she agreed.

“You’ll want a second,” he promised.

“She always wants seconds,” Laze chuckled.

El punched her in the shoulder hard enough her friend almost toppled off the bench. “The rumor?” she asked, turning back to Lhogan.

“Lizard army up north. Ran through the front line at Aldrana.”

“Aldrana? As in Guld’s fort town guarding the only real path through the Icicle Mountains?”

“One in the same.”

“So, what’s that got to do with Salid? Literally the opposite direction.”

“A second lizard army,” Lhogan whispered.