The mountains burned behind them.
Ash spiraled upward in slow, choking tendrils, curling toward the bruised sky like the forest's final breath. The rogue dragon riders of Elyra's homeland had come not as scouts or messengers, but as executioners. Fire had been their warning, and steel their answer.
Elyra's heart thundered beneath her ribs as she stood on the charred edge of the ridge. Below, blackened trees crumbled, and a thick haze rolled over the hills. The sound of wings—great, leathery wings—still echoed in her skull. The shrieks of dragons above them were growing fainter, but that didn't mean safety. It meant distance. Strategy.
"They won't stop," Kael said, appearing beside her. His cloak was scorched, face streaked with soot. "They came to finish what they started. And they know you're alive now."
Elyra didn't respond immediately. Her eyes, red from smoke and grief, remained locked on the horizon. "They burned everything, Kael. Everything I once called home."
"You think they were only after your memories?" His voice was cold, but not cruel. "They were after you, Elyra. You. Not your city. Not your kin. You."
Vespera approached, silent as always. She moved like she wasn't part of the world—like the smoke passed through her without touching her. "Three dragons. One bore the crest of the Obsidian Claw. That's the high command. They know you've turned your back on the throne, Elyra. They won't forgive it."
"I didn't turn my back," Elyra whispered. "I just wanted answers."
"Answers," Vespera said, cocking her head. "Curious thing to trade for a kingdom."
Kael stepped forward, his hand brushing Elyra's shoulder just enough to steady her. "We need to move. We can't fight them—not yet. The dragons... they're hunting us from above. And they're not alone."
That was when they all heard it.
A low, distant cry—not from a beast or a man, but something else. Something more primal. The sound echoed across the scorched land like a pulse of dread. Kael stiffened instantly. Vespera drew her blade, and Elyra felt her soul seize.
"That's not them," Kael muttered. "That's something older."
Vespera narrowed her eyes. "The god of fire is awake."
Elyra turned, stunned. "What?"
Kael's eyes were flint. "You think rogue dragon riders were bad? They're children playing with swords. What's coming... it's the thing buried beneath the Ashen Vale. A god with wings of molten glass and a heart of eternal flame."
"It was never about the throne," Vespera added softly. "It's about the one chained under it."
Elyra's dragon, still weakened from the earlier battle, stirred weakly in the clearing behind them. Its left wing hung limp, scales scorched and blackened. Elyra rushed to its side, pressing her forehead to the dragon's smoky hide. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
The creature made a low, pained rumble in reply.
"We can't save it here," Kael said. "Not while they hunt us. But there's a glade north of here. A sanctuary. Old magic lingers there—strong enough to heal... or hide."
"And you trust this place?" Elyra asked.
Kael didn't blink. "No. But I trust that we don't have a choice."
The three of them moved quickly, sparing no words. The air grew colder as they ascended into the higher woods, branches glistening with ash like silver bones. Elyra's thoughts churned as fast as her feet: her homeland had exiled her, her dragon was dying, Kael was hiding truths darker than the night, and Vespera—
Vespera was watching them both with the eyes of someone who already knew how it all would end.
And still, she said nothing.
At the edge of the glade, Kael stopped. He dropped to one knee and pressed a palm to the earth. The ground shivered under his touch.
"It's open," he whispered. "The barrier's broken. Someone's been here recently."
Vespera drew her blade again, her voice low. "Then we walk into a trap... or we walk into salvation."
"Both," Kael said.
They stepped through the ancient veil of trees—and the world changed.
The sanctuary was not just a place. It was an echo of something older than time. Crystalline vines hung from trees that glowed faintly with internal light, and the air was thick with humming whispers—unseen spirits, waiting. The moment Elyra's dragon entered, the magic clung to its wounds like living threads. Healing had begun, but slowly. Painfully.
Elyra let herself breathe for the first time in hours, but it was shallow.
The war wasn't waiting for them to heal.
The world's end had already begun.