Chapter 114 – Ashes on the Wind
The smoke rose in a thin column, almost invisible against the pale morning sky. Kairo saw it first, pausing at the edge of the ravine. He didn't call out to Elira—he didn't need to. She stepped up beside him, following his gaze to the far slope where the faint thread of grey curled upward from a stand of black pines.
"That's not from a hearth," she murmured. "Too much drift, not enough warmth."
Kairo's jaw tightened. "Signal fire. And not for us."
They stayed low, keeping to the ridge line as they closed the distance. The ground was soft here, the snow thinned and wet, which meant no clean footprints to track them—but also no sound to give them away. The pines grew denser as they neared the source of the smoke, the scent of burning wood shifting to something sharper, metallic.
When they reached the crest, Kairo signaled for Elira to halt. Below them, in a narrow clearing, a camp had been hastily struck—bedrolls half-packed, weapons leaned against tree trunks. And in the center, a fire still burned over the blackened remains of a large wooden crate.
Kairo's eyes locked on the crate's markings. Even from here, he knew them—Feretti's supply seal.
Elira leaned in closer. "They're burning evidence."
"Or destroying bait that's already been taken."
Three men moved around the clearing. None wore Feretti's crest, but their coats were military-cut, their weapons clean and well-oiled. Mercenaries—disciplined enough to look like soldiers, but with no allegiance except to whoever paid most.
Kairo scanned for signs of others. "Three visible. Two more in the trees, likely watching the perimeter."
She gave a thin smile. "So, what's the play?"
"Quiet," he said, eyes never leaving the men. "And quick."
They circled wide, slipping down into the shadows at the base of the ridge. The pine needles underfoot muffled every step. Elira stayed just behind Kairo, her dagger already in hand.
When they were close enough to smell the acrid tang of gun oil, Kairo moved. One hand clamped over the nearest sentry's mouth as the other drew a blade cleanly across his throat. Elira mirrored the motion on her side, her strike swift and silent.
The two by the fire didn't have time to shout before Kairo was on them. His pistol barked once, the shot echoing against the trees. One fell instantly; the other stumbled backward, hand clutching his chest. Elira finished him before he could fire.
Only the man by the crate remained. He dropped his rifle the second Kairo turned toward him, raising both hands. "Wait—wait! I was sent to deliver a message."
Kairo's aim didn't waver. "From who?"
The man's eyes darted nervously between them. "From the one you met in the empty village. He says Feretti's convoy moves tomorrow at dawn. South pass. Only lightly guarded."
"Too generous," Elira said flatly.
"Too convenient," Kairo agreed. He stepped closer, pressing the muzzle to the man's temple. "What's the real catch?"
The mercenary swallowed hard. "They… they know you'll come. They want you to. Feretti will be waiting himself."
Silence hung for a beat, only the crackle of the fire filling it.
Kairo finally pulled back the gun, but his voice was ice. "Tell your employer this—if Feretti's waiting, I'll make sure he dies standing so he can see it coming."
The man bolted the second Kairo stepped aside.
Elira glanced at him. "You let him live?"
"For now," Kairo said, eyes on the burning crate. "The fear will carry our message farther than his body would."
The wind shifted, scattering sparks into the air. Ash drifted upward, swirling between the pines. Kairo watched it rise, his mind already on the South pass.
"Tomorrow at dawn," he said. "It ends."
And in the silence that followed, Elira knew he meant not just Feretti's reign—but the running, the hiding, the life they'd been forced into.