The ruins of Valmyr fell away behind them, swallowed by smoke and shadow.
Elara didn't dare look back. Every breath burned in her lungs, every step sending sharp pain up her legs. The only sound louder than her heartbeat was the distant roar of pursuit — the metallic clatter of armored boots, the guttural shouts of the Legion of Cinders.
"Faster!" Kastor barked, his voice hoarse. He was a blur of motion ahead, leaping over crumbling walls and weaving through streets half-buried in debris.
Serenya moved beside Elara, her breathing steady despite the pace. "The eastern gate," she said. "Once we cross into the Ashlands, their numbers won't matter. Few dare to follow there."
Elara had heard of the Ashlands — a desolate expanse where the ground was black glass and the air shimmered with heat. A place left dead by a firestorm centuries ago, where travelers vanished into mirages and never returned.
She wasn't sure "safer" was the right word.
A horn blasted again, much closer this time. The sound made the stone underfoot tremble. Shadows flickered on the walls as the Legion's vanguard closed the gap.
"They've cut us off!" Kastor shouted from ahead.
Sure enough, at the end of the street, a squad of soldiers in scorched armor emerged, shields locking together in a wall. Behind them, a massive warbeast — half-wolf, half-reptile — strained against a chain, its rows of teeth bared.
"Not that way," Serenya hissed, pulling Elara into a side alley.
They plunged into darkness, the walls pressing in tight. The smell of ash and rot hung heavy. Something scuttled above them, unseen, claws scraping stone.
"Where are we going?" Elara demanded.
"Underground," Serenya said. "There's an old lava duct that leads out past the gates."
Kastor was already prying up a rusted grate. Heat rolled up from below, along with a faint red glow.
"Get in," he ordered.
Elara hesitated. The shard in her pouch thrummed like a heartbeat, almost as if it recognized the air below.
Another horn sounded — this one right on top of them. No time to argue. She dropped into the shaft, landing hard on black stone slick with condensation. Serenya and Kastor followed, sealing the grate above.
They began to move, the narrow tunnel forcing them to walk single file. The heat grew worse the deeper they went, the air heavy and hard to breathe.
"How far does this go?" Elara asked.
"Far enough," Serenya replied.
Kastor glanced back at her. "But not far enough to outrun what's coming."
The words barely left his mouth before a tremor shook the tunnel. From behind them came a sound like steel claws raking glass — sharp, steady, and far too fast.
"They sent Hunters into the ducts," Serenya said grimly.
The shard's heat spiked. The whisper in Elara's mind grew clearer, almost urgent now.
Beneath the black glass, the flame is free.
She didn't know what it meant, but a shiver ran down her spine.
Ahead, the tunnel split in two. Serenya chose the left without hesitation.
"What's the right path?" Elara asked as they ran.
Kastor's jaw tightened. "The right path… leads to the Vault of Embers."
"And what's that?"
"A place where things are locked away for a reason," Serenya said. "And where no one who enters comes back out."
Behind them, the scraping grew louder. Closer.
Elara gripped the shard, its red light bleeding through her fingers.
If they were going to survive the Ashlands… she might have to listen to its voice completely.