The moment Elara emerged from the lava ducts, she thought the world had shattered.
The ground stretched endlessly in all directions — not earth, not stone, but smooth, black glass, fractured in places into razor shards that caught the light of a dying sun. Heat rose in shimmering waves, bending the horizon until the far-off spires looked like broken spears piercing the sky.
She stepped forward cautiously. The glass crunched under her boots, the sound far too loud in the open silence. There was no wind, no rustle of leaves, no bird song — only the faint hiss of heat escaping the cracks in the ground.
"Welcome to the Ashlands," Serenya said, her voice flat. She tightened the scarf around her face and pulled her hood low. "Stay close. The air plays tricks here."
Kastor emerged from the duct behind them, wiping sweat from his brow. "We keep moving until nightfall. If we stop, we die. Simple as that."
Elara swallowed hard. She wanted to ask what exactly kills you out here, but the look in his eyes told her she didn't want the answer.
They began walking east, toward a jagged formation of black spires that rose like the teeth of some buried beast. The heat bit at her skin, and every breath tasted of ash. Beneath the glass, faint red veins pulsed, as if the earth itself still carried a molten heartbeat.
The shard in her pouch grew warm again. She pressed a hand to it, feeling its rhythm match her own.
Hours passed without change — the same cracked plains, the same endless horizon. Yet more than once, she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye — a flicker of shadow, a figure far away that vanished when she turned her head.
"Do you see that?" she asked Serenya quietly.
"See what?" Serenya didn't look at her. "Don't name it. If you speak of it, it listens."
Elara's skin prickled.
By the time the sun began to sink, painting the glass in streaks of blood-red light, they reached the edge of the spire field. Each spire was the height of a tower, their edges sharp enough to split stone. The air between them felt cooler, but heavier — as if the shadows themselves had weight.
"Through here," Kastor said.
The spires narrowed into a corridor, their sharp faces reflecting distorted images of the three travelers. Elara caught glimpses of herself in the black mirror — only sometimes, her reflection was smiling when she wasn't.
They reached a clearing at the center of the spires. That was when Elara realized they weren't alone.
A figure stood at the far edge, its back turned to them. The figure was slender, draped in rags the color of smoke. Its hair — if it was hair — drifted upward as if underwater.
Elara froze. Something about the shape of its shoulders, the angle of its head —
"Mother?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
The figure turned.
Her breath caught. It was her mother's face — the same gentle eyes, the same faint smile she remembered from before the fire. She took an involuntary step forward.
"Elara," the woman said softly, her voice like warm rain. "You've come so far. Come to me."
"Elara, stop!" Serenya's voice was sharp. She grabbed her arm, but Elara shook her off.
"She's alive," Elara said, her eyes fixed on the woman. "She survived. She's right there."
The woman extended her hand. "Come. Let's go home."
Something in Elara's mind screamed that this wasn't right. Her mother was dead. She had seen the flames take her. But the warmth in that voice, the kindness in those eyes —
Then the shard in her pouch pulsed violently, and the air around the woman shimmered like a heat mirage. For an instant, Elara saw what stood there — a formless, ash-gray wraith, its mouth a vertical split of jagged teeth, its eyes pits of molten gold.
She stumbled back, heart hammering. "That's not her!"
The wraith hissed, its voice splitting into a dozen whispers at once. It lunged, the shadows around it twisting into long, glass-like claws.
Kastor was already moving. His blade flashed, striking the wraith's arm. The thing screeched — not in pain, but in fury. Its body dissolved into smoke and scattered between the spires.
The air stilled.
"What was that?" Elara gasped.
"Ash Wraith," Serenya said, scanning the shadows. "They wear the faces you most want to see. And if you follow, they lead you into the glass chasms where you vanish forever."
Elara's knees felt weak. She wanted to say she wouldn't have followed, but she wasn't sure that was true.
Kastor pointed to the horizon. "We move. More will come now that it's scented us."
As they left the clearing, Elara glanced back once. The spires loomed in silence, and for a moment she swore she saw her mother's reflection watching her from the glass.