The sky above the ruined capital was thick with smoke, turning the sun into a dying ember. Medora Calder stood at the ridge overlooking the charred remains of Verandor, another city claimed by Darius Vane. Her cloak, once navy blue, now carried the soot of too many losses. Behind her, a band of worn and hardened rebels awaited orders.
"Scouts say he's moving east," said Renna, her second-in-command. "Toward the coast. Toward the temples."
Medora's jaw clenched. "He's getting closer to it- the Heart."
They didn't speak of the artifact often. It had a name like a legend, but the destruction in Darius's wake proved it was real. And if he found it first, the world wouldn't survive.
"Then we cut him off," Renna said. "We can reach the coastline before him if we ride through the Ashfold Valley."
Medora turned from the ridge. The charred wind carried the faint stench of burning oil and scratched flesh- Verandor's funeral pyre. She stared at her lieutenant, gauging the grim resolve in her face. Ashford was dangerous ground, haunted by half-sunken roads and things that didn't stay dead.
"We don't have the numbers," Medora said. "Not for a head-on strike. And if we split the face-"
"We'll lose more cities."
A beat of silence passed between them. Behind them, the others shifted restlessly. Horses snorted, weary and underfed. Armor clinked, dulled with grime. They were tired. All of them. But still they followed her.
Medora looked back at the burning remains of Verandor. She couldn't see the palace anymore- just a hollow shell in the smoke. She remembered standing in its high tower, years ago, watching the river glint below, believing it would always stand.
"He's not just burning cities anymore," she murmured. "He's looking for something specific."
"The Heart?" Renna asked.
Medora nodded slowly. "The temples are old. Older than most think. If it's hidden anywhere, it'll be there."
"We could intercept him at the eastern watch line. If we move fast."
"No," Medora said, voice distant. Her fingers curled at her sides. "We go to the temple first. We find it before he does."
Renna raised an eyebrow. "You think you can find the Heart?"
"I don't think," Medora said, her voice low, almost ashamed. "I know."
She turned and strode past her second-in-command, past the tired fighters and worn blades. The words had surprised even her- slipping out the truth from an old wound. A memory pressed against the edge of her mind: a golden room, a stone pedestal, and a boy with silver eyes whispering her name.
She shoved it away. Now wasn't the time.
"Talon," she called to the mage trailing the rear. "How fast can you draw a warding circle string enough to get us through Ashfold?"
The young man blinked, startled. "Through Ashfold? Gods, Medora. It's crawling with wraiths."
"Then we'll bring fire."
Talon opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, and just nodded.
Medora mounted her horse, gripping the reins tightly as the others began to move. They would ride east before dawn. Toward the coast. Toward the temples. Toward the answers she'd buried in ash and time.
The wind shifted. Somewhere in the burning ruins below, a bell tolled- a twisted sound warped by heat and distance. A sound of warning. Or of something waking.
Medora didn't look back.
As they descended the ridge, the world around them shifted from scorched ruin to skeletal forest. The trees were blackened husks, limbs clawing at the sky like the hands of the dead. Ash folded into their path, soft as snow, muffling the clink of their gear and the tired breath of the horses.
"Feels like a grave," Talon muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It is," Bryn replied. The former spy rode at the rear, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Darius left no one breathing."
Medora said nothing. She could still feel the heat of the burning city on her skin, like a phantom touch. This wasn't the first ruin they'd passed, but something about Verandor lingered. Maybe it was the way the flames had danced, or the silence of the survivors- or maybe it was the strange pulse beneath her ribs, growing stronger the closer they drew to the east.
She wasn't ready to name it. Not yet.
Renna pulled her horse alongside. "You meant what you said up there. You think you can find the Heart."
Medora didn't answer immediately. Instead, she glanced at her glove, the leather worn thin over the curve of her palm. Beneath it, a mark she hadn't dared show them- not since the dreams began again. Not since Darius started calling her name in the night.
"I think it's drawing both of us," she said finally. "Him faster than me. But I've seen it in my sleep. I've walked the path before."
Renna's brow furrowed. "When?"
"When I was someone else."
The words startled even her.
They rode on in silence after that, save for the rhythmic plod of hooves and the occasional groan of shifting trees. By nightfall, they reached the edge of the Ashfold Valley. The land dropped sharply into a basin of silver fog and blackened stone. Ruined waystones jutted from the earth like broken teeth, and beyond them: nothing but shadow and stillness.
"Set up camp," Medora ordered. "We'll enter at first light."
Bryn dismounted without comment. Renna issued quiet commands to the others. Talon paced the perimeter, already tracing the air with flickers of light as he began weaving protective sigils.
Medora moved to the edge of the valley, staring down into the dark. The fog moved strangely, as if breathing. She felt the pull again- gentle at first, then insistent. It wasn't just memory. It was something alive. Something waiting.
"You're close," said a voice behind her.
She turned sharply- blade halfway drawn- only to find Eshan, silent as ever, standing just beyond the firelight. His dark eyes reflected the flames, unreadable as always.
"You've felt it too," she said.
Eshan nodded once. "It calls to you."
"You think I'll answer?"
"I think you already have."
He stepped back into the dark without another word, leaving her alone with the wind and the weight in her chest. Medora stayed at the edge until the fire died down behind her, until the valley below fell still again.
She didn't pray. There were no gods left to answer. Only the choices she'd already made- and the ones still coming.
Tomorrow, they'd ride into Ashfold. And if the valley didn't kill them, the truth might.