The signal flares from Scoria Point still pulsed faintly in the night sky, but each one was weaker, more frantic. The Ashborn commander Hale wasted no time. His orders snapped like blades: "We ride now. To lose the Beacon is to lose the north."
The caravan split — traders huddling under heavy guard, while Ryan, Kaelin, Lyra, Theron, and a squad of Ashborn riders thundered east across the plains.
The shard inside Ryan's chest pulsed hotter with every stride, tugging him like a compass needle. It knew. Whatever was happening at Scoria Point was tied to the same force that had been chasing him since the Rift.
Kaelin's mare rode knee-to-knee with his, her posture rigid, eyes scanning the horizon. She didn't speak, but her nearness was its own kind of vow. Every time the shard burned too hot, her presence anchored him.
Lyra leaned low in her saddle, her staff across her knees. Sparks flickered along its runes, reacting to something far ahead. "The resonance is spiking. The Beacon's not just failing — it's being eaten."
Ryan's grip tightened on his reins. "Then we stop it before there's nothing left."
Theron laughed, wild and eager. "Finally, a fight worth remembering."
---
The Bridge of Fire
By dawn, they reached the Red Span.
It was a bridge of ancient stone spanning a river of molten rock. Lava glowed beneath like a living furnace, sending waves of heat that singed Ryan's skin even from horseback. The bridge itself cracked and hissed under its own weight, centuries-old wards glowing faintly along its length.
But they weren't alone.
Shadows writhed at the far end of the span, dozens of humanoid forms — Herald thralls, their armor blackened, their eyes burning like embers. And behind them, towering above the bridge's midpoint, coiled something vast.
A Shadow Hydra. Its three heads moved in jagged rhythm, scales dripping with molten tar, each maw glowing with inner fire. It hissed, and the wards beneath the bridge faltered.
Hale swore. "If the bridge falls, Scoria Point is cut off."
Kaelin's hand slid to Ryan's forearm, squeezing once. "Stay with me."
Ryan met her eyes, heart hammering louder than the shard. "Always."
---
Clash at the Red Span
The Ashborn riders surged forward, shields up, their commander bellowing orders. The thralls met them with screams that weren't human, blades clashing against steel.
Ryan, Kaelin, Lyra, and Theron charged straight for the Hydra.
The shard roared in Ryan's chest. He let it burn, flames sparking along his arms, but he kept his focus sharp — not wild. Kaelin darted in front, her silver aura slashing across one of the Hydra's necks. Theron's axe came down with thunder, splitting scales wide.
The beast shrieked, all three heads snapping, jaws belching molten fire.
Ryan dove aside, rolling across the hot stone, the shard flaring just in time to shield him from the blast. The torque at his throat hummed tight — a warning — but he forced the fire outward in a controlled surge.
"Kaelin!" he shouted.
She spun just as he released his flames, wreathing her strike in golden fire. Together, their combined blow cut deep into one of the Hydra's throats, ichor spraying as it howled.
For a heartbeat, the world was nothing but heat, steel, and the sound of her voice.
---
The Edge of Collapse
The Hydra's second head smashed down, cracking the bridge. Lava surged through the fissures below. Stone trembled.
"We don't have long!" Lyra shouted, her wards straining to hold the bridge together. Sweat streaked her face, her staff blazing.
Ryan staggered, vision swimming from the shard's burning rhythm. He nearly fell — but Kaelin's arm hooked around his waist, steadying him.
Her lips were close to his ear, her voice fierce. "Don't you dare fall now. You're mine to protect until this bridge is done."
Her words lit something hotter in him than the shard.
Their eyes met, and the firestorm of the Hydra fell away for a single breath. Then her mouth was on his — hard, desperate, a kiss that tasted of battle and survival.
It was over as fast as it began, her blade already raised again, her eyes sharper than steel. "Now fight," she snapped, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her.
Ryan grinned, fire surging renewed. "With pleasure."
---
The Kill
Together, they struck as one. Kaelin's aura carved the Hydra's final head. Ryan drove the shard's fire through the wound, igniting the beast from the inside out. It convulsed, thrashing, before collapsing across the span in a heap of molten ash.
The bridge held — barely. Cracks spiderwebbed across the stone, lava spitting up through them. But it stood.
The thralls, seeing their Hydra slain, faltered. Hale's riders cut them down without mercy.
The Red Span belonged to them again.
---
Beyond the Bridge
Silence fell. The air reeked of smoke and blood. The Beacon of Scoria Point flickered weakly in the distance, waiting.
Kaelin stood close to Ryan, blade still dripping ichor, her chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. She didn't look at him directly, but her hand brushed his briefly — a ghost of the kiss that had burned between them.
Lyra approached, her eyes on the Beacon. "This isn't over. That Hydra wasn't random. It was guarding something."
Ryan swallowed, his shard pulsing steady now, almost expectant. "The Obelisk."
The group exchanged grim looks. The road ahead burned bright and dangerous.
And Ryan knew one thing: Kaelin's kiss wasn't the end of something. It was the beginning of another fire he wasn't sure he could control.