The storm had passed, but the world it left behind seemed carved from silence. Snow lay thick on the branches overhead, bending pine limbs into weary bows. Every sound, every crunch of snow, every breath, felt impossibly loud in the cold morning air. A sky the color of faded steel hung low over the forest, pressing down like a lid trapping them inside.
Ashen walked ahead, movements precise, steps so light they barely disturbed the powder beneath his boots. Habit, discipline, instinct, all of it made him quiet. But he knew his skill meant little against the man hunting them. Ironhand didn't follow trails; he followed fear. He would smell the tension in the air like blood.
Behind him, Lira clung to the hem of his cloak. Her small hand, ice cold even through the fabric, trembled with every step. She had not spoken since they fled the ruined manor. Her breaths came short and quick, no rhythm - just survival. She looked too pale for a child, too hollow. Grief and shock had stripped color and softness from her features, leaving behind a fragile mask.
Ashen slowed, glancing back. "Stay close," he whispered.
She nodded, though the movement was faint, unsteady. Her eyes flicked constantly from tree to tree, as if the forest itself had become a thing that hunted her.
He turned forward, only to stop abruptly.
A line of footprints crossed their path ahead. Deep, wide, and spaced far apart. Too far. Too heavy. Ironhand's stride. The marks punched so deep into the snow that they sank almost to the frozen earth beneath. Ashen crouched and brushed his fingertips against the indentation. Still warm. The snow around it had just begun to refreeze.
Minutes. No more than five.
Lira's hand tightened on his cloak. "Is it him?" Her voice cracked on the last word.
"Yes," Ashen said. He never lied. Not to children. Not about survival.
She drew back, shrinking into herself.
He turned toward her and bent down so their eyes were level. The gesture felt awkward, foreign. Comforting others had never been part of his work. Killing was clean, simple. Protecting was not.
"If I tell you to run, you run," he said quietly. "If I tell you to hide, you hide. Immediately. Don't wait for me."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She managed a tiny nod.
A sharp crack split the forest air.
Ashen rose instantly, blades whispering from their sheaths. The sound had come from their left - too deliberate for an animal, too close for comfort. It was the unmistakable snap of a branch beneath a heavy boot.
The trees around them went still.
Then a voice flowed through them like a cold wind.
"Ashen"
Ironhand's tone was calm, almost conversational, yet it slid like a knife between the trees. The clarity of it meant he wasn't far. Maybe fifty paces. Maybe less.
"You're getting slow," Ironhand continued. His voice moved left, right then left again as if circling them. "I thought you'd be halfway to the border by now. Taking the girl with you…" A dry chuckle. "Bold. Stupid, but bold."
Ashen kept his stance low, eyes scanning the treeline. Ironhand was a mountain of a man, yet he knew how to disappear. That made him more dangerous than any brute.
"What do you want?" Ashen called. His voice was controlled, steady.
A pause. Then: "You took something from me."
Lira pressed her forehead into Ashen's back.
"She is not yours," Ashen said.
Ironhand's voice turned amused. "Everything in Brimewood was the Baron's. And the Baron was mine."
"He's dead," Ashen said.
Silence.
Then, softly, almost fondly: "Yes. And the girl is why I killed him."
Lira gasped, barely audible.
Branches to their right shook. Snow fell in soft cascades. Ashen pivoted toward the sound.
This time Ironhand stepped into view.
He emerged from behind a pine trunk like some mythic creature, enormous and fur-cloaked, shoulders broader than the tree he came from. Snow clung to his dark beard. His right arm was encased from elbow to fingers in the gleaming steel gauntlet that had earned him his name. Thick plates overlapped like the scales of a metal beast.
The gauntlet alone weighed more than some men.
Lira's breath hitched.
Ironhand smiled, a slow, spreading curve of certainty. "Move aside, Silent Knife. Hand over the girl. Her blood finishes what the Baron began."
"No." Ashen shifted, placing himself fully between Ironhand and Lira.
Ironhand's eyebrows lifted. "That's not the response I expected." The giant cracked his neck, sending a dusting of snow slipping from the fur across his shoulders. "You kill for coin. There's none in saving a child."
Ashen said nothing. Words wouldn't stop the man. Only steel would.
Lira tugged his cloak once, a desperate plea, but Ashen gently guided her behind a fallen log. "Stay low," he whispered. "Do not move."
Her eyes shone with fear but she obeyed.
Ironhand watched with amusement. "You're actually protecting her." He gave a humorless laugh. "The Silent Knife growing a conscience. The gods really do have a sense of humor."
He raised his gauntleted fist. The metal glinted wickedly in the pale light. "Very well. I'll kill you first."
He charged.
The snow exploded beneath him as if struck by a battering ram. Ashen darted to the side, faster than most could track. Ironhand's metal fist slammed into a pine tree where Ashen's skull had been an instant before. The trunk split with a crack that echoed through the forest. Splinters erupted outward like thrown knives.
Ashen rolled behind another tree, blades drawn. Ironhand wrenched his fist free from the ruined trunk, scattering debris.
"Still running," the giant growled. "Let's see how long that lasts."
He lunged again. Ashen dodged, slicing a shallow cut across Ironhand's forearm but the blade scraped off metal. Sparks spat from the gauntlet. Useless.
Ironhand swung. Ashen ducked. The fist missed his jaw by inches and shattered a boulder instead.
Lira let out a small, terrified cry from behind the log.
Ironhand heard it.
His eyes snapped toward her hiding place. "There you are."
Ashen moved instantly—not toward Ironhand, but toward Lira. Survival first. Winning later.
He scooped her into his arms and sprinted down the slope, snow spraying in arcs behind him. Ironhand roared and followed.
The forest thundered with pursuit. Branches snapped like brittle bones. Snow fell from the treetops in heavy sheets. Lira clutched Ashen's cloak, burying her face against him.
"Ashen!!!" she choked.
"Hold on."
He leapt over a fallen trunk, feet barely touching the ground. But Ironhand barreled through it, smashing it aside like it weighed nothing.
Trees blurred. The world became speed, breath, survival.
Still Ashen did not look back.
He didn't need to.
The monster was right behind them.