The sun didn't set in the Ashlands; it just suffocated.
The grey sky bruised into a deep, toxic purple as night fell. With the darkness came the cold. It was a biting, unnatural chill that seeped through Elara's torn silk dress and settled in her bones.
She had been dragging Ciro for two hours.
Her hands were blistered. Her shoulders screamed in agony. The Jester was dead weight, his boots leaving deep furrows in the radioactive dust.
"Just... leave me," Ciro mumbled, his voice delirious. He drifted in and out of consciousness. "Save yourself... Princess."
"Shut up," Elara panted, gritting her teeth. "I am not taking orders from a clown."
She saw a shape in the gloom ahead. It wasn't a rock. It was too geometric. A metal box, half-buried in the side of a trash-dune. It looked like the cargo container of some ancient transport ship that had crashed centuries ago.
"There," Elara gasped.
She dragged him to the rusted hatch. It was sealed tight, corroded by years of exposure.
Elara slammed her Gauntleted fist against the wheel lock. The servos whined—the battery was dead, but the mechanical gears inside still offered leverage. She put her entire body weight into it.
SCREECH.
The metal protested, screaming as the rust gave way. The hatch popped open, exhaling a puff of stale, dry air.
Elara shoved Ciro inside, then scrambled in after him, pulling the hatch shut just as the wind began to howl outside.
Total darkness.
"Light," Elara whispered, hoping the Gauntlet had a spare spark.
Nothing happened.
She fumbled in Ciro's belt pouches, her hands shaking. She found a small metal cylinder—a chem-light. She cracked it.
A soft green glow illuminated their shelter. It was a cramped metal box, empty except for some rotting crates. But it was out of the wind.
Elara turned to Ciro. In the green light, he looked like a corpse. His skin was grey, sweat beading on his forehead. The bio-foam had stopped the bleeding, but the wound was ugly—a purple and black bruise spreading across his ribs where the wrench had hit him.
"Water," Ciro rasped.
Elara checked his belt. A small canteen. It was half full.
She lifted his head, cradling it in her lap. She brought the canteen to his lips. He drank greedily, coughing as the water hit his throat.
"Slowly," she scolded gently, wiping his chin with her thumb.
Ciro opened his eyes. The sharp, killer instinct was gone, replaced by a hazy vulnerability. He looked at her—at her ruined hair, the dirt on her face, the blood on her dress.
"You look terrible, Your Highness," he whispered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"You look worse, Jester," she shot back.
She set the canteen down. "I need to check the wound. The foam is just a sealant. If the bone shifted..."
"Don't touch it," Ciro hissed as her fingers hovered over his chest. "If you move the rib, it punctures the lung again. Game over."
"Then what do I do?" Elara demanded, frustration bubbling up. "I don't know how to fix assassins! I know how to embroider and play the harp!"
Ciro let out a dry chuckle that turned into a cough. "Useless skills."
"They were the skills required for a Queen!"
"A Queen implies a Kingdom," Ciro murmured, closing his eyes again. "We are in the grave, Elara. There are no Kingdoms here."
Elara looked at the shivering man in her lap. She looked at the green chem-light casting long shadows on the rusted walls.
No Kingdom?
She looked at the white Gauntlet on her hand. Even dormant, it felt heavy with purpose.
"Then I will build one," she whispered.
Suddenly, the Gauntlet vibrated.
It wasn't a combat pulse. It was a low, steady thrum. The blue gemstone flickered, drawing residual ambient energy from the radiation in the air.
A small, glitchy holographic map projected onto the ceiling of the container.
[SYSTEM REBOOT: SAFE MODE] [LOCATION: SECTOR 4 - THE JUNKYARD] [OBJECTIVE: SURVIVAL]
A red dot blinked on the map, pulsing about twenty miles to the west.
[NEAREST POWER SOURCE DETECTED] [TARGET: THE CITY OF GLASS BONES] [STATUS: DORMANT / ABANDONED]
Ciro opened one eye, looking at the map.
"Glass Bones," he wheezed. "It's a myth. A Scavenger fairy tale. A city made of crystal where the Old Kings slept."
"The map says it's real," Elara said, tracing the red dot with her finger. "And it says there is power there. If there is power, I can recharge the Gauntlet. I can use the fabricators. I can make medicine."
She looked down at Ciro.
"I can save you."
Ciro looked at the map, then at her. The skepticism in his eyes warred with something else. Hope? Or just exhaustion?
"Twenty miles," Ciro muttered. "Through the Beast Territory. We won't make it."
"We will," Elara said firmly. She tore a strip of silk from the bottom of her dress. She began to bind his chest tightly, stabilizing the ribs.
Ciro gritted his teeth, groaning in pain, but he didn't stop her.
"Why?" Ciro asked through the pain. "Why didn't you leave me? You have the map. You have the weapon. I'm just a liability now."
Elara finished the knot. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under the bandages.
"Because you jumped," she said softly. "Everyone else watched me fall. My father. The court. The gods. You were the only one who jumped."
She leaned back against the cold metal wall, exhaustion finally claiming her. She kept one hand on the Gauntlet, and the other resting near Ciro's shoulder.
"Sleep, Wolf," Elara commanded. "Tomorrow, we hunt for a city."
Ciro watched her until her breathing evened out.
"Stubborn woman," he whispered into the darkness.
He closed his eyes. Outside, the wind howled like a hungry animal. Something massive and heavy footsteps thudded past their shelter, shaking the ground.
Something was hunting.
But for tonight, they were safe.