Ash on the Wind

Ardenthollow lay down the road, its path a scar of blackened stone across the wasteland's white expanse. Snow flurries spun in the twilight's early hours as Ren pushed on, the Oracle's warning still ringing in his ears.

Liora.

The third vessel. The most powerful of them. And perhaps the most shattered.

"She escaped Ashborn's grasp," Ren reminded himself. "But at what price?

He didn't notice Sera falling into stride beside him until she bumped his shoulder lightly.

"You're brooding again," she said.

Ren smirked faintly. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're not exactly subtle. What's going on?"

He hesitated, eyes locked ahead on the barely-visible mountain pass. "It's just… what if finding her breaks more than it fixes? What if she's too far gone?"

"You weren't," Sera said quietly. "Neither was Ace. So don't write her off before we've even seen her face."

Behind them, Kairo studied his notes, muttering arcane phrases under his breath. Kaela walked close to the tree line, blades drawn and ready, while Ace remained unusually quiet, the blue ember in his palm glowing faintly.

They traveled for hours in silence.

But then… the wind changed.

Ren froze, his senses on high alert. He detected the smell of smoke—another's—searing his nostrils.

"Smoke," he warned them.

Kaela was already crawling over a small ridge. She dropped into a crouch, motioned them forward, and gestured into the clearing below.

A wagon was ablaze in the snow, wheels broken, crates overturned. A small caravan, by appearance—merchants or pilgrims. But they were not alone.

Six figures danced through the wreckage, clad in robes darkened as if they were ink-stains, symbol-scored in otherworldly markings Ren could not decipher. One tugged on a man's collar, slashing a blade over his throat.

Sera whispered. "Cultists."

"No sigils of Ashborn," Kairo replied. "This is otherwise."

"They're after something," Kaela guessed, scowling. "Or someone."

Ren's belly growled.

Liora?

He didn't tarry. Fists wreathed in blue fire he leaped over the ridge.

"Ren—aw, come on!" Kaela swore and went on.

There was no time for the cultists to get a response. Ren plummeted out of the snow in a starburst pattern of impact, his aura burning bright and exploding ice in a five-foot circle. He punched his fist through the lead attacker's chest—through and into the nearest tree with an unspeakably sickening crunch.

"Blue Flame!" someone shrieked in horror. "He's one of them!"

Kaela was slicing through another person's legs already. Sera sliced to the side, slicing through clothes and muscle with surgical precision. Kairo hissed a spell that burst out as a wave of white fire, reducing two cultists to ash on the flaming wagon.

Ace strode into battle calmly, his palm glowing.

"Sleep," he whispered.

A blue wave of magic issued from him, and the last cultist fell to the ground, flailing its sword wildly.

The fight took less than a minute.

When it was complete, Ren stood in the glow of the flames, gasping, hands aching. The man who had been gripped by the cultist—an older merchant—shivered against the trunk of a tree.

"Who were they?" Ren bellowed.

The man shook his head wildly. "I—I don't know! They appeared out of nowhere. Asked us if we'd seen a girl with fire in her eyes. Said she was 'divine-born.' When I said no, they killed Jarin and stole our rations!"

Ren's hands were bunched into fists. "Liora. They're after her too."

Ace stepped forward. "They weren't Ashborn's. Their magic was. older.".

Kairo knelt beside one of the bodies, examining the markings burned into the robe's edge.

"I've seen this before," he murmured. "In ancient texts. These are symbols of the Veilborn."

"Veilborn?" Kaela echoed. "Thought they were a myth."

"Cultists obsessed with balance," Kairo said. "They believe the vessels disrupt the natural order. They're zealots. Dangerous, organized, and fanatically committed."

Ren's eyes burned with renewed fire. "So we're not just fighting Ashborn anymore."

"No," Sera said grimly. "Now we're running out of time on both ends."

They buried the dead that night.

The fire crackled low as snow continued to fall, blanketing the corpses in stillness. Ren sat apart from the others, staring into the flames.

Ace joined him.

"You're thinking about her again."

Ren nodded. "If the Veilborn find her first…"

"They won't," broke in Ace. "We'll catch up with her. And if she's as us, she'll feel you coming."

Ren whirled around. "How did you make it through?" he whispered. "Being bound to something so. enormous. So furious."

Ace smiled wryly. "I didn't. Not really. Somewhere deep in me, though, I'm still seething every other second. But I used anchors. A purpose. A crowd. Those kept me sane."

Ren gazed into the fire, where Sera and Kaela smiled in silence over a shared flask.

"Then I suppose I'd better hold on."

They departed before dawn.

Spires pierced the horizon at noon—sharp and steep, slicing the mist like knives. It was a city of spires and secrets, full of sinners and saints.

But Ren's fire flared uncertainly as they drew near.

Something was wrong.

Sera noticed it first. "Ren?".

His eyes went cloudy—blue flame erupted up his arms, chattering wildly. The fire was unsteady, beating too quickly. Too erratically.

"I—I can't—"

He fell.