Ashes of the Forgotten
Chapter 25: Ashes of the Forgotten
The forest grew denser with every step.
Marissa and Mason moved quickly but carefully, weaving between gnarled roots and massive trunks that loomed like ancient sentinels. The Hollow Veil had protected them, but its magic was thinning like smoke clinging to the last embers of a dying fire. Every rustle of leaves made Marissa's heart skip. Every whisper of wind seemed to carry Victor Rellin's mocking voice.
They had no map, no guide. Only Mason's instincts and the thin thread of hope pulling them forward.
Hours blurred together. The sun dipped low, bleeding a muted crimson through the tangled canopy. Marissa's legs ached, her lungs burned, but she didn't slow. She wouldn't leave Mason to face this alone.
Finally, they reached the edge of a ravine. Below, jagged rocks cut through the earth like broken teeth, and mist curled from its depths.
"This is it," Mason said, voice hoarse. "The meeting place."
Marissa stared at him. "The others... you're sure they'll come?"
"They have to," he said quietly. "It's the only place left where the old bonds still hold."
He pulled a small, twisted piece of metal from his pocket a token, blackened and bent, engraved with a symbol Marissa didn't recognize. Mason closed his eyes and pressed it to the ground.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the earth thrummed beneath them low, like the heartbeat of something ancient and buried.
Shapes began to materialize through the mist. Not enemies. Not monsters.
People.
One by one, figures emerged. Weathered, cautious, but alive. Each bore the same haunted look in their eyes, the same scars carved deep into their souls. Survivors.
Among them was a girl with hair like wildfire, a boy whose arms shimmered faintly with silver veins, an older man whose face seemed stitched together by time itself.
They gathered around Mason and Marissa in a rough circle, silent.
Finally, the girl with the wildfire hair spoke. "You made it."
Mason nodded. "Barely."
The boy with silver veins stepped forward. His voice was low, wary. "You brought someone."
He meant Marissa.
Mason placed himself slightly in front of her, protective without thinking. "She's with me. She knows enough already. She chose to stay."
The survivors exchanged glances. A silent conversation passing between them.
Then the older man the stitched one gave a slow nod. "We owe him our lives. If he trusts her, we will too."
Relief loosened Marissa's tight chest. But it was short-lived.
"We don't have much time," Mason said. "Victor's found a way to pierce the Veil. He's coming."
Murmurs rippled through the group, heavy with fear.
The girl with the wildfire hair stepped closer. "Then we do what we should have done years ago. We finish this."
Marissa looked around, realizing the grim truth none of them expected to survive this fight. They were gathering not to run, but to make a final stand.
"Tell me what to do," she said, her voice steady.
Mason turned to her, eyes full of something fierce and bright pride, maybe. Or love.
"We stand together," he said. "And we burn their darkness to the ground."
The mist shifted again.
A tremor ran through the earth stronger this time, angrier. The air itself seemed to hum with warning.
Victor Rellin wasn't waiting anymore.
Marissa took Mason's hand, feeling the thundering beat of his pulse against her skin.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.
The ravine echoed with a sound like distant thunder but it wasn't thunder. It was the roar of something waking. Something ancient.
Something furious.
The survivors braced themselves, the last embers of the forgotten rising against the storm.
And Marissa, for the first time, understood:
This was not just about survival.
It was about reclaiming what had been stolen.
Their freedom.
Their humanity.
Their future.
As the first shadowed figure crested the ravine's edge, Mason whispered to her, fierce and certain.
"Stay close. No matter what."
Marissa tightened her grip on his hand.
"I'm not letting go," she said.
Not now. Not ever.
The final battle had begun.