Ashes in the Spiral (1)

The bell of Kyreth Keep tolled five times at dawn, each clang a mourning echo over a world no longer still. Word of the black Spiral's emergence had spread faster than flame through parchment. The elders no longer whispered in corners. They shouted, argued, and prayed. And somewhere deep in the cold, echoing halls of the keep, Lynchie could feel the Spiral churning inside her like a storm begging for release.

She had not slept. Every time she closed her eyes, the vision returned: the black Spiral opening beneath the cliffs, not as a symbol but as a wound. A hole torn in the weave of magic. Its pull wasn't just power—it was hunger. An ancient will, long starved.

"They're moving," Vyen said grimly, stepping into the chamber where Lynchie stood alone. He wore the black-and-copper robes of High Spiral Watch, a glyphblade strapped across his back. "The Mirror-Spoken have breached the warding line at Coldmere. A full incursion."

Lynchie turned slowly. Her expression was unreadable, but the Spiral sigil along her collarbone glowed faintly—an unconscious reaction to the tension in the Spiral field. "Then we're out of time."

Vyen hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else—something not for command or clarity. Instead, he nodded. "Zev's leading the vanguard. You should speak to him before you depart. He asked for you."

That made her blink. "Why?"

"Because whatever he's keeping hidden, he knows he won't survive unless you know it too."

The words stuck like barbs. She descended the eastern stairs toward the wardfields, boots ringing against cold stone, breath blooming into fog. Soldiers passed her in rushed steps, armor only half-buckled, faces taut with the knowledge of first battle. War had no ceremony. Only inevitability.

She found Zev in the armory, adjusting the Spiral cuffs around his forearms. His eyes lifted as she approached, and for once, the guarded cynicism was gone.

"You came," he said.

Lynchie folded her arms, leaning against the stone arch. "I usually do."

A flicker of a smile. But he sobered quickly. "There's something I didn't tell you. About the black Spiral."

Her breath caught, but she masked it. "Go on."

"It's not a place. It's a being. A mind. The Spiral itself isn't neutral. It was broken once—shattered in the Sundering. What you saw wasn't just awakening... it was remembering. And it remembers me."

Lynchie felt her stomach drop. The world around them narrowed. "Then you're connected to it?"

He nodded. "I was part of the failed binding circle. Seventeen years ago. We tried to seal it. We failed. And it marked us. I fled before it could consume me... but others didn't."

The implications struck her like a blow. "The enemy leaders. They're the rest of your circle."

Zev's silence was answer enough.

The room buzzed with tension. She stepped closer. "Then you don't fight them as a soldier. You fight them as a brother."

He met her gaze, raw and unflinching. "And I need you to kill me if it wins. If it takes me. Promise me."

She didn't speak for a long moment. Then, softly: "No. I don't promise that. I promise I'll bring you back. Even if the Spiral breaks around us."

A call to arms echoed down the corridor. The battle had begun.

They walked together into war, uncertain allies, spirals of light and shadow converging with every step. And behind them, deep in the bones of the keep, the black Spiral opened one eye and smiled.