Page 139 of Ashes of Honor

There was an uneasy silence between the puffs of breaths as the troops awaited my command. We’d been prepared for the change of weather but with only half of the men and women here accustomed to cold climates, this would present us with a new test of adaptability. No more fires. No more chances for additional warmth from this point on.

Across the river, the outline of Hickman, Kentucky, rose as a faint image against the swirling snow. From what I could tell it was nothing more than a skeletal silhouette of crumbling stone.

I waved us on and we began our slow approach across. It took every ounce of self-control not to turn back. From here, our group would officially split into two—Riley and Hunter’s hanging back a day. With their force being the smaller of the two and taking the brunt of Ronan’s forces down the line, it was essential they avoided any initial skirmishes. But without Elliot, there was no longer a way to stay connected, to know what was happening with Riley and Abel. The only thing I could do was hope that my plans continued to work out.

I had to admit—there were some nerves leading up to approaching the wards. Yes, I’d thought things through when I’d volunteered myself. No, I had not considered how heavy the decision would drain me when the time came.

I didn’t want to forget. The beautifully painful life I had lived. The love I had found in every form, carved from sorrow and grief.

Memory loss was only part of the risk. For months, I had conserved my magic, waging my flames carefully. They simmered beneath my skin, desperate for release, the pressure of restraint pressing in from all sides. I was lucky I hadn’t gone mad.

Once I crossed this border, it was air magic and weapons only. Restraint and control—my only allies now.

Each soldier had orders to conserve their magic. If we came across any Covert troops with numbers that put us at a disadvantage, we’d toss our shields up. Thing was, there was a 100 percent chance Ronan had similar technology—which meant both sides would spend time breaking through them.

Wasting magic unnecessarily could mean running out under less than desirable circumstances. And as much as I hated tosay it, not everyone here had magic to spare. They all fought honorably, but when it came to a number on the power scale, some would run out before others.

Our shields would have as many layers as responsibly possible for the fight at hand. With the uncertainty on all things Covert and Ronan, our best chance was for our troops to catch them off guard—something that would be incredibly hard to do the second they realized we’d successfully breached their wards. If I had to guess, Ronan knew we were close, but had confidence that once we crossed, we’d have no recollection on who we were, let alone our mission. The second our presence was sensed, the territory would go on alert and scouts would be everywhere. That meant trouble.

Static pulsed through the air, the electric warning to back the fuck up getting stronger the nearer we drew. From where we stood, it was a vast nothingness stretching ahead.

Fingers brushed against mine—the only indication of intimacy Alexiares had dared to provide since Reina had made a confession on his behalf. I paused when the pushback from the invisible wall of wards became overwhelming.Here. Curtains and layers of black hung off Lola’s wiry frame as she made her way to my side, Lilia in hand.

I ran through the plan internally once more. Me first, testing the wards, then a small strike team under my command would follow, securing the path before Reina’s cavalry unit moved in to escort the civilians. Once they were clear, the main force would advance in staggered formations, maintaining steady intervals to avoid bottlenecks or conflict with civilians.

“Ready for another one of your stupid plans?” Tomoe asked, appearing next to Alexiares, her focus torn between me and the world beyond the wards.

“Always,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could force. She rolled her eyes, muttering something barely audible, but atwitch at the corner of her lips hinted at a smile she was trying to hide.

The weather outside might have been frightening but so was the temperature building underneath my weatherproof coat. Sage approached with thebrujasin tow.

I had an audience now. Thousands of soldiers spanned into the distance, a sea of bodies flanking both sides of the river.

The coven joined hands with Tomoe and Sage, forming a loose circle with Lilia at the cusp of the wards. Their magic was raw and wild, gifted by a world broken and reforged in chaos. Sparks of energy crackled at their feet.

Low murmurs filled the air, building into a chant. The cadence was sharp. Rhythmic. Laced with Latin that commanded the wards to obey.

Lola tilted her head, her midnight eyes locking onto mine with an unnerving stillness. “It is time.”

Sniffling, I nodded in response, fingers clenching and unclenching as I carefully placed well practiced bravado into my features. When I felt steady enough to get on with the show, I approached Lilia, wanting to express more gratitude than words could find me at the moment. Instead, I kept it as simple as I could, “Thank you.”

“Free my people, Amaia.” The connotation of her tone was from someone wiser beyond the years they had lived. “Make the suffering stop.”

A brave little girl who had seen far too much. What a sad reality it was for more than I was comfortable thinking of in a time like this—now was the time to make sure the suffering of many, ended here.

Her lips curved in a faint smile, and she pressed a hand to her chest in acknowledgment. Around us, the wards let out a deep groan, the sound of something ancient and impenetrable beginning to fracture.

Alexiares loomed over me, his expression carved from stone, every ounce of vulnerability locked away. But there it was—the smallest crack. A flicker in his hazelnut eyes as he leaned in, close enough to draw in my scent, his breath brushing against my cheek. His hands moved with deliberate care, tightening the holster on my thigh. Without a word, he slid one of his knives into the narrow gap, the cool steel a quiet reassurance.

“Right behind you, Princess,” he murmured.

The wards crackled as I stepped through, the sharp static slicing through the roaring thunder of my heartbeat. One moment, I could hear the muffled rustle of troops behind me; the next, silence pressed against my ears. The world on the other side wasn’t just different—it was unnervingly wrong. The air was heavier, the light dimmer, and the town stretched out in eerie stillness.

My pulse quickened as I scanned my surroundings. Hickman, Kentucky—or what was left of it—lay in eerie silence. A ghost town. Buildings leaned under the weight of decay, their windows empty sockets staring back at me. The streets, littered with debris, looked untouched by human hands for years. But it was a lie.

Fresh footprints were everywhere. Overlapping paths of crisscrossed steps that went all the way down the dust-covered streets. They went deep, as though someone had been running. My skin prickled, every nerve screaming the same warning: we were being watched.

I reached for the knife Alexiares had given me, my fingers brushing its hilt. A small amount of comfort after willingly thrusting myself into the unknown.You’re a fucking genius, Amaia. Dumbass, I scolded myself.

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