Page 11 of Ashfall

Rafe runs a hand through his dark hair. “You think it’s him?”

I don’t answer right away. The name has been clawing at my thoughts since yesterday, gnawing at the edges of my control like an ember smoldering under wet ash. Saying it aloud would give it power—make it real. It’s not just history. It’s personal. It’s the monster that nearly took everything from me and left scorch marks on my soul. To even think his name now feels like inviting the past to burn through the present and set fire to everything I’ve rebuilt since.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But Malek’s pattern fits. And if he’s not dead like we thought... then we’ve got bigger problems than fire.”

Kade shifts on his feet, his silence saying more than words. Rafe finally breaks the tension.

“And the fed?” he asks. “She’s in deep. Smart. And stubborn.”

“She’s also mine,” I say simply, the words slipping out with more steel than I meant.

Kade glances at me. “You gonna tell her?”

“When the time’s right.”

“Is that before or after she figures it out on her own?”

I shoot him a look that ends that line of questioning. I can’t afford to slip. Not yet. Ember is already under my skin. Her scent lingers like smoke and citrus, bright and sharp and wild, threading through every breath like a warning and a promise. She’s more than a curiosity. More than a distraction. She grounds me in a way I forgot was possible—pulls the dragon back from the edge without even trying. She’s an anchor I never thought I’d find... and a temptation I can’t afford to lose control around.

“I need to think,” I say, stepping back from the table. “Keep tight. Report if anything changes.”

I leave before they can ask more questions and head for the clearing carved into the ridge—our designated drop and launch point. I shrug off my gear, boots thudding against the packed dirt like a warning to the earth itself. The wind tugs at my shirt, dry and restless, charged with something more than static. I breathe in deep, and the scent of scorched pine and ash floods my lungs. Beneath it, something older stirs.

The pulse of my dragon beats faster with every breath I take, echoing in my chest like a war drum. My skin tingles, the air around me tightening, vibrating with anticipation. Magic hums low and insistent, curling up from the ground, threading through my bones, waiting for permission.

I step to the center of the clearing with slow, practiced movements. The air thickens around me, sharpening with heat and magic as I place each item down in a neat, familiar pile. The wind brushes across my bare skin, already charged with energy, with the fire that lives just beneath the surface. I close my eyes and breathe, steady and deep, grounding myself in the coiled flame at the center of my being. It's there, always—fierce, patient, ancient. Waiting. I open myself to it, give it space to rise.

The ground vibrates beneath my feet, the first tremor of change rippling through me. And then the fire comes.

It begins as a spark in my core, then rushes outward—consuming, revealing. Flame coils around me, not burning but transforming. The fire sings in my blood, wild and ancient, as wings unfurl in a blaze of gold and ember.

I rise, massive and primal, the blaze still licking along my flanks, casting ripples of heat into the sky. My wings unfurl fully—vast, golden, edged in shadow—and beat down with the force of a thunderclap. The air buckles beneath me. Ash and dust whirl outward like a shockwave as my claws leave the earth.Another beat of my wings and I surge upward, slicing through the smoke-heavy sky like a blade through silk. Fire spirals from my nostrils as I climb, fierce and unrelenting, part of the storm I was born to command.

The wind parts around me, streaming past my wings with a sound like distant thunder. Smoke curls below like serpents slithering through the canyons, their movements too precise to be natural. Heat rises in shimmering waves from the charred landscape, distorting the ridgeline. From the air, the full path of the fire becomes undeniable—arcs too perfect, ignitions spaced like symbols. Too clean. Too efficient. Too targeted. It’s not just wildfire down there. It’s a message written in flame, and I’m the one meant to read it.

I veer toward the eastern ridge, sharp eyes scanning for signs. My shadow passes over the terrain far below—cliffs, canyons, deep burns too symmetrical to be random.

And then I see it. A secondary ignition source. New burn. Smaller, but recent.Fresh.Someone’s baiting us.

Memories slam into me: Malek’s last stand, the way his fire tore through a village like vengeance incarnate. The roar of a beast that wanted the world to burn just because he couldn’t have it. I’d watched him fall. Swore I’d ended it.But fire doesn’t lie.

And neither do these marks. The scorched earth here isn't random—it's deliberate. Circular burns etched in a spiral pattern, overlapping just enough to mimic natural spread to the untrained eye. But I see it for what it is. The ash still radiates residual heat, warmer than it should be. There's a sulfuric undertone in the air, acrid and unnatural. Not wildfire. Not even dragon. Someone seeded this fire—to lure, to challenge, and to send a message only our kind would understand.

I bank right, circling once to lock the coordinates into memory. And that’s when I feel it—Eyes.Not hostile. Not supernatural. Human.

My gaze tracks back down and there—just for a second—I see her. Ember. Standing at the edge of a rocky outcropping near camp, her hand shielding her eyes as she stares up.

She doesn’t see me for what I am. Not fully. But she senses it. The flicker of awareness in her posture, the way her gaze lingers in the sky a second too long—it’s all there. And it’s dangerous. Not just because of what she might uncover, but because of what it stirs in me. If she keeps looking, keeps pressing, the truth won’t stay buried. And if she gets too close—emotionally, physically—she won’t just expose me. She’ll unravel me. She feels the wrongness in the air. I’m getting to know that look—the crease in her brow, the stubborn set of her jaw.

She’s close... too close.

I climb higher, pushing against the thermals as the updrafts buffet my wings. The smoke rises in dense columns, curling around me like a veil, cloaking my form from sight. Each beat of my wings sends pulses of heat through the thick air, a soundless roar vibrating down my spine. The sky grows darker as I ascend into the low-hanging clouds, the world below disappearing in a haze of flame and shadow. One more surge of power, and I vanish into the storm-slick sky, nothing but a flicker of gold swallowed by gray.

But the fire below hasn’t finished with her... and neither have I.

CHAPTER 5

EMBER

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