Page 38 of Ashfall

CHAPTER 18

DAX

The clearing is thick with heat, tension, and the lingering scent of her lips on mine. My body is still keyed to her, blood pumping in rhythm with hers, like we haven’t quite detached. For a second, I’m suspended—half in the moment we just shared, half already reaching for the threat I know is coming. But my instincts change fast—desire smothered by dread.

I drag in a breath, clench my fists, and roll my shoulders, forcing focus over the rising tide of emotion like steel locking into place. The last of Ember’s heat still lingers on my skin, but I shove it back, burying instinct beneath discipline. There’s no room for softness now—not when the sky is darkening with war. The second Kade delivers his warning, it slices through my control like a blade.

“Malek has abandoned his lair,” he says, his jaw clenched.

I don’t flinch. But inside, fire coils low in my gut, tightening like a noose, burning with a fury that’s too still, too precise. He’s not hiding—he’s staging. Every move has been methodical, meant to mislead, to bait. This isn’t improvisation. This is a script. And we’ve followed it straight to the final act. The pattern’s too familiar, too rehearsed, the echoes of past battleshumming beneath the surface. We’ve run out of time—and the bastard knows it. He’s orchestrating the endgame. And we’ve just walked onto the stage.

"Take to the air. Sweep the ridge and flanks. Rafe knows the signal patterns. You see anything—send a flare into the sky. Don’t engage alone."

Kade nods once, eyes flicking skyward, then turns and sprints into the tree line. I catch a flash of movement—his body bursting into flame, disappearing in a pulse of light. A second later, his dragon form erupts from the canopy, wings slicing the air, scales gleaming like obsidian, kissed by lightning. He banks once, catching an updraft, and vanishes into the clouds, a sentinel already on the hunt.

I turn to Ember. Her eyes meet mine—still fierce, still lit with the same fire that nearly undid me just minutes ago. But there’s steel beneath the heat now, something sharpened by instinct and purpose. She gives a curt nod, jaw set. Whatever comes next, she’s not just ready—she’s with me.

"Let’s go."

The federal relay station juts from the rock wall above the basin, hunched and silent like it’s holding its breath. A fortress disguised as infrastructure—low profile, high security. This is where secrets come to hide. Breaking in should be impossible, the kind of impossible that gets people disappeared if they try.

Ember kneels at the external panel, fingers flying. Her brow furrows, lips pressed in a tight line—a mix of focus and the kind of nerves she won't admit to. She mutters under her breath, "Give me sixty seconds," with a grit-edged calm that sounds more like a battlefield promise than a tech estimate. Sweat beads at her temple, but her hands don’t shake—if anything, they move faster.

I crouch beside her, scanning the perimeter. A breeze tugs at my skin—subtle, but wrong—and my breath catches. There’ssomething sharp beneath the smoke, acrid and wrong. Sulfur. And something older, more primal, like scorched earth soaked in blood. My gut twists. It hits me a second too late.

"We don't have sixty," I growl.

Malek appears at the far end of the ridge, draped in shadows like smoke given form, malevolence radiating from every line of his body. His eyes gleam with cruel amusement, glowing faintly red as if lit from within. Power coils around him, oily and thick, the kind that stains the air and makes your instincts scream. He doesn’t need to roar. His silence is worse—watchful, waiting, confident. He’s not here to fight. He’s here to dominate. And gods help us, he might enjoy it.

"Well," he drawls, "aren’t you two just adorable? The pet project and the fledgling."

Ember rises slowly, the wind lifting her hair. "Move aside, Malek. We’re not here for you."

"Oh, but I’m very much here for you."

He lunges, a blur of smoke and muscle, closing the distance with impossible speed. One second he’s a shadow at the edge of the ridge, the next he’s a force of fury, teeth bared, fire burning at his back. The ground cracks beneath his first step, heat rolling off him in waves that warp the air. There’s no warning—just pure violence unleashed.

Combat is chaos and heat. I shift mid-sprint, flames erupting around me in a sudden, blinding burst that scorches the ground beneath my feet. One breath I’m human, the next I’m airborne—wings unfurled, claws primed, vision sharpened through a dragon’s eyes. There’s no pain, no sense of bones or flesh moving—just the wash of fire and a pulse of ancient power reclaiming its form. The ground buckles beneath my launch, trees ripple from the shockwave, and ash spins in my wake. This is fury unleashed. This is war in its truest form. My roar splits the sky.

Malek answers with fire of his own, his dragon form lean and venomous, more smoke than scale—an unnatural blur of shadow and heat. We collide mid-air in a brutal dance of talons and fury, our roars tearing through the sky.

Below, Ember streaks across the ground like a comet, flame licking at her fingertips, her body alive with fire she hasn’t yet learned to master. The glow around her pulses and flickers—raw power, beautiful and terrifying all at once.

Ember breathes fire.It’s raw, uncontrolled—but hers. And it stops me cold. Pride and awe surge through me so fast it knocks my rhythm off. She’s untrained, untested—and already wielding more fire than some born dragons ever will. My heart stutters, not from fear, but from the sheer force of what she is becoming.

I tear into Malek’s defenses, unleashing a barrage of flame and claw, but it’s not enough. Not for what I feel. The rage climbs, molten and merciless, twisting through me like a storm unbound. My dragon roars inside, not just with battle fury—but with centuries of vengeance, betrayal, and loss. The fire in me isn’t just power—it’s hunger. It wants to end him. Wants to reduce him to ash, to leave no trace. Wants to end everything, just to silence the scream burning in my bones.

Until I hear her.Ember’s voice cuts through the haze, steady and grounding. "Dax. Look at me."

The sound of her voice—familiar, fierce, unmistakably hers—hits me like a cold plunge straight into fire. The chaos in my chest jolts, hiccups, then falters. My claws freeze mid-strike, breath catching in my throat. I turn toward her, and in that instant, the maelstrom inside me slows, quiets, steadies. Not because the threat is gone. But because she’s real. Present. Grounding. And she didn’t flinch—she reached for me. Called me back from the brink not with force, but with faith. And gods help me, I came.

The madness recoils, pulled back like a tide, I draw in a breath—not fire, not fury, but her. Her presence crashes through the fog of rage like cold wind through wildfire, cutting sharp and clean. The storm inside me calms, tethered by the single constant that cuts through the chaos. Her voice is the anchor I didn’t know I needed, and the bond between us thrums like a lifeline. I find the center in her voice, in her strength, in the blazing clarity of what she means to me. I find her—and I don’t let go. Not this time. Not ever.

We land in tandem, our bodies moving like they’ve always fought side by side. The ease startles me—how naturally she matches my rhythm, as if her instincts mirror mine. Her landing is fluid, seamless, as if she'd been doing this with me for years instead of days.

For a blink of time, it’s not just partnership—it’s fusion. My mind registers the shock of it even as my heart latches on. The part of me that’s never stopped bracing for loss dares to hope—really hope—that maybe I won’t have to fight alone anymore. Maybe she’s not just my match in fire—but in purpose. In soul.

Malek steps back, scorched and grinning."Such promise," he purrs. "You could be so much more than his weakness, Ember. Isn’t that what he fears? That you’ll see what he hides? That you’ll leave, like the other one?" You could be my queen. Rule beside me. Or refuse—and condemn every last one of his pathetic little unit to ash."

---