Page 7 of Ashfall

The fire folds over me, golden and alive, cloaking who I was and unveiling what I am.

A dragon—ancient, unbound, and unleashed.

The sound that tears from my throat scatters birds from the trees, sends tremors through the earth. It’s not just a cry—it’s a warning.

I charge from the cliff’s edge, limbs coiling, releasing. One bound. Then another. My wings flare wide, catching the heat-thick air as ash and cinders swirl around me. In an instant, I’m airborne—scales gleaming, wings slicing through the wind. The updraft lifts me higher, faster. The ground falls away. Fire below. Sky above.

And in between? Me. Exactly where I belong.

Wings tearing through ash, eyes scanning for the source of the newest threat. Below me, Ember is still on the ridge—shielding her eyes against the light and smoke, completely unaware of what just took to the sky. She sees the heat signature maybe, a dark, unknown shape. She may hear the roar, but not the truth.

Not yet. The fire will keep my secret—for now.

But it won’t hide me forever. The moment she sees the truth, everything changes.

And gods help anyone who tries to come between me and what’s mine.

CHAPTER 3

EMBER

The ground still vibrates under my boots long after Dax vanishes over the ridge. The sound of his retreat—all raw power and fury—echoes in my bones.

Arrogant bastard. Gorgeous? Yes. Intense? Absolutely. But the way he just barked at me like I was one of his grunts? Oh, hell to the no!

Still, I get it. Fire doesn’t wait for feelings. Timing matters. Precision matters. Every second counts when the wind turns and the trees go up like matchsticks. Fine—he had a point. I lacked the equipment needed for what he was doing and charging after him in a fire zone would have been suicide.

But that doesn’t mean I enjoy being ordered around like some rookie who doesn’t know how to read a fire line. I’ve made my career standing toe-to-toe with infernos and bureaucrats alike. Being told to stay put? That burns worse than the smoke.

So okay, he had a point. Doesn’t mean I’m not planning to make one of my own.

Back at the base camp, the air hits like a wall—thick with smoke, sweat, and a kind of aggressive energy that makes my skin itch. Testosterone clings to every square inch like it's been baked into the dirt. Radios crackle. Boots crunch over gravel.Someone barks a report and gets barked at in return. The tension here isn’t just because of the fire. It’s something else. Deeper. Like everyone’s waiting for the next command or the next explosion, whichever comes first.

And I’m supposed to play nice in the middle of it.

The base commander stomps past me, muttering just loud enough for me to hear. "Supposed to be Fane's problem." He stops short, catching himself. “I’m sorry. Fane was supposed to be working with you…”

“No need to apologize. You have a lot on your plate, but I’m supposed to be here as part of the solution. I’m here to try to stop whoever or whatever is turning the Rim into a testing ground.”

“So you’re sure it’s arson?” he asks.

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Too many similarities between too many fires.”

“Exactly. I really don’t want to be the source of any concern for you or the rogue leader of Blackstrike.”

“Rogue?” the commander chuckles. “Sounds about right. He’s abrasive and a pain in the ass, but nobody is better at what they do.”

“Agreed. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll get what I need without risking anyone.”

The commander nods before turning to stride away. He doesn’t know it, but I’ve walked into hostile situations before—federal briefings, courtroom depositions, post-incident reviews where everyone wants someone to blame. But out here, it’s different. Here, very few see me as an authority. Most see me as a disruption or an outsider. I’m not, but I understand where they’re coming from.

I take a deep breath before heading toward the first teams to respond. I pick the group that looks the least annoyed by my presence and the most likely to give me more than grunts andblank stares. As I approach, they fidget—uncertain whether to salute or pretend I’m not there.

"Ember Vale," I say, keeping my voice cool. "I’m the arson investigator assigned to the fire. I just need a few minutes of your time. It would really help. You guys were the first ones to respond?"

One of them nods. He’s tall, lean, maybe mid-thirties, and his eyes flick to my badge, then back to my face. "Yeah. We came in from the ridge. The smoke was already curling in patterns we didn’t like."

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