Page 3 of Ashfall
Four years spent walling it in, cementing it behind barriers no one could touch. And now - now, the fortress has crumbled, exposing the raw, unbearable broken heart I fought so hard to protect. Adam follows my gaze, stepping forward hesitantly, his movements cautious - like he's unsure of what he's about to see. He bends to get a better look at the screen. Then he turns to me. Concern darkens his features, but beneath it, there’s something else. It’s a quiet plea, a desperate need to understand.
“Who is that, Nyx? You know you can tell me.” My eyes finally tear away from the screen, meeting his - wide, searching, filled with worry so thick I almost wish I could lie to soothe it. If I were in my right mind, I would. I would tell him it’s fine. That everything is fine. But it’d be a lie. And I don’t know who I’d be lying for. Him, or myself. My mouth opens. The name clings to the back of my throat, suffocating, impossible to say. I haven’t voiced it since the day he was taken from me. Since the world shattered and rebuilt itself without him in it, and I screamed it so loud my throat was raw. Even now, just thinking it sendsa spear through my chest, twisting deep, a wound that never learned how to fully heal. So I whisper the only name I can.
His codename.
“Nocturne.”
CHAPTER THREE
nyx
Itoss and turn all night, the ghost’s face burned into my thoughts, front and center. I can’t shake him. How is he alive? Could he have an identical twin I never knew about? Impossible. He told me himself he was an only child. And how did he know I was watching? Or maybe he didn’t, it’s just who he was. Cocky as ever. Or did he see the drone? God, my head hurts. I must have asked myself a thousand questions since hitting the pillow.
After Adam helped me up from the floor, he cleaned up our room and went out to grab food, so we could talk through what happened. But I couldn’t engage, not until I had answers. I told him I needed to dig around before I confirmed anything, because whoever I saw… It looked like someone I knew,someone I loved.He read me instantly and didn’t push further. That’s twice in one day Adam hasn’t pried into the guts of a situation for more intel, rare for him. He's a data guy, always needing the full picture, whether it’s work or personal. The thought makes a hollow laugh echo around my room. No amount of data in the world could help either of us make sense of this.
I admit defeat - I’m not sleeping tonight. I pull on my baggy hoodie, step onto the veranda, and let the frosty night air settle against my skin as my hands grasp the metal fence. The sky is an endless expanse of black, untouched by pollution, revealing the true night. Stars scattered like shattered glass across the deep woodland below. We’re twenty kilometers out from the warehouse, but the vast forest stretches on, swallowing half the nation’s land. It’s breathtaking. Untouched, and unspoiled.
But it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Because it’s the same part of the world where I lost… Noc. I almost say his real name, but I can’t. The first time I did, our souls were tied together, bound by something deeper than words. And the moment I watched the life drain from his eyes, I lost the ability to say it again. So, I can only call him by his codename, the name the world knows him by: Nocturne. Because that delicate touch, that intimacy, it died with him.
God, this night sky makes me think of him. It always does. He earned that codename for a reason, but looking at this sky, it feels like him. Endless darkness. A cold-blooded killer. An apex predator standing right in front of you, towering over you like a blanket of shadows. For almost three years, since joining Ashfall, I’ve been able to look at the sky and smile, believing - hoping - that he’s up there, watching over me. But I know his deeds have certainly sent him straight to the fires of hell. But I liked to think he escaped and roamed about the stars, keeping me safe as I willingly put my life on the front line.
Because when we got back fromthatdeployment, I was wrecked. I took my leave immediately, avoiding the congratulations, the empty praise for the 'success' of the mission. A mission I was never supposed to be part of. It all went sideways on the ground, and they called me in. And now, I still don’t know if I’m grateful I saw it for myself - that I had something resembling closure, or if I would’ve rather just heardhis name read out in the debrief. Right there. Among the other names of those who never made it home.
No, I know I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. Sitting in a room full of people, forced to keep my emotions in check, pretending I was fine. Instead, I was left with a torn-apart heart. I spent those three weeks of leave locked in my apartment, crying until I was physically drained of tears. No food. No sleep. Just a hollow existence. Eventually, I called in for extra leave and took another two weeks off, trying, and failing, to get my head straight. I had to rebuild the walls I had torn down when my mother died. The ones I had chipped away to let Noc in. And then he crashed through the rest, leaving myself completely unprotected.
The longer we were together, the less defense I had against him. When I returned to base, I poured my heartbreak and anger into everything I did, desperate for some kind of release. But I didn’t find one. I became permanently cold, and not the cold I would switch on as a persona for missions or interrogations. This was different. This was who I was now; I didn't need to switch on anything going into enemy lines. I worked myself to exhaustion - grinding through training. Pounding what was left of my soul into every form of martial art, collapsing into bed only when my body and mind couldn’t take any more. I threw myself into deployments, supported every mission I could, and my body count skyrocketed past the rest. I took no prisoners. Every enemy who stood before me as a threat had no chance of survival. And I took revenge in every single one.
That's when the call came in the middle of the night. The newly formed shadow unit named Ashfall-666 wanted me. Commander Graves asked what I'd want as a codename. ‘Nyx.’ was all I said. I was fascinated with Greek mythology as a child, Nyx especially. She was feared by Zeus himself, the primordial goddess of the night, born from Chaos. It only felt fitting becauseI was a walking psychological weapon by that point. Before my mother’s death, she told me I was her worst nightmare and her greatest creation. From that moment on, I became Nyx, I embodied it, let it seep into my very being. I thrive in stealth, in the shadows, in the unseen corners of the world where danger lurks. I flourished under the cover of darkness - a darkness that mirrored my heart and soul. A darkness like his.
I wake to the slam of a door. Blinking through the haze of exhaustion, I watch dawn rise over the woodland from my broken window. Sleep finally came two hours ago, but only after I fried every cell in my brain with relentless questions, replaying the last few hours. It felt like I was applying psychological warfare, except I was both attacker and victim. I push myself out of bed and head for a shower, stepping in without hesitation. The icy water engulfs me, but I don’t flinch. I feel numb - more than usual, and that worries me. When I got to this stage before, I became reckless.
Steam begins to swirl in the air as the water eventually warms enough for me to wash my hair, scrubbing my head hard enough in hopes that it might clear my thoughts. Stepping out, I wrap a towel around myself and face the mirror. My dark hair clings all the way down to my elbows, dripping. I started dyeing it when I joined the new unit - it’s now just a few shades above black, a stark contrast to the light brown I used to have. My green eyes look hollow. Haunted. And that’s exactly what they are. The shadows beneath them are carved from the heavy weight of the revelations of the past fourteen hours.
I brush my teeth, dry my hair, and throw on my black cargos, t-shirt, and boots - standard tactical gear. As I open my door, Adam is mid-knock, and our combined momentum sends his fist straight into my face. “Adam!” I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose. Seriously? Not even awake for an hour, and I’ve already been punched. “Sorry, Nyx,” he says, turning away, but I catchthe telltale shake of his shoulders - he’s stifling laughter like a mischievous child. I nudge a discarded box from last night with my foot as he walks away, tripping him and making him stumble forward, just as the front door swings open. He crashes right into Graves - who looks like he’s a tad pissed off this morning, and that’s not helped. I bite my lip, eyes fixed on the floor. I couldn’t have planned that better if I tried. The fact that I manage to hold in a laugh makes my soul feel a fraction lighter. Hopefully, this is a sign I’m not going to spiral. Yet.
“Trying to keep me out, Adam?” Graves snickers. He's playing it cool, but by the look on his face, he doesn't appear to have sorted the issue from last night. Otherwise, he'd be all victorious smiles “Sorry, sir.” Adam fires a heated glare at me, but the way his lips twitch tells me he’s secretly impressed by my impulsive move. “Everything ok, sir?” I ask as I turn my attention to Graves. Our team isn't too heavy on the formalities when out on missions, and it's only us here. But if we ever had to visit the home base, then we'd put on a show. Plus, Graves had a great relationship with my mother from what I remember, giving him a bit of a soft spot for me. I’m headstrong, and that’s something he values immensely.
“We’re headed down front. Intelligence has gone over the intel we gathered last night. You’ve got ten minutes.” Graves shoots us both a glare. “Don’t. Be. Late.” And with that, he jerks out of the room, undoubtedly, off to rally the rest of the team. “Good thing I made coffee early this morning,” Adam grumbles, heading to the kitchen unit. He pours the steaming liquid into the cardboard cups he picked up at the store, then hands me one as I step out the door. “Thanks,” taking it from him, clutching it tight as I let the warmth seep into my hands. “Do you have any idea what they’ve found?” I ask as we walk coordinated down the outdoor stairs into the carpark of the rental apartments we hired out.
The sun struggles to break through the thin veil of clouds, sending a crisp chill through the air. My exposed arms prickle with goosebumps. “Nothing in the database,” Adam says. “But intelligence has clearance for a larger one than I do - they’ve got access to all the classified files.” Adam’s good at what he does. Better than good. If he wanted to, he could get in and view those files without leaving a trace - cookie crumbs, they call them? I’ll have to check with him if that’s the term. And maybe whether there are actual cookies in this place when we get back. The coffee is swirling in the emptiness of my stomach, and I wouldn’t say no to something solid.
Blitz and Phantom descend the stairs just as we reach the meeting point, both looking slightly jarred. Judging by their expressions, it’s clear Graves hasn’t reserved his early morning wake up call for just us. Hawk, our Executive Officer - and second in command to Graves - is leaning against the bonnet of a white truck, papers spread across it as he sifts through the reports gathered last night. He glances up, does a quick head count, and confirms all four of us are here. “Good morning, devils,” he says with a grin too wide for 0600,or at any time. He loves this team. We’re split into two units: 616 and 656. Together, we form the devils’ numbers that make up Ashfall-666. But as we’re the original team, along with Graves and Hawk spending most of their time with us, we're considered a team of six.
656 is made up of Rhaine, Hunter, and Gunner. The latter my least favorite member, he’s just an arrogant sonofabitch. They’re a little less experienced than us on the covert side, so they mostly act as surveillance whilst we run around and do the rest, but they’re just as important. When Graves was building the foundations of the unit, he knew he wanted two teams to split across areas. The triple sixes formed by adding 616 and 656 prompts Hawk to consider us all evil demons, hence thenickname devils. I genuinely think they both spent more time on that, than the actual objectives of our missions.
Graves was chosen to lead this unit as commander afterthatmission, in part because of me. They were so impressed by his selection of personnel - including the snap decision to have me join - alongside a co-current private covert mission - that he bypassed promotions, landing straight into the role of commander along with his fourth star. To be fair, he's served over 35 years in the military - the guy has insane experience. He has rank, he could be a General, but he’s determined to get this mission completed. I heard Gunner mention before that if he manages to bring Volokov down, he’s on track for an award..
“Good morning, sir,” we all say in an amused unison. “At ease, soldiers,” Hawk chuckles at each of us. The humor isn’t lost on us - he’s easily the happiest guy in this unit. Standing at 6’2, with dark close-shaven hair and deep brown skin, Hawk is second in command. He was born in the UK, and that cocky bad boy accent? Yes, it makes women swoon - especially paired with his athletic build. He’s undeniably good-looking, and he knows it. His looks are a weapon. Hell, I’ve been tempted a couple times when we’ve all ventured out to a dive bar during down time, but he keeps it strictly professional.
Hawk shifts into his serious demeanor and begins to debrief us. “As you know, the mission didn't unfold as expected last night. We were expecting Volokov’s men to be transporting civilians. That exchange never happened, despite initial recon matching the intel reports - all vehicles and associates were present at the warehouse but there was no sign of the anticipated trade.” His gaze sweeps across all six of us before he continues. “Instead, we observed unidentified individuals transferring cargo from the warehouse and loading it into SUVs. All three cases were silver - all secured with biometric, military-grade locks and marked with serial codes. That suggests high-value and possible chemical material. The locks alone indicate restricted access, but the setup tells us more. The floodlights surrounding the warehouse and the vehicles’ headlights remained on, a deliberate move to deter expected interference, making anyone looking in have to work for it. We did manage to capture a partial image - something etched on the side of one of the cases. Looks like it could be the skeletal remains of a bird.”
We exchange glances, none of us recognizing the partial image as Hawk holds it up on the tablet for us to see. “We’re currently running database searches, and we’ve sent the intel to the other units - they may have the missing half of our image from their investigations. We believe we’re dealing with a high-level terror threat.” He lets out a frustrated breath, a smile edging his lips, “They’re planning a grand reveal. And from the intercepted communication that brought this meeting to light, it’s possible they knew they were being watched. They may have switched up the meeting points, with the human exchange taking place elsewhere.”
I frown. “Do you think they've split into separate groups because they believe they’ve been compromised?” I ask Hawk. “Yes and no,” he replies, tilting his head from side to side as he ponders over it. “656 is monitoring the primary group - they’ve been unusually quiet lately.” He pauses, considering his next words. “We’ve intercepted most of their communications, and over the past six months, they’ve been coming here more frequently. We haven’t been able to catch a human trade yet. But we suspect they’re assembling a unit of foot soldiers right here - potentially to bring them back to home soil for an attack. Likely planning to keep them there and coercing them into joining his army.”
I wince. Volokov never stops attempting. And if his men are kidnapping random civilians, torturing them into compliance with their ideology - then we’ve got a much bigger problem.“That’s all for now, 616. Our new base is ready, so you’ll be happy to know we won’t be unhoused anymore. We’ll be heading there in thirty minutes. Saddle up!” With that, he knocks his hand off the truck door, striding off to his room, already beginning to load the cruiser that carried our belongings here. A wave of ease washes over me, and it makes me feel conflicted at its presence.
If Noc is alive, we’re moving further away from him, and the farther away I am, the harder it’ll be to try and get back to this warehouse and see if he appears there again.
