Page 117 of The Ashborn

Smoke choked the air, curling in black ribbons as her body lay twisted on the cobblestones, slick with ash and blood. Ahead, a mound of corpses burned in the streets, flames gnawing at what once were faces.

Kienna gasped.

They weren’t silent. They screamed for her, ragged voices tearing through the roar of fire, their agony spiraling into the night. Children’s cries laced through the wind, twining amongst the crackle of flesh splitting in the heat.

Kienna’s heart seized until it hurt.

“I’ll save you!” The words spilled from her throat as she staggered upright, the world spinning in a haze of smoke and red glow.

A child stepped out from the shadows of flame. Small. Barefoot. Skin powdered with gray ash as if carved from the ruin around them. Her eyes burned with a glacial, unnatural blue that pulsed, staring straight into Kienna’s.

“Don’t go in there!” Kienna cried. Her voice splintered.

The girl tilted her head. “You can’t save us.” She paused, her words sharp as a blade. As she said it, more children arrived. Two more boys, one larger than the rest, and the other with sweet green eyes. Then two more girls, one with bright red hair and the other with deep, brown eyes. They fell into the fire. The little girl turned to look at them burning. “You can’t save any of us.”

“No!” Kienna lunged forward. Heat swallowed the girl, devouring the air. The child’s outline blurred, then bloomed into a pillar of flame. Her skin blistered, splitting until she was nothing but ember and ash.

The fire reached for Kienna next.

Savage pain erupted. Blisters bubbled and burned across her arms as her skin blackened, flaking away like burnt paper. Her fingers split and crumbled like charred leaves. Kienna clawed for breath, clawed for anything. There was nothing except fire and the scream tearing from her throat.

Connak’s hands reached for her, calloused and real, wrenching her back into cold air and dragging her from the flames.

And then he was gone, and she was alone in the healing room.

The soft clink of glass woke Kienna. Sunlight filtered through the slats of the high windows, laying pale ribbons across the floor and her blanket. She slowly blinked the healing chamber into view.

Ruva lay curled beside her bed, her breath deep and even, the tip of her tail flicking now and then as if caught in a dream mirroring Kienna’s haze. Kienna’s body ached as the sleep faded.

Tristian sat near the window, his chair askew. A half-empty flask rested near his boot. He stared forward, gaze distant, elbow braced on his knee. Only when she shifted did his eyes move toward her. He looked tired with a layer of grief that refused to surface. “Will you be the Ashborn?” he asked, cutting straight to the point, his voice low and tight like it hurt to say anything at all.

Kienna registered the shock in her bones. She’d only read about the Ashborn Queen with Connak. She hadn’t given herself a chance to think through it. Why wasn’t her allegiance to them enough anymore? Why did she have to change her name and become something out of a fairytale? Her nightmare sat thickly on her shoulders.

“I…” She faltered, eyes dropping to her hands. “No.”

No? Ruva asked.

Tristian’s chest heaved, and when he exhaled, Kienna sensed the annoyance dripping in the air.

“We sent you to Dove Port for this. To anchor you. And even still, after everything we’ve given, after everyone we’ve lost… You won’t?”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do, Tristian. So, what could you possibly want me to say?”

Ruva perked her head. Easy, Little Flame.

Tristian crossed his arms and looked away. “There’s nothing left to say. Tislin died for nothing.”

“You know what? Fuck you!” Her voice shook, the flames searing her blood. “You’re pretending like Tislin’s death doesn’t affect me, too. He was my friend.”

Tristian stood, his body towering. “Then why do you still sit here like none of it belongs to you?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I can’t carry it all!” Her voice cracked. She knew she shouldn’t be screaming. Ruva’s growl confirmed it. “It’s too much. I see them when I close my eyes, those people I couldn’t save. The ones I had to kill. The screaming. The silence. It haunts me.”

“You let it stop you. And that makes you weak.”

Kienna leaned forward, her hands trembling. “I can’t armor up and turn it off like you. Maybe that makes me weak, but at least I’m not numb.”

“I’d rather be numb than paralyzed,” Tristian said.