Emberfall smelled like scorched oil and desperation.
The town sprawled like a wound at the edge of the world, its architecture less a matter of design and more of survival. Buildings rose in uneven stacks of blackstone and fire-scorched timber, many leaning precariously or reinforced with melted slag. Vents belched smoke into the sky like lazy dragons, and glowing rivulets of lava traced veins through the ground, diverted by crumbling barriers.
It was beautiful in a kind of broken, lawless way. Like everything here had clawed its way out of ruin and decided ruin was good enough.
Liora adjusted her hood as she passed a forge stall where a shirtless man with ember-marked arms molded a blade with nothing but his breath. Sparks flared from his nostrils. His eyes glowed faintly red. Flame-touched. Third generation, maybe second. He didn't look at her, but others did.
Word spread in Emberfall like flame across dry brush. Whispers slipped between vendors. Eyes lingered.
"That her?"
"Null-born. Touched the Monolith."
"Saw her take down three Riders by herself."
Liora kept walking.
Brisa walked close to her, scanning the crowd with narrowed eyes. "This place makes Velstrae look like a prayer circle."
"Good," Sera murmured. "Means the Queen's eyes are less likely to find us here."
Liora wasn't so sure. Her power—it had a smell, a presence. People felt it before they saw her. And now that she'd walked through lava and shadow, now that the Monolith had called her Ashborn... she didn't know how to hide anymore.
They found shelter in a tavern near the southern ridge—a crumbling, two-story structure barely held together by iron beams and willpower. It had no name. The sign had long since burned away. Inside, the ceiling wept with steam, and every surface was layered with grime or soot. But it was warm. Anonymous.
They sat in a shadowed booth. Brisa gnawed on dried meat, her eyes flicking between exits. Sera nursed a clay mug, silent and alert.
Liora watched the room.
Flame-bearers of all kinds filled the space. A woman with fire in her hair laughed too loudly at something her twin companions said. A boy no older than twelve practiced spinning sparks between his fingers. A one-eyed man with a glowing tattoo along his jaw glared at anyone who looked too long.
Then the door opened.
Liora didn't look up at first. She was too busy pretending not to exist. But something in the room shifted—like a pressure drop before a storm.
Then she heard it.
The clink of spurs.
She looked.
The man who entered wore a charred cloak pinned with a silver tooth. His skin was scorched, his hair long and tangled. A branding mark curled over his cheek—a failed execution. A bounty hunter. Not just any. The kind that specialized in catching the impossible.
His eyes landed on her.
"Null-girl," he said.
Conversation died.
Liora slowly rose. "Not anymore."
He grinned, showing too many teeth. "You have a price. And I'm real thirsty."
Brisa reached for her blade. Sera stood without a word.
Liora said, "You should leave."
He spat to the side. "Sweet of you to warn me. Now shut up and let me drag you to the queens feet like a good cursed freak."
And then the shadows moved.
A flash of black.
Steel hissed.
The bounty hunter fell forward, a cauterized hole where his heart had been.
Riven stood behind him, blade still steaming.
He looked around the room once. Everyone immediately went back to their drinks.
Riven turned to Liora. "You're predictable."
She glared. "You're late. I was about to kill him myself."
"Took too long." Riven retorted turning to meet her gaze
"Wanted him to sweat." I like taking my time with my meal
He stepped closer, towering over her. "You're leaking power. Half the city feels it. You think you can hide in a place like this?"
"No. I think I can burn it down if I have to." She snapped almost on que
He didn't smirk. But his eyes glinted. "Still arrogant."
She took several steps forward, as if she was being pulled by an invisible force field towards. "And I am Still breathing." She says an arm's length away from him
"Temporarily. He said closing the remaining space between them, she could smell him. He smelt like scorched cedar and steel—like a battlefield long cooled but still humming with the memory of fire. There was smoke in it, yes, but not the acrid kind. It was cleaner. Sharper. The lingering warmth of forged iron and burnt spices. And beneath that, something almost alive: a hint of charred orange peel and old leather, sun-baked and worn in.
It wasn't a scent Liora could explain. Only that it filled her senses when he stepped too close. She was getting dizzy, slightly intoxicated.
"Seriously Liora? Flirting with the enemy?" Brisa muttered, in disbelief
"This is not flirting," Liora snapped.
"Flirting with murder, maybe," Riven added.
Before she could fire back, a thunderous explosion cracked the air.
The tavern shuddered. Smoke and fire erupted from the rear, where a second bounty team stormed through a breached wall. No subtlety this time. They came in roaring, flame-bolts flying.
Sera shouted, pushing Brisa behind a fallen beam. Liora spun, black fire dancing up her arms. She caught the first bolt midair, twisted it, and hurled it back. Riven was already moving, fast and lethal.
The clash spilled into the tavern cellar as they fought their way toward an escape route. But the bounty team had rigged more than explosives—they had mined the foundation. A magical rupture detonated beneath their feet.
The floor vanished in a thunderous roar. Beams snapped. Flame licked up the walls. And Liora and Riven were swallowed by the collapse.
Stone. Smoke. Silence.
Darkness.
Liora's ears rang like they'd been struck by lightning. The world around her groaned. The only thing she felt at first was the throb of her skull and the hot press of something heavy against her shoulder. She shifted, coughing through a cloud of dust. Her fingers scraped rock. Blood slicked her palm.
The air was thick with magic and soot.
Something moved beside her.
She turned.
Riven.
He lay crumpled against a jagged slab of stone, part of a support beam collapsed over his legs. His cloak was torn, half-burned, and his side oozed blood through a tear in his armor.
Liora pushed herself upright with a groan. Every inch of her body screamed. Her ribs felt bruised. Her knee throbbed. But she was alive.
"Riven," she rasped. No response.
She crawled to him, ignoring the way her shoulder protested. She reached his neck. A pulse. Faint but steady.
"Of course you're too stubborn to die," she muttered.
The cave was dark, lit only by faint reddish glow seeping from cracks in the stone—a river of molten rock deeper down. They were underground. Far below Emberfall, maybe beneath the fire-vein network that ran beneath the town like arteries.
She had to move him. The ceiling still dripped dust and groaned. Any moment, it might collapse again.
Grimacing, she braced her feet and pushed the beam off his legs. It took every bit of her strength, black flame coiling down her arms to give her a burst of momentum. She nearly collapsed afterward.
Riven groaned.
His eyes fluttered open.
"Are you... crying?" he croaked.
She glared at him. "Don't flatter yourself."
He looked around. "We underground?"
"Yes, genius. Unless this is the world's most depressing skylight."
He tried to sit up and hissed. His leg was bent awkwardly.
"You're hurt. Don't move," she said, pulling her cloak off and tearing strips from the hem.
"You care now?"
"I care about not dying next to someone who smells like smoke and bad decisions."
He leaned back. "And yet, here you are."
She tightened the wrap around his leg, ignoring his wince. "Say thank you."
"I'd rather die."
"Careful. Tempt me."
He coughed a laugh that turned into a grunt. "If you were going to kill me, you would've done it when I was unconscious."
"You really don't understand me at all, do you?" she said. "I don't like easy kills. I like my enemies to see me gut them."
His gaze met hers, dark and gleaming. "Good to know."
She stood and stretched, scanning the cavern. A collapsed passage behind them. A crumbling tunnel ahead. The ceiling looked fragile, and the lava veins below sent up pulses of heat. They couldn't stay.
Riven tried to push himself up again.
Liora caught his shoulder. "Stop. You can barely walk."
"I'll manage."
"Oh yes, limp dramatically into the lava. Very heroic."
He narrowed his eyes. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"Do you ever start thinking?"
He didn't answer. Just gritted his teeth and dragged himself to the wall. He found a long iron pipe from the wreckage and used it as a makeshift crutch.
They walked slowly, cautiously. The path wound through old mining tunnels, reinforced with blackstone beams, some scorched through. Faint remnants of fire wards shimmered in the stone. It felt abandoned. Cursed.
Every few feet, Liora glanced back. Not because she feared pursuit, but because she hated showing her back to Riven.
He finally broke the silence. "Why didn't you run? When I was down."
She didn't look at him. "Because I'm not like you."
"Meaning?"
She stopped. Turned. "Meaning I don't leave people behind when they're broken. Even ones who want me dead."
His jaw tightened. "You think I chose this?"
"Didn't you? Loyal dog to the Queen, right? Her sword? Her leash?"
His voice dropped. Cold. "You have no idea what I am."
"Then tell me."
He didn't.
They moved on in silence.