Chapter 2: Ashvale's Shadows
The ruins of the city stretched before Elias like a graveyard no one had bothered to bury.
Ash drifted in curtains down narrow streets. Roofs caved in under centuries of silence. Broken archways loomed like ribs, and the sky, if it could be called that, was stitched with endless strands of violet light. Each thread pulsed faintly, as if the world itself breathed.
Elias adjusted the makeshift sling across his chest. The cub, Rook, shifted, ears flicking. The bandaged leg trembled whenever the pup stirred, but otherwise it stayed quiet, pressed against his chest. He could feel the fragile heartbeat thumping like a trapped bird.
"Don't die on me," Elias muttered, voice rough with smoke scars. "I didn't crawl through fire to carry a corpse."
His throat still burned, every swallow a reminder of the house fire. His chest felt bruised from the inside, phantom echoes of the rib that had punctured his lung. Even if his body looked whole now, memory had left its fingerprints.
He scanned the street. Shapes moved in the rubble, pale scavengers keeping their distance. He didn't need to see their eyes to know, they were watching, waiting for him to slip.
That strange hum was back, faint but insistent. A resonance in his bones, a plucked string only he could hear. It warned him of the beasts before they lunged, let him move where he shouldn't have known to. He didn't understand it, but it had kept him alive.
"Add that to the list of things I don't fucking understand," he said under his breath. "Right below 'why am I here' and 'why can't I just be dead already.'"
The cub sneezed, startling him. Elias snorted. "Yeah, yeah. I'll keep moving."
He picked a path downhill, where the stonework funneled toward what might once have been a plaza. Instinct told him people, if there were people, would gather where water once flowed, where walls gave shelter.
The air was colder the farther he went. Ash thickened, muffling sound, until only his boots crunching against stone broke the silence. A toppled statue lay across the street, its face weathered into anonymity. Strange symbols had been chiseled into the base, threads of violet running through the grooves.
Rook whined softly, ears pressed back.
"You and me both," Elias muttered. He gave the statue a wide berth.
The plaza opened before him, ringed with collapsed buildings and shattered stalls. A fountain stood at the center, dry but not dead. From its cracked basin, thin lines of glowing thread crawled upward like ivy, humming faintly. Elias stopped, unease prickling his spine.
Rook squirmed in the sling, whining louder.
"Alright," Elias whispered. "Not friendly. Got it."
A skittering sound echoed from one of the side alleys. Then another. Then three, four, too many to count.
Elias tightened his grip on the spear.
Shapes slunk into the plaza. Scavengers. Dozens this time, their milky eyes gleaming in the violet light. They moved in jerks and crawls, lips peeled back to show needle like teeth.
"Shit," Elias hissed.
He backed toward a half-standing wall, putting stone at his back so they couldn't circle him completely. His chest tightened, not just with fear but with grim familiarity. This was no different from the ambushes overseas, cornered in streets with nowhere to run.
Rook whimpered against his chest. Elias pressed a hand lightly over the cub's back. "Stay quiet, kid."
The resonance in his bones grew louder, vibrating through his ribs. His skin prickled. He could feel their intent before they moved.
The first one leapt. Elias pivoted, spear thrust catching it midair. It crumpled, light threads dimming. He ripped the weapon free. Another lunged from the side. He ducked, slammed the haft into its jaw, felt the bone crunch.
They surged.
Elias fought like he had in the desert, short and brutal. Every strike was survival, not grace. A thrust through the throat, a swing to crack a skull, a kick to send one tumbling into the fountain's cracked basin. Blood, or whatever passed for it, splattered across the ash, faintly glowing as it seeped.
He lost count after the first ten.
The resonance screamed in his bones, behind you! He spun, barely in time to parry a lunge. The spear splintered further, haft trembling in his grip. His arms ached, burned skin screaming with every movement.
Still they came.
"Bastards," Elias snarled, voice ragged. "I'm not dying again!"
He rammed the spear down into another, boot crushing its skull as he ripped free. His chest heaved, throat raw. Sweat stung his eyes.
Then, silence.
The last scavenger fell twitching, light fading under its hide. Ash settled in the air like snow. Elias staggered, nearly dropping the spear, lungs burning.
He looked around. The plaza was littered with corpses. The fountain pulsed faintly, threads of light crawling higher.
Rook whimpered. Elias looked down. The cub was trembling but alive, pressed tight against him.
He let out a shaky laugh, half madness, half relief. "Still breathing. That's what counts."
He dropped to one knee, exhausted, and pressed his forehead briefly against the cub's. Its fur was coarse, but the small warmth steadied him.
"Rook," he said again, firmer this time. "That's your name. Rook."
The cub blinked up at him, silver eyes reflecting the strange light of the fountain.
Elias pushed himself upright, every muscle aching. He looked at the corpses, at the threads crawling up the fountain like veins, at the city sprawled dead and waiting beyond.
"Alright," he muttered. "We find shelter. Then we figure out what the hell kind of nightmare I woke up in."
He adjusted the sling, spear gripped in his burned hand, and limped out of the plaza with his first companion pressed against his chest.
The streets beyond the plaza narrowed into a maze of tilted stone and fallen beams. Elias moved cautiously, one hand steady on the spear, the other cradling the cub tight against his chest. Rook's breathing was shallow but steady, the pup's small warmth a reminder that he wasn't completely alone in this hell.
The resonance still thrummed in his bones, faint and uneven, like the aftershocks of a blast. Every time he turned a corner, the hum told him whether danger lingered near. It wasn't perfect, he didn't know how far it reached, didn't understand what it was, but it kept him alive. That was enough for now.
His boots scuffed through ash. The silence pressed down heavier with every step, broken only by the occasional distant snarl or the clatter of stone falling in the ruins. Elias's throat ached, scorched raw by the house fire. His voice rasped when he muttered, "This place feels like it's waiting to bury me."
He paused at an intersection where three streets branched in jagged directions. The left sloped down into shadow, where the walls leaned close together like the jaws of a trap. The right curved upward toward what looked like another set of arches. Straight ahead, the road slanted toward buildings that still clung to their shape, their roofs caved but their walls mostly intact.
"Shelter first," Elias said to himself. "Questions later."
He shifted Rook carefully and chose the center path.
The farther he went, the more signs of life he found. Not human life, at least not yet, but nests. Piles of bones stacked under eaves, feathers matted with ash, strange claw marks gouged deep into the stone. The scavengers weren't the only predators here.
"Great," he muttered. "Neighborhood's full."
The resonance pulsed suddenly, sharper. Elias froze, spear half-raised, eyes scanning the wreckage. His instincts screamed.
A shadow detached from the rooftop above. Elias twisted just as a scavenger dropped onto the street where he'd been standing. This one was larger than the others, its hide slick with light that pulsed like veins of molten glass. Its jaw unhinged wider than seemed possible, teeth glinting.
"Son of a —" Elias swung the spear in a brutal arc. The beast dodged faster than its smaller kin, claws raking the air where his chest had been. The resonance hummed, jerking him sideways before its teeth clamped shut around his throat. He jabbed low, catching its foreleg, driving it back.
The cub whimpered, pressing against him.
"Not letting you have him," Elias snarled.
The creature circled, pacing, milky eyes locked on him. Its growl reverberated in his chest like a drum. Elias steadied his breathing despite the fire scorched ache. He had fought worse odds before. At least here, there weren't bullets.
The resonance surged, now!
Elias thrust as the beast lunged. The spear caught in its chest, not deep enough to kill, but enough to stagger it. He ripped the weapon free, ignoring the splinter that tore into his palm. Blood streaked his hand, slick on the shaft.
"Come on!" he roared, voice ragged. "Come on, you bastard!"
The beast charged again. This time Elias sidestepped, using its own momentum. He brought the spear down hard across the base of its skull. The impact jarred his arms to the bone. The scavenger crumpled, light dimming, its twitching body scattering ash as it fell.
Elias stood over it, chest heaving. His arms trembled with exhaustion, but he didn't lower the spear until he was sure it wasn't getting back up. Only then did he sag against a half collapsed wall, sucking in harsh breaths.
His back muscles screamed. His throat tore with every inhale. His body felt like a bag of broken parts somehow strung together.
But he was alive. Rook was alive.
"Too damn close," he muttered.
He crouched in the shelter of the wall, setting Rook down gently on the cloak he'd taken earlier. The cub licked at its wound, whining softly. Elias tore another strip from his shirt and checked the bandage. The bleeding had slowed. The faint silver glimmers in the pup's blood still unnerved him, but he pushed the thought aside. Survival first.
He poured a little water from a cracked basin he'd found nearby into his palm. Rook lapped at it, tongue small and rough. Elias gave a faint smile despite everything. "You're tougher than you look, kid."
The cub blinked at him, then curled up, head resting against his boot.
Elias leaned back against the wall, eyes scanning the ruined street. The sky's violet threads shifted faintly, pulsing brighter for a moment, like the world had taken notice of him. He didn't like it.
His voice rasped as he whispered, "Why here? Why me?"
No answer came. Only the wind in the ruins.
He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaustion dragging at him. The fire's memory still clung to him, the heat, the little girl's coughing sob, the beam crushing his back. He had died. He was sure of it. He had felt the rib spear into his lung. He had tasted blood in his last breath.
And now he was here. Whole. Alive.
"God," he muttered, voice low and raw. "If You're listening… was this mercy, or punishment?"
The silence pressed heavier than any response could have.
Rook stirred, nuzzling his boot again. Elias opened his eyes and forced himself upright. There was no rest here, not yet.
He picked up the spear, slung the cub back into its makeshift sling, and moved deeper into the ruins. The city wasn't done with him.
The road funneled into a narrow lane where two buildings slumped toward each other like drunks sharing a secret. Elias kept to the shadows, testing each step before he committed the weight of his body. Rook's ears flicked, the pup's breath warm against his chest.
The resonance in his bones steadied into a low hum, neither warning nor welcome. It felt like walking under power lines right before a storm.
He found a doorway tucked beneath a fractured lintel. The door itself had rotted away, beyond a single room lay half buried under fallen plaster. A counter ran along one wall, maybe a shop once. Shelves lay toppled, their contents long since scavenged. A back corner was clear of debris and dry.
"Good enough," Elias muttered.
He set Rook down gently on the cloak and rechecked the bandage. The bleeding had slowed to a sticky oozing, and the silver glimmers in the blood were fainter now. He tore another strip from his shirt, added a second wrap, then pressed his palm lightly to the cub's ribs until the frantic rhythm eased.
"Stay with me."
Rook blinked, then rested his muzzle across Elias's wrist.
"Yeah," Elias said softly. "Me too."
He propped the broken spear against the wall, then scanned the room for anything useful. In a heap of scrap he found a length of cord, a cracked clay jar, and a splintery board about the size of his forearm. He tied the board to Rook's injured leg like a crude splint.
"Not pretty," he said, "but it'll hold."
Outside, ash laced the air. The sky's threads brightened, as if dusk in this place meant the stitches glowed instead of the sun going down. A faint tolling drifted through the ruins, metal on stone, once… twice… again. It rolled along the streets like a slow wave and set the resonance in his bones buzzing.
Elias stiffened. "You hear that?" he whispered.
Rook's ears pricked. The pup didn't whine. It listened.
"Not beasts," Elias decided. The scavengers didn't ring bells. Which meant, people. Or something that wanted to be treated like people.
He doused the instinct to bolt for the sound. Running toward unknowns had already killed him once tonight. He needed information, water, and rest, in that order he could actually survive.
He crouched by the doorway and dragged a low shelf across it, leaving a slit he could watch through. Then he sat with his back to the opposite wall, spear across his knees, body angled so he could explode forward if he needed to. Rook tucked against his hip like a shadow.
Minutes stretched. The tolling faded. Somewhere, claws ticked on cobbles, then veered away as if the room stank of trouble. Twice, stones clattered, rooftops shifting under weight. The resonance murmured warning and reassurance by turns.
He kept his breathing slow, even when his throat threatened to seize. He wished for water he didn't have, wished for a radio, wished for a squad that knew his rhythms, wished for a world where the sky wasn't sewn together by light.
"Tomorrow," he told himself. "Scout. Find water. Find people. Figure out what these threads are." He looked down at the cub. "And find meat for you."
A scrape hissed along stone outside.
Elias's fingers tightened on the spear. He slid to the slit and peered out.
A figure crossed the mouth of the lane and froze, human height, lean, wrapped in a patchwork cloak. A hood shadowed the face. The figure turned its head, listening. Then, with a grace that wasn't scavenger jerky at all, it glided into cover and vanished.
Elias didn't breathe. He counted to thirty. The figure did not reappear.
Not a hallucination. Not a beast.
He sank back, sweat cooling on his skin.
"People," he murmured. His voice was a smoked rasp. "So where the hell were you when I was getting attacked?"
Rook nudged his ribs as if to say, You were busy.
Elias huffed a sound that might have been a laugh if he weren't so tired. He tightened the sling around his chest, just in case he needed to move fast. Then he eased down, one hand on the spear, the other draped protectively over the cub.
He let his eyes shutter but not close. Soldier sleep, thin as paper, ready to tear at the slightest wrong sound.
The wrong sound came five breaths later.
Not claws. Not rubble. A whisper of twine over wood.
He jerked his head aside on instinct.
A short, grey-fletched bolt hissed through the slit and thudded into the far wall where his temple had been.
Ash eddied in the draft.
Elias didn't swear. He didn't move. He listened.
Footsteps, light, careful, skated across the stones outside, then stilled.
A voice, low and sharp, filtered through the slit. "Drop the stick and come out slow."
Elias's burned throat scraped as he answered, soft enough not to echo. "How about you try that again without shooting at my head."
Silence. Then the faintest intake of breath, like the speaker hadn't expected him to sound… like this. Human. Angry. Unafraid.
Another voice, farther back, whispered fast in a language he didn't know. The resonance in his bones quivered, not warning exactly, anticipation. The world held its breath around a choice.
Elias glanced at Rook. The pup stared up at him, silver eyes bright, as if waiting to see what kind of man he chose to be.
He rolled his shoulders once, settled his grip on the spear, and angled his body toward the slit.
"On three," he said, as much to himself as to the strangers outside. "We try being neighbors."
He began to count.
"One…two…" Elias whispered.
Rook stirred at his side, ears pricked forward, gaze fixed on the doorway. The cub's body went tense, not with fear, but with something sharper. Awareness.
Elias almost swore. It wasn't just instinct. The pup was tracking the footsteps outside with its eyes, head tilting as though it understood the standoff. Too focused. Too damned smart for a half-starved cub.
"…three."
Elias shoved the shelf aside in a quick scrape of wood, spear leveled. He didn't step through the doorway. He crouched low, every muscle coiled, daring them to take the first move.
A shadow slipped across the mouth of the lane. The hooded figure from before. They held a small crossbow at the ready, string drawn, another grey fletched bolt notched. Their cloak brushed the ash as they shifted stance.
Closer now, Elias could see more. The figure's movements were too smooth for scavengers, precise the way soldiers were. The hood tipped, and the faint glow of ashlight caught on sharp cheekbones and pointed ears.
Elf.
Elias's pulse ticked higher. He'd grown up on fairy tales about elves, but none of them involved crossbows aimed at his chest.
The elf's voice was steady. "You bleed light when you kill. You're no scavenger."
Elias spat phlegm and ash into the street. "Glad we cleared that up. You always greet strangers with a shot to the head?"
"Strangers don't survive here."
"Yeah, I noticed," Elias said, voice flat. He shifted Rook closer against his chest. The cub growled faintly, a low, deliberate sound. It didn't sound like a pup bluffing. It sounded like a wolf measuring distance.
The elf's eyes flicked down. "That cub… not ordinary."
"No shit," Elias rasped. "Put the bow down, and maybe we talk like people."
For a long breath, silence ruled. Then the elf lowered the crossbow, though not all the way. Their posture was cautious, not trusting. Elias recognized it, he'd worn it himself a hundred times in villages overseas.
"You came from the Threads," the elf said. Not asked. Stated.
Elias frowned. "The what now?"
The elf's brow knit, as if measuring how much to say. "No outsider lives. Yet you stand. That means something."
"Means I'm too stubborn to stay dead," Elias said.
The elf studied him for another long moment, then finally slung the crossbow at their side. They stepped closer, hood slipping back enough to show pale hair and eyes that glinted like cut glass. Ageless, but tired.
"You should not be here," the elf said.
"Yeah I figured that out," Elias muttered.
Rook growled again, sharper this time. Elias felt it in his leg, a warning. The cub's gaze wasn't on the elf anymore, it tracked movement behind them.
The resonance hit Elias a heartbeat later. He twisted, spear snapping up.
From the rubble at the side of the lane, three scavengers burst forward, jaws gaping. Too fast, too close.
Elias drove the spear into the first throat. The elf loosed a bolt, dropping the second. The third lunged straight for Rook.
The cub moved before Elias did.
Rook twisted free of the sling in a blur of dark fur, hitting the beast square in the face. Tiny fangs sank into the scavenger's glowing hide, silver eyes blazing. The scavenger shrieked, light thrashing under its skin, and crashed into the ground with the cub still latched on.
"Rook!" Elias roared, shoving off the wall.
The scavenger writhed, slammed itself against stone, trying to dislodge the cub. Rook held fast, claws tearing lines of light. With a final jerk of its small head, the beast went limp, glow fading.
The cub staggered back, panting, chest heaving, but its gaze was sharp, deliberate. Calculated.
Elias froze. That wasn't just survival instinct. That was a kill made with precision.
The elf stared, crossbow lowering further. "That… is no ordinary beast."
Elias scooped Rook back into his arms, feeling the cub's trembling muscles, its quick pulse. "Yeah," he muttered. "I noticed."
The elf's gaze flicked between him and the cub, suspicion and something else, curiosity.
"You will not last the night alone," they said.
Elias snorted. "Is that an invite?"
The elf tilted their head, expression unreadable. "Follow me, if you want to live long enough to regret it."
Elias tightened his grip on the spear, studied the stranger, then looked down at Rook. The cub's silver eyes met his like it understood the choice.
And damned if that wasn't the scariest part.