The Ashbound had barely begun to regroup when a new procession appeared at the edge of dawn. At first, the warriors thought it was scattered flame—but the light was strange, flickering with both fire and smoke.
They came carrying torches unlike any the Ashbound had seen: flames that burned bright, yet trailed smoke that curled upward like memory. The torches did not falter, even in the wind.
Kael's hand went to his blade. "Who are they?"
Elira, weak but watchful, whispered, "Not shadow… not flame alone. Something bound between."
The strangers stepped forward. Their leader, a woman with ash-streaked hair and eyes that glowed faintly, raised her torch.
"We are the Emberkin. Keepers of hidden fire. When Marlic's storm first rose, we buried our torches in caves, letting them burn with smoke so shadow would not find us. For generations we endured in silence. But your forbidden binding called to us. Flame and shadow entwined—it is the sign we waited for."
The Ashbound murmured, astonished. Their numbers had been small, their strength fragile. Now, with the Emberkin's return, their torches blazed brighter, smoke rising like a vow.
Elira lifted her head, her voice steady despite exhaustion.
"Then dawn has given us more than breath. It has given us allies. Flame and smoke together—endurance and hope."
The Emberkin bowed, their torches burning with both fire and smoke. The war was not ended, but the Ashbound were no longer alone.