WebNovels

Chapter 22 - Ash on the wind

the road east was quiet. too quiet for cass's liking.

he kicked a pebble down the dirt path and watched it roll into the grass. "y'know," he muttered, "for a world supposedly crawling with assassins and monsters, this part's kinda… boring."

lynx padded ahead, ears flicking. "you complain when there's trouble, and when there isn't."

"yeah," cass said. "but at least when there's trouble, i feel useful."

mira smiled faintly from the rear. "careful what you wish for."

rowan didn't speak. he walked a few steps ahead of the group, coat flaring behind him with the wind. his hand brushed the revolver at his side now and then — a twitch of habit, or paranoia. maybe both.

the world around them had begun to change. the snow thinned into patches, revealing stubborn green grass beneath. the smell of pine replaced the sting of frost. birds sang again, distant and uncertain, like the world wasn't sure if it was allowed to heal yet.

"feels weird," cass said after a while. "like the world's pretending nothin' happened back there."

rowan finally glanced back. "it's good at that."

"yeah, but we're not," cass replied, half-grinning.

the smile didn't last.

---

by noon, they reached an old rest stop — a half-collapsed barn by the edge of a wheat field, long abandoned but still standing like a stubborn memory.

"let's stop here," mira said. "we could use the shelter."

cass groaned dramatically. "finally. my feet are staging a rebellion."

lynx leapt up onto a broken beam and sniffed the air. "no mana traces. no traps. just dust."

rowan nodded. "then it's perfect."

they dropped their packs, and for the first time since greyspire, the silence wasn't laced with danger. just wind, creaking wood, and the faint hum of distant fields.

mira found a rusted lantern and lit it, the warm glow pushing back the gloom. "we'll rest for a few hours," she said. "then move before dusk."

cass was already sprawled on the hay, arms behind his head. "wake me up when the world ends."

lynx snorted. "that might be sooner than you think."

---

rowan sat by the doorway, staring out over the fields. the wind stirred the tall grass like waves, glinting gold beneath the afternoon sun. he wasn't sure why, but it reminded him of his father — the way he used to talk about freedom, about the horizon being something you had to chase even if it never stopped running.

he didn't notice mira until she sat beside him, her cloak brushing his arm.

"you're quiet," she said.

he shrugged. "thinking."

"about him?"

"always."

mira watched his profile for a moment — the way the light caught in his white hair, the faint shadow beneath his eyes. "you carry him like a weight."

"i carry him because someone has to," rowan said softly. "the world remembers his mistakes. i'm trying to remember his hope."

mira's gaze softened. "maybe you should start remembering your own."

that earned her a small, genuine smile — the kind that didn't stay long but felt real when it did.

"maybe," he said.

---

hours passed. cass snored, lynx prowled lazily through the hay, and the light outside began to shift — turning the fields to liquid gold.

mira dozed against the wall, her sword still within reach. rowan stayed awake, fingers drumming lightly on his knee. he couldn't rest. his mana was still unstable, pulsing beneath his skin like a restless heartbeat. every time he closed his eyes, he saw greyspire's explosion again — halden's sneer, the light, the heat.

he rubbed his temples. "breathe," he muttered to himself. "just breathe."

but the air around him shimmered faintly — blue static dancing across his gloves. the wood beside him cracked under the sudden surge.

mira woke instantly. "rowan?"

he flinched, eyes flashing gold before fading back to normal. "it's fine," he said hoarsely. "just… slipped."

she frowned, moving closer. "that's not nothing. it's getting worse, isn't it?"

he didn't answer.

"rowan."

his silence said enough.

mira sighed, lowering her voice. "you can't keep bottling it. your mana's not like anyone else's — it's divine energy, not mortal. if you keep forcing it—"

"i know," he snapped, sharper than he meant to.

the echo lingered. lynx's tails flicked, cass stirred.

rowan sighed, rubbing his face. "sorry. i just… don't know what else to do."

mira looked at him — not with anger, but with understanding. "then let us help. you're not alone in this."

he met her eyes. "aren't i?"

the question hung heavy in the air.

outside, the wind shifted — soft, hollow, carrying the faint sound of bells from somewhere far off.

lynx's ears perked. "we're not alone," she murmured.

cass sat up groggily. "what? already?"

mira was on her feet, blade drawn. "bells mean scouts. phoenix patrols use them to mark territory."

rowan stood slowly, pulling his revolver. "then they're close."

the sound grew louder — not one bell, but several, moving through the fields. shadows flickered in the tall wheat, glinting with metal and gold.

cass swore under his breath. "guess nap time's over."

---

the first arrow hit the barn door.

lynx leapt down, fur bristling, tails sparking with mana. cass dove for his rifle. mira was already moving — slicing through the door hinges and kicking it open to meet the enemy head-on.

phoenix soldiers — half a dozen of them — advanced through the fields, armor marked with the same serpent-and-sun crest that haunted rowan's bounty poster.

"rowan ainsworth!" one of them shouted. "by order of the phoenix family, you are to surrender—"

rowan fired.

the man didn't finish his sentence.

cass groaned. "guess we're not negotiating."

"never was good at that," rowan muttered.

the barn erupted into chaos — gunfire, mana flares, steel against steel. lynx weaved through the fight like a bolt of blue lightning, knocking soldiers off their feet. mira struck fast and silent, every movement precise. cass covered from the rafters, picking off anyone who got too close.

rowan moved through it all like a storm — revolver in one hand, mana flaring around the other. each shot hit like thunder, each burst of power leaving scorch marks across the ground.

when the last soldier fell, the only sound left was the wind.

smoke curled through the shattered doorway. the wheat field burned in patches, glowing orange under the setting sun.

cass exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. "man, you royals sure know how to ruin a nap."

rowan holstered his gun, scanning the bodies. "they weren't scouts," he said quietly. "they were trackers. they knew where we'd be."

mira sheathed her blade. "then someone's feeding them information."

rowan's gaze hardened. "or something is."

lynx's tails swayed, her voice low. "then we move now. before nightfall."

rowan nodded once. "pack up. valecrest won't wait."

---

as they left the burning barn behind, the bells still echoed faintly in the distance — ghostly and endless.

and though rowan didn't say it out loud, he knew:

the phoenix family wasn't hunting him anymore.

they were closing in.

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