The sun bled over the horizon, staining the sky with streaks of crimson and gold. To most, it was a beautiful dawn — to Aren Vale, it was a reminder that another day of misery had begun.
The boy's shadow stretched long across the rocky ground as he made his way toward the mines. A pickaxe rested on his shoulder, its haft worn smooth from years of use. He was seventeen, but he looked younger — a narrow, malnourished figure with coal-dark hair and eyes that had long since learned how to hide pain.
Around him, Crystal Mine City stirred awake — a patchwork of crumbling huts and half-collapsed towers built atop veins of glowing Qi Crystals. The crystals pulsed faintly beneath the dirt, feeding the empire's endless hunger for power. To the nobles and sects of the Scarlet Phoenix Empire, Qi Crystals were currency, cultivation, and life itself.To the miners, they were chains.
"Move, gutter rat!"
A shove nearly sent Aren sprawling. A group of older miners, burly men wrapped in tattered armor, pushed past him toward the mine entrance. One of them spat into the dust. The spit glimmered with Qi — a small, cruel reminder that they could afford to waste strength he didn't have.
Aren said nothing. Words cost energy, and energy cost Qi Crystals — something he could never afford.
Inside the mines, torches burned low, their flames barely holding back the dark. The air was thick with dust, sweat, and despair. He moved to his assigned tunnel, a narrow passage where the supports were rotted and every swing of the pick threatened to bring the ceiling down.
Perfect. The others avoided this place. It meant fewer thieves.
He raised his pickaxe and struck the rock wall. Clang. The sound echoed endlessly.
Each blow sent small shards of stone scattering. Sometimes, the rock revealed a faint glimmer — the sign of Qi Crystals buried inside. Aren pried one loose, holding it up to the dim torchlight. The crystal shimmered faintly, threads of silver mist swirling inside.
"One," he muttered. Nineteen more for the day's quota. Twenty crystals to eat. Twenty to sleep under a roof. The price of being alive.
He kept working.
Hours passed. Sweat soaked his shirt; blisters tore open on his palms. When his pick finally struck a pocket of glowing ore, Aren felt a flicker of triumph — five crystals, maybe six.
That flicker died the moment he heard footsteps behind him.
"Well, well," a sneering voice said. "The rat's found himself a feast."
Aren turned. Derrik Dune, son of the city's overseer — a thick-shouldered brute in miner's leathers, flanked by four followers. Their smirks were identical: predators circling prey.
"Good afternoon, Derrik," Aren said quietly. "There's still untouched veins further down. You don't have to—"
A fist cut him off, slamming into his stomach. Air fled his lungs; the pickaxe clattered to the ground.
"Don't have to what?" Derrik growled. "You think you can tell me where to dig, orphan?"
The others laughed. One of them grabbed Aren's sack, shook it open, and counted the crystals with mock surprise. "Twenty-two already. Look at that. Overachiever."
Aren tried to rise, but a kick drove him down again. Pain burst through his ribs. Blood filled his mouth.
"Please," he rasped. "Just… leave me two."
"Oh, you'll get what you deserve." Derrik's boot came down once more.
When they finally left, Aren lay among the scattered stones, coughing. His sack was gone. So were his crystals. He stared up at the jagged ceiling until the dust blurred his vision.
So this is the law of the world, he thought bitterly. The strong take. The weak bleed.
He crawled back to his corner of the orphanage by dusk. The matron — a sharp-faced woman named Mistress Cole — barely glanced at his bruised face as she counted his empty hands.
"No crystals?" she said coldly. "Then no food."
Aren said nothing. He limped to his bed and collapsed, bones aching, hunger gnawing.Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, he'd work harder.
But tomorrow never promised mercy.
The next day, Derrik and his gang waited for him outside the mines. This time, they didn't stop at theft. They beat him until he could no longer move.
By nightfall, he was dragged before Verrick Dune, Derrik's father and master of the Grunn Forge Company — the man who ruled Crystal Mine City with his fists.
"So," Verrick said, looking down at the broken boy, "you struck my son?"
Aren struggled to speak through swollen lips. "He—he attacked first."
Verrick's meaty hand closed around his throat. "The law doesn't care who started it. My word is the law."
"Please," Aren croaked. "I didn't—"
"Enough." Verrick dropped him like trash. "Hang him tomorrow. Let the city watch what happens to those who defy their betters."
Aren was thrown into a dark cell. The smell of damp earth filled his nose. Through the small window, he could see the gallows being built.
For a while, he simply stared.
Then, with trembling fingers, he reached for the pendant that hung around his neck — a loop of string, bearing a small red charm shaped like a bird aflame. He had worn it his entire life, never knowing what it was or where it came from.
"Mother," he whispered. "If you're still out there… I'm sorry. I tried."
He closed his eyes. Sleep came like surrender.
Morning.
The crowd gathered under the gallows, whispering. Verrick stood proudly beside his son, who wore bandages and a smug grin.
Aren was dragged forward, chains biting into his wrists. His face was pale but calm. He had no more strength left for fear.
The noose slid over his neck, coarse rope scraping his skin. The world felt strangely quiet.
"Any last words?" Verrick mocked.
Aren looked up at the rising sun — the same crimson fire that had burned over him every morning.He smiled faintly.
"Yeah," he said. "You'll burn before I do."
The lever dropped.
The rope snapped taut—
—and the world exploded in light.
A searing heat flared against his chest; the pendant burst into flame, wings of scarlet fire unfolding around him. The crowd gasped as the fire swallowed him whole, burning brighter, brighter still—until nothing remained but smoke and an empty noose swaying in the wind.
Verrick Dune stumbled back, eyes wide.The boy was gone.
Only the faint cry of a phoenix echoed across the dawn.
✅ End of Chapter 1: "Ashes in the Mine"