The heat came first. Subtle at first light, then thick enough to cling to the back of the throat. Midday rose over Blackridge like a sealed forge, and by noon, the plains shimmered with a strange golden haze.
Riku stood alone at the outer ridge, watching as shapes flickered in the distance—at first formless, then resolving into figures.
They approached slowly, unarmed but not defenseless. Skin the color of burnt clay, patterns of glowing ash stitched across their shoulders and arms like ritual scars. Their movements were fluid, careful, never breaking their formation.
Sira spotted them first from the eastern perch. "Not beasts," she called, voice tight, "not sovereign scouts either."
Kael joined him on the ridge. "Wandering tribe?"
"Not sure."
The strangers stopped a hundred paces out. One stepped forward—taller than the rest, robed in layered volcanic fibers, their face hidden beneath an ember-glass mask. Steam vented softly from the breathing slits.
Riku waited. He didn't raise his weapon. Not yet.
When the figure spoke, their voice came low, reverberating faintly like heat ripples on stone.
"We are the Pale Flame. The mist told us of your fire."
Riku remained silent, studying them. No sudden movement. No obvious deception.
The emissary continued. "Our roots are burning. Beasts from the deep plains drive us north. In exchange for sanctuary beneath your ridge, we offer guidance. Flame-root saplings. They pulse with the earth's veins. Feed them, and your walls will never grow cold."
Riku glanced at Kael. Quiet calculations passed between them.
"And what do you want beyond shelter?" Riku asked, voice measured.
The emissary inclined their head. "A pact. No oaths, no chains. Only fire shared."
Behind them, the others lowered their ember sacks—small bundles of volcanic root, carefully wrapped and still faintly glowing.
It wasn't lost on Riku how vulnerable the Pale Flame appeared. No weapons, no beasts, no fortress. But something about them spoke of survival, not weakness. They had crossed the volcanic basin alone. That meant something.
"Show us," Riku said finally.
The emissary knelt by the outer trench, where the ash was thin. With a slow, deliberate movement, they planted a single sapling. It pulsed once, faint and red, then sent thin veins of warmth through the cracked earth. The heat diffused outward, subtle but real.
Kael crouched beside it, running his fingers across the soil. "Feels stable. Controlled."
Riku gave the order without hesitation. "Plant two more. Inside the first defense line."
The Pale Flame nodded. No celebration, no pride—just quiet agreement.
But peace never lasted long.
A sharp whistle cracked from the western watch. Sira's voice rang out, sharp and clear.
"Movement—west ridge! Incoming beasts—fast, small, five bodies!"
Riku's mind shifted instantly. "Get the Pale Flame inside the trench. Now."
He sprinted toward the western barricade, Kael and a pair of glaive warriors on his heels.
From the mist burst sleek, low-bodied creatures, pale like dust, moving too fast to be wild. Their claws were iron-tipped, their movements precise.
Not beasts. Hounds. Trained.
Sovereign scouts.
Riku cursed under his breath. Someone was watching. Testing them.
"Intercept. No survivors."
His glaive hummed as he met the first hound mid-leap, splitting it clean. Kael and the warriors handled the others, coordinated, efficient. The fight was quick. Quiet.
When the dust settled, only the faint pulse of heat from the newly planted saplings broke the stillness.
Riku wiped his blade clean, scanning the ridge. Whoever sent those scouts hadn't revealed themselves. But they knew now that AshEdge wasn't alone out here.
He ordered the hound corpses burned before sundown. No remains left for other scouts to study.
That night, the Pale Flame emissary met him again beside the forge.
"You have danger at your walls. Deeper than beasts. If you wish to survive, we will guide you to the hollow ruins beyond the ridge. There is power there, but only if you claim it first."
Riku studied the glow of the saplings as they warmed the outer defenses.
"Show me tomorrow."
The emissary bowed once, a shallow motion, then disappeared into the shadows of the camp.
Riku remained alone beside the forge until the fires dimmed.
The world was growing smaller. But his reach was growing longer.
And now, somewhere beyond the western ridge, another sovereign would wonder why their scouts never returned.