Kaelen kept his hand near the hilt of his sword, watching the glint in Mireya's eyes. "What's your price?"
She took a slow step closer, the river's mist curling around her boots. "Gold is useless in the Ashlands. What I need is rarer—something only you can take."
Kaelen frowned. "And that is?"
She pulled down her mask, revealing a scar that curved like a crescent moon from her cheek to her jaw. "There's a fortress at the Ash Veil's edge, guarded by the Warden's hounds. Inside, they keep a prisoner. He's… important to me. I want him freed."
"That's suicide," Kaelen said flatly.
Mireya's lips curved in a shadow of a smile. "Which is exactly why I'm not going in. You are."
He glanced at the parchment in her hand. "And the map?"
"You get the map after you bring him out alive," she said. "But fail… and the Veil will swallow you whole."
Kaelen hesitated. Everything in him screamed not to trust her, yet the path to the Ember Warden lay hidden beyond a wall of ash and death. Without her knowledge, he'd be walking blind.
Finally, he nodded. "What's his name?"
Her voice softened for the first time. "Orien."
The name stirred something faint in Kaelen's memory, though he couldn't place it. Mireya must have noticed, because her eyes narrowed. "You've heard of him?"
Kaelen didn't answer. Instead, he took the shard of obsidian from his pocket, letting its cold pulse steady his resolve. "I'll bring him back. But if this is a trap—"
Mireya chuckled, pulling her mask back up. "Then you'll die. Either way, the Ashlands get what they want."