The highway into the lands of Lucian wasn't a highway at all. It was an earth graveyard, ravined and burned, where the ground beneath every step dissolved into ash and the wind flavored of smoke and metal. Skeleton lines of trees stood like dead sentinels, their limbs contorted up toward the heavens in silent wails. The further they went into the Deadlands, the more silent the survivors grew. Even the strongest among them walked as though fearful their very tread would rouse something ancient and malevolent.
Adriana walked at the lead, her cloak ripped and smeared dark with coal dust. Each ragged breath she took bore the burden of leadership—of lives forfeit and lives still hanging by her choices. She felt their gazes on her back, all of them wondering silently if she truly had the mettle to lead them into the wolf's maw.
She never slowed.
Damian walked beside her, his pace steady, grounding. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword with the automatic readiness of a man born to kill, but his eyes flicked back and forth over her face, catching the fatigue on her face, the strain in the set of her jaw.
Behind them walked Elara, hood up, shoulders hunched forward, half silhouette, half question mark. The group didn't trust her not because of what she'd done one time, and certainly not because of their commander's inferno. Their distrust remained like a knife held at her throat. As often as she tripped or mumbled an incantation through her lips, one of the guards' hands gripped more tightly on a sword or knife.
Adriana had caught on. That was why she braked, shifted slightly, and spoke up so everyone could hear.
Distrust uses up energy we can ill afford," she stated, her voice cool. "Lucian lives off breakage. If Elara wanted us killed, she's had a dozen opportunities. We're still living because she hasn't taken them.
The murmurs of discontent simmered but quieted. Elara's eyes met Adriana's for the briefest heartbeat a flicker of gratitude, or maybe relief.
He didn't answer. But when Adriana took another step toward him, his hand lightly, automatically touched hers, as though he were saying: Are you quite sure of this?
She pressed back, the barest pressure. No answer, but a promise.
I sat for hours and Elara suddenly stopped short at the ridge top.
Wait," she breathed, dropping to her knees. Her white fingers caressed the dust. Under the surface, thin lines shone, curved and splintered, throbbing with an unhealthy red light.
A sigil," she said clenched-tight. "Step the wrong way, and it calls the shades.
The men shifted uncomfortably. One of them spitted into the pile of ash. "Convenient, that only she happens to notice."
Adriana held up a hand for quiet. She knelt beside Elara, who was reading the thin glowing text. Even not knowing the magic itself, she could sense the poison within it, thrumbing like a heartbeat under the ground.
She's right," Adriana stated matter-of-factly. "That's the doing of Lucian
Elara spoke slowly, her voice panicked. "We have to unweave it. Gently. A wrong breath and it will detonate."
The men grumbled, but the voice of Damian sliced like metal. "Back off. Let her alone. She falls, we all burn with her."
Elara's hands shook as she followed the outline of the sigil, whispering an anticurse. The earth spat sparks, the smoke rising in wisps. Adriana stood her ground, immovable, although her heart pounded.
And, with the hiss of a dying snake, the sigil flared and expired. The light went out.
The soldiers exhaled relief.
Elara sat back down, sweat beading on her forehead. When her gaze rose, it didn't quite connect with Adriana's first. It met Damian's probing, nearly entreating.
He didn't thank her either. But he didn't treat her like she was already dead for the first time.
The surviving men bivouacked in the hollow of a broken-down watchtower. The dark and puffy sky above, the clouds twisting as if they held the face of a god who would not look upon this world.
Adriana sat alone, her back against a toppled wall, her arm throbbing where the flames had kissed her days back. She had not approached the scrape properly. She had had no time.
"You'll scar," Damian's voice hissed.
She stared up at him. He knelt down next to her, a piece of white cloth gripped in his fingers, a small flask of water at his belt. His black eyes burned warmer now, lit up with something he rarely showed.
"You're fussing," she teased, though her voice was worn.
"Someone has to."
He splashed the cloth with the water and held it lightly over her burn. She winced from the burn, but didn't back off.
Both sat quietly for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was the sizzling of the night under the flames of the campfire and the distant wail of the Deadlands wind.
You just carry them," Damian spoke finally, his voice biting. "All their hopes. All their doubts. It will break you, Adriana.".
She gazed at his face for a second, her throat tightening. "If I don't do it, who will?"
Me," he said softly.
She blinked.
He tied the cloth around her arm carefully, his calloused hands brushing her skin. His fingers lingered longer than they should've. When he looked up, their faces were closer nearer than they had ever been.
Damian." Her voice stumbled.
"I promised I'd save you because you're the only one who can kill him," Damian whispered. "But now it's more than that. I" He paused, face drawing up hard, grasping for the words again. "Once it is over…"
Her chest pounded. "When it is over?" she whispered.
He searched her eyes, his mouth opening as though to admit
Just a burst of red lit up the horizon, cutting the night like a wound.
Both sprang up instantly. The flare distorted into a sigil in the sky, blazing like a red brand.
Lucian's aut.
Deep into the wasteland, Lucian stood at the top of a rocky cliff, his black cloak whipping through the wind. His pale eyes shone as he sketched the sigil through the air with a fingertip, tracing the image that rode over Adriana's camp.
"March faster, little flame," he murmured. "Every step you take, I see you. Every heartbeat you waste on that soldier weakens your fire."
A distorted smile warped his mouth. "And when I pull him away from you, you'll truly comprehend despair."
The scream had awoken the entire camp.
Adriana held her sword even prior to her eyelids opening. Darkness rolled over the world, swift and dense, taking shape into hulking shapes with eyes of glowing coals. The spectral horrors descended, their bodies fashioned from ash and smoke, their fangs smeared with ember-glow.
Form the line!" shouted Damian.
Steel clashed with smoke, but the creatures didn't die. They were only sliced apart for a moment and they re-formed, thicker, darker.
Adriana fought like fire itself, every strike precise, desperate. Damian was a wall beside her, blade flashing, shield shattering jaws that lunged too close. Still, they were losing ground.
Fall back," yelled somebody.
"No!" Adriana cut one creature's throat, only to watch it reassemble itself. "They will feed on us if we split up!"
A cry pierced the chaos. Elara was at the war's perimeter, her arms raised. Black sigils crawled up her arms like burning shackles.
"Non!" cried Damian, his sword lodged within the jaws of a monster. "That spell will burn you up!"
Elara's eyes shone, tears flowing. "Then let it!"
Her voice rose, words jagged with forbidden power. The sigils on her arms flared white-hot. One of the beasts shrieked, its smoky form convulsing before collapsing into dust.
The others recoiled, hissing.
Elara staggered, blood streaming from her nostrils, but she stood up again. Another beast crashed down.
Adriana rushed forward, knocking down a third as Damian knocked down the fourth. The remnant huddled together, hope renewed.
Minutes passed, and silence reigned. The final monster evaporated into dust.
Elara collapsed on her knees, shivering, charred where the magic had scalded her.
Nobody spoke for a very long time. Then one of the men who'd suspected her the most stood up, took her gently by the arm, and stood her up.
Damian sat, motionless. His distrust did not leave him but something changed within his eyes.
Then, when the dead were reduced to ash and the living were calm, Adriana saw Damian by himself, sharpening his knife under the light of the blazing fire.
She sat beside him, fatigue weighing upon her bones. They sat there silently for a moment.
"You were right," Damian said at last, his voice hard. "About her. Tonight she stood for us. For you."
Adriana looked at him. His face was shadow and firelight, but his eyes gleamed steadily.
"You doubted me?" She taunted weakly.
"I distrust everything," he told her. "Except you."
Her breath caught.
He tightened his fingers more securely around the hilt of his sword and let it slide slowly, deliberately, through her grasp. His fingers pressed hers instead, hard but cautious.
When this is over," he whispered, his voice heavier than any oath he'd ever sworn, "I'm not going to let you walk away from me.".
The words pierced her, left her raw. She couldn't speak, not without breaking. Instead, she turned her hand, letting her fingers intertwine with his. The silence between them said more than words could bear.
High above, unseen, he gazed from the ridge. His smile was hard, merciless. Good," he whispered. "Love her, soldier. Break her, and she will burn herself out for me. The wind bore his laughter into the evening.