Ashes of the Elite

I sit stiffly in the leather chair, my back ramrod straight, palms damp against my knees. The silence is suffocating. Count Ashland hasn't spoken a word since I stepped into his office no greeting, no lecture, not even a curse. Just a hate filled glare. Like I'm filth he hasn't yet decided whether to scrape off his boot or feed to the dogs. What a change from the first time I met him.

Cain leans casually against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes closed like he's about to nap. I envy his calm. Maybe he's used to this kind of tension. Or maybe he just doesn't care. Either way, I'm alone with my thoughts, and they're not being kind.

I didn't even get to see Howard.

Apparently, Count Ashland forbade it. Said I'd done enough damage to him already. I wanted to explain... apologize, at least. Not that it would've made much difference. But still. Not being given the chance stings more than I thought it would.

Time crawls. Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes into what feels like hours. I tap my fingers against my leg, then stop. Even that sound feels too loud in this room. Just when I think I might actually scream from the waiting—

Pop.

The air folds in on itself with a sharp crack, and then she's there, standing dead center in the room like she's always belonged. Tall as hell easily six foot with shoulders like she could break me in half on accident even if we weren't awakened with super strength. Her long red hair coils down her back like a flame barely contained, and her eyes deep, cold blue rake across the room with clinical precision.

She nods curtly to Count Ashland without smiling, then turns to Cain and raises her right hand to her heart in salute. "Spellbreaker Cain," she says, her voice light and almost musical so at odds with her warrior's frame that I almost laugh in surprise.

Cain opens his eyes and returns the salute lazily. He doesn't say a word. Then her gaze lands on me and her eyes narrow.