Chapter 95: Flamefront
The first step onto scorched earth felt heavier than it should. Leon pressed forward. The ground beneath his boots was blackened stone, still warm with traces of something ancient. Every breath tasted of ash.
The others followed close. Behind them, the bridge cracked—just slightly—as if warning there would be no turning back.
The ash-beasts did not attack.
They circled.
Shapes towered along the edges of the ruined hills—silent, monstrous. Some drifted like smoke. Others crouched low with heads that brushed broken spires. The air around them shimmered. Not from heat. From something else. Something watching.
"They’re not moving yet," Callen said quietly.
"They’re waiting," Mira replied, daggers drawn.
"For what?" Tomas asked.
Elena narrowed her eyes at the horizon. "To see if we burn like the others."
The boy said nothing.
They kept walking. Through broken streets and melted stone. Towers leaned against each other like dying trees. In one place, they passed a field of statues—people turned to glass mid-scream. Frozen in the moment of death.