Chapter 244
Leah stared at me with those calm, almost vacant eyes. It was unsettling how composed she looked for someone caught in the act of treason. Her wrists were bound in enchanted iron, chains laced with protective runes etched by Nessa herself. The cell she was locked in had been dormant for decades—its magic old and angry.
"I want to speak to the Luna," Leah had said the moment they shackled her.
I was already on my way.
Roman insisted on coming with me, of course. He stood just behind me as we entered the holding chamber, arms crossed, every line of his body coiled tight.
Leah sat on the floor, spine straight, as if she were simply meditating.
"Why betray us?" I asked.
She smiled faintly. "I never belonged here. Not truly."
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the cold bars. "Then why stay? Why wait all this time?"
"Because the Ashborn don’t just burn from the outside," she said. "They grow from the cracks within. We study. We wait. We adapt."
Roman stepped in. "How many are in our walls?"
Leah’s gaze flicked to him. "You think I’d tell you? This isn’t the final play. Not even close."
"What is the final play, then?" I asked.
She tilted her head like a curious bird. "You’ll know when it comes. You’ll feel it in your bones before you ever see it."
That was all she said.
She refused to speak again, no matter what we asked.
We didn’t have time to linger on it.
Two hours after Leah was imprisoned, one of our southern lookouts sounded an alarm. A flare went up over the Thornbend pass.
That was a clear signal: Ashborn presence confirmed.
Roman and I were out the door within moments. Nessa and Ella joined us, blades drawn and gear tight. The pack warriors followed without question.
The trail led us through the dense pinewoods, the air thick with tension. We found the first body by the riverbank. One of ours. Scorched. Eyes wide open. His mouth sealed shut with ash sigils.
"They're silencing witnesses," Nessa growled.
Ella knelt beside the body, whispering a soft prayer before scanning the ground. "Tracks lead south. Multiple. Moving fast."
Roman looked at me. "They’re baiting us again."
"Then let’s take the bait. But on our terms."
We split the squad. Ella led a flanking group. Nessa stayed behind with a team to secure the dead. Roman and I took the core pursuit team.
We followed the tracks until we reached the Hollow Path—a narrow pass between two cliffs. A perfect choke point.
"Trap," Roman muttered.
"Absolutely," I said. "But we’re not the prey."
I raised a hand.
Two of our scouts darted forward, cloaked by charm veils. Seconds later, a single whistle cut through the air.
"Eight hostiles," Roman translated. "Armed. Waiting."
I signaled.
We moved in.
Chaos erupted.
Ashborn fighters spilled from the rocks like shadows. Arrows flew. Magic surged. I blocked a cursed blade with my vambrace, spun, and drove my dagger into a cloaked attacker’s side.
Roman fought like a storm—silent, controlled, lethal.
One Ashborn caught my wrist with a searing touch. The mark it left burned ice-cold, but I channeled it, sent it back through him, and watched him crumble.
By the time the last body fell, we were breathing hard, bloodied but alive.
"They didn’t expect resistance this strong," Roman said, scanning the area.
I crouched by one of the fallen Ashborn.
A familiar symbol peeked from beneath his collar.
"He was in our packhouse two weeks ago. Said he was a trader."
Roman hissed a curse. "They’ve infiltrated our guest lists."
I stood. "From now on, no one comes through our gates without a magical verification sweep. No exceptions. Not even for allies."
Back at the packhouse, the mood had shifted. Victory buzzed in the halls, but it was laced with paranoia. Ella organized immediate retraining for every warrior. Nessa doubled the sentry shifts.
But the real shift happened later that evening.
Roman and I returned to our quarters, still half-caked in ash and blood. I dropped my blade on the table and collapsed onto the couch.
He kicked off his boots and joined me, pulling me into his arms.
For a while, we didn’t speak.
Then he whispered, "You still believe we make it out of this?"
"I have to. Because if I don’t, none of this matters."
He kissed the side of my head. "I’ve been thinking... after this war, I want to take you away. Just for a while."
I laughed softly. "A Luna vacation? The world might implode."
"Let it," he murmured. "We deserve one day without fire."
I turned to face him. "You know we might not get that day."
"Then let’s steal pieces of it now. Little stolen hours. Like this one."
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For that small moment, I let myself pretend we weren’t in the middle of a war.
That we were just two people who loved each other.
And maybe that was enough.
The following morning, Nessa called us to the war room.
"Leah escaped."
The words hit like a punch.
"How?" Roman barked.
"We don’t know," Nessa said, eyes flint-hard. "No sign of forced locks. No guard testimony. She vanished."
I paced the chamber. "Magic. She had help. Maybe a sleeper agent. One of ours."
Wyatt entered next, clutching a scroll. "You need to see this. It was left on Leah’s cot."
I took it and unfurled the parchment.
For every wall you build, we learn to climb higher. For every secret you bury, we carve tunnels beneath it. The Hollow is only the beginning.
At the bottom, their newest mark:
The bleeding root wrapped in flame.
"They’re evolving," Roman said. "Faster than we are."
"Then we need to get ahead of them," I replied. "No more waiting for attacks. We go to them."
Roman turned to me slowly. "You want to strike the Hollow? The real one? The Ashborn stronghold?"
"Exactly that."
Nessa raised an eyebrow. "We don’t even know where it is."
"But Maeven might," I said. "And it’s time she earned the trust she asked for."
Roman gave a slow nod. "Then let’s start planning."
Because this time, we weren’t going to wait for fire to reach our walls.
We were going to take the flame straight to them.
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