Chapter 6 Hail’s POV:

Chapter 5- Ember’s POV

The night felt endless, the forest pressing in on all sides. I stumbled after Hail, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The ridiculous cuff on my wrist throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each pulse a reminder of what I’d lost. It wasn’t just my fire, it was my strength, my freedom, everything that made me… fucking me. The ground beneath my boots felt like it was tilting, the trees blurring together into a dark haze. I wanted to stop. I wanted to rip the damn cuff off, scream, burn everything around me to ash, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

Hail didn’t speak as we moved, his steps quick and purposeful. His blade was still out, the edge catching the faint light of the moon, and his shoulders were tense, ready for another attack. I hated how calm he looked. Like this was all just another job for him, another night spent running from the people who wanted him dead. But it wasn’t just his fight anymore. Now, they wanted me too.

“Stop,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. Hail kept walking, his pace never faltering. “I said fucking stop!” He froze mid-step, his shoulders stiffening before he turned to face me. His gray eyes met mine, cold and unreadable, the scar along his jaw catching the faint light. “What?” he asked, his voice low. I stepped closer, my fists clenched. “You knew they were coming. You knew this was going to happen.” His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

“Who the fuck were they?” I demanded. “And don’t give me that ‘it’s not your concern’ bullshit. They tried to kill me too, remember?” He sighed, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade like he was resisting the urge to use it. “They’re mercenaries. Hired by someone who wants me dead. That’s all you need to know.” “That’s all I need to know?” I laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking serious? You’ve dragged me into your mess, and now they’re after both of us. If I’m going to keep running for my life, I think I deserve a little honesty.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze shifted to the shadows, scanning the trees like he was searching for an escape. Finally, he said, “They’re not after you, Ember. They want me. You’re just…collateral.” “Collateral,” I repeated, the word tasting like ash. He met my glare head-on, his expression hard. “This isn’t personal.” I stepped closer, my voice dropping. “It is now.”

I turned away, my pulse pounding in my ears. Anger flared in my chest, hot and suffocating, but the cuff snuffed it out before it could take root. He was lying. Or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t trust him. But the worst part? I couldn’t ignore the flicker of something familiar in his voice. The way he talked about running, fighting, and surviving. Like he wasn’t just doing this for a paycheck. Like he was doing it because he didn’t know how to stop.

The forest felt different now, the shadows darker, heavier. Even the air seemed charged, thick with tension. Hail noticed it too. He tilted his head, his body going rigid. “We need to keep moving,” he said, his voice tight. “Why?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

His eyes darted to the trees, his hand tightening on his blade. “We’re not alone.”

I felt it before I heard it, a faint tremor beneath my boots, so subtle I thought I’d imagined it. “Hail,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know,” he said, his tone grim.

The ground shook again, harder this time, and a sound cut through the silence, a low, guttural growl that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “What is that?” I whispered, my chest tightening. Hail’s jaw clenched. “Trouble.”

The growl came again, closer this time, followed by the crash of trees snapping in the distance. Hail stepped in front of me, his blade gleaming in the moonlight. “Stay behind me,” he said, his voice steady. Before I could argue, the shadows ahead shifted, and something huge emerged from the darkness. Its eyes glowed like molten gold, and its skin was cracked and blackened, faint lines of fire visible beneath the surface. It stood on two legs, towering over us, its claws dragging deep grooves into the ground as it moved. The fire-born weren’t done with us yet.

Hail didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. The creature roared, swinging one massive claw at him, but he dodged, the edge of the attack missing him by inches. “Move, Ember!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I stumbled back, my pulse pounding in my ears. My fire surged instinctively, desperate to rise, but the cuff burned against my skin, forcing it back down. Hail struck again, his blade carving deep into the creature’s side. Embers spilled from the wound, glowing faintly before fading into ash.

The creature roared, its molten eyes locking onto me. I froze, the weight of the cuff dragging me down as it charged. “Ember, now!” Hail’s voice was sharp, desperate. I moved, just as the ground where I’d been standing exploded into flame. We weren’t going to survive this. Not unless I found a way to fight back.

Chapter 6- Hail’s POV

The forest was a labyrinth of shadows, each step heavier than the last. The battle with the fire-born had left its mark on both of us. My arms ached from the weight of my blade, and every breath burned in my chest. Ember wasn’t faring much better. She followed close behind, her steps uneven, the faint glow of the cuff on her wrist, a reminder of everything she’d lost.

“We need to stop,” I said, scanning the horizon for shelter. She didn’t argue, which told me everything I needed to know about how bad it had gotten.

The cabin appeared out of nowhere, half-hidden by the dense trees. It wasn’t much, just four crumbling walls and a sagging roof, but it was enough. “We’ll rest here,” I said, pushing the door open. Inside, the air was damp and cold, the faint scent of mildew hanging in the air. A broken table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by mismatched chairs. A stone hearth dominated one wall; its chimney cracked but intact. Ember collapsed into one of the chairs, her head falling back as she let out a long breath. “Charming,” she muttered, her voice thick with exhaustion. I dropped my pack by the door, moving to the hearth. “It’ll do.” She didn’t respond, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth spreading through the small cabin. I leaned back against the wall, my blade resting across my knees. Ember had shifted to the floor, her back against the hearth. The firelight cast golden hues across her face, softening the sharp angles and highlighting the curve of her jaw. For a moment, she looked younger, untouched by the weight of her many lives. “You don’t sleep much, do you?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Not if I can help it,” I said, keeping my eyes on the flames. “Why?” I hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. “Bad dreams.” Her laugh was soft, bitter. “Yeah. I know how that goes.”

She leaned her head back against the stone, her eyes half-closed. “I used to think the dreams were the worst part. But it’s the waking up that gets you. Realizing you’re still here. That nothing’s changed.” There was a rawness to her words that caught me off guard. “What about you?” I asked, trying to shift the focus. “When’s the last time you slept?” She smiled faintly, the expression more sad than amused. “Before I died. So…a while.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not great company tonight.” “I’ve had worse,” I said.

She turned to me then, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. “What about you? What kind of hunter carries scars like that?” I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my blade. “You don’t have to tell me, “She added softly. “But I think you want to.” The words hung between us, and for a moment, I thought about brushing her off. But something about the way she was looking at me, like she wasn’t just curious, but like she might actually understand, made me stop. “I used to have a life,” I said finally, my voice low. “A family.” She didn’t interrupt, but her eyes softened, the sharp edges of her gaze dulling slightly. “They’re gone now,” I continued, the words tasting bitter. “Taken by the same people who gave me this.” I held up my arm, the faint lines of the cursed mark visible even in the firelight. Her gaze lingered on the mark, and for a moment, I thought she might reach out to touch it. But she didn’t.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths. “I don’t trust you,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “I don’t expect you to,” I replied. “But I think I understand you,” she added, surprising me. “More than I want to.” Her words hit harder than they should have, cutting through the walls I’d spent years building. I looked away, focusing on the fire. “Get some rest,” I said.

She didn’t move right away, her gaze lingering on me. Then, slowly, she shifted closer to the heat, her body relaxing slightly as the fire’s warmth wrapped around her. “You never answered my question,” she said, her voice softer now. “Which one?” “Why you brought me here. Why you didn’t just hand me over to whoever sent you.” I met her gaze, the firelight reflecting in her golden eyes. “Because I couldn’t.” “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” she pressed. “Does it matter?” Her lips twitched into a faint smile, and for the first time, the tension between us seemed to ease.

The fire crackled, the only sound in the room. She leaned her head against the hearth, her eyes drifting shut, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. “You talk in your sleep,” I said suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. Her eyes opened, narrowing slightly. “I do not.”

“You do,” I said, smirking. “Something about fire and ash. And vengeance.” Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she looked away, muttering something under her breath. “What was that?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. “I said, you’re insufferable,” she shot back, but there was no real bite to her words. The wind howled outside, carrying the faint echo of distant voices. They weren’t far. And when they found us, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the strength to protect her, or if I’d even want to let her go.

The fire had burned low, embers casting faint shadows across the cabin’s broken walls. Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it the sound of creaking branches and distant whispers of the wild. Ember sat by the hearth, her golden eyes reflecting the glow of the flames. Her fiery hair fell in disarray over her shoulders, streaked with soot and tangled from the night’s chaos. She looked exhausted but defiant, her back straight even as weariness tugged at her frame. I leaned against the far wall, my blade resting across my knees. Watching her was dangerous, I knew that, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re staring,” she said, her voice sharp but soft, cutting through the silence. “You’re hard not to stare at,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could stop them. She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” “Take it however the fuck you want,” I said, turning my gaze back to the fire.

The quiet stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually, she pushed herself up from her spot on the floor, rolling her shoulders as she stretched her arms over her head. Her jacket rode up, the fabric catching briefly on her ribs and exposing a sliver of skin above her waistband. I didn’t mean to look, but my eyes lingered anyway. Her stomach was smooth, toned, the kind of strength born from survival. For a moment, I let myself wonder what it would feel like to touch her, to trace the lines of her body and see if her skin burned as brightly as her soul. I clenched my jaw and forced my gaze away. “You’re quiet,” she said, lowering her arms. “Planning our next death-defying escape?” “Something like that,” I muttered, adjusting my grip on the blade. She smirked, the faintest trace of amusement lighting her face.

“You know,” she said, her tone more thoughtful now, “I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell happened to this place. It wasn’t always like this, was it?” “No,” I admitted. “It wasn’t.”

The world had been dying long before either of us were born, but the cataclysm had come quickly when it did. Fires that swallowed cities whole, storms that tore the land apart, and something darker, something no one wanted to name. “We stopped asking why a long fucking time ago,” I said. “Now, it’s just about surviving.” She frowned, her golden eyes flicking to the window, where the faint outline of twisted trees loomed against the night. “Doesn’t seem like much of a life.” “It’s not,” I said simply.

She sat back down, crossing her legs beneath her. “What year is it, anyway? Do people still keep track of that sort of thing?” I hesitated. “2157. At least, that’s what they say.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Hearing it makes it feel so much worse.”

I couldn’t argue with that. The world didn’t feel like it had years left in it, let alone centuries.

“What about the cities?” she asked, her voice softer now. “The ones that are still standing. Do you ever go through them?” “Sometimes,” I said. “Not often.” Cities were dangerous. Even the ones that hadn’t been swallowed by the wild were ruled by gangs, warlords, and worse. A place like that would swallow someone like Ember whole, or sell her to the highest bidder.

The fire crackled as she leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Do you think there’s anywhere left that’s safe?” Her question caught me off guard. She wasn’t just asking about the world; she was asking about herself. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But if there is, I’ll get you there.” She blinked, her golden eyes searching mine. For a moment, the distance between us felt smaller, the air between us warmer. Then she smirked, leaning back against the hearth. “Bold promise, hunter.”

When dawn crept through the cracks in the walls, the fire had burned to ash. Ember stirred, her movements slow and deliberate as she stretched again, rolling her neck and shoulders. Her jacket shifted, revealing her collarbone and the faint curve of her neck. My gaze caught for just a second too long before I forced myself to look away. “Do you ever sleep?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep. “Not if I can help it,” I said, echoing my words from the night before. She smirked faintly, her hair falling over one shoulder as she tied it back. “You’re going to burn out.” “Maybe,” I said.

As we packed up, the world outside the cabin seemed quieter than usual. The stillness was unsettling, a reminder that the fire-born and the mercenaries weren’t the only threats out here. “We’ll head toward the western ridge,” I said, adjusting the strap on my pack.

“What’s there?” she asked, slinging her own pack over her shoulder.

“A city,” I said. “Or what’s left of one. We can move through it, maybe pick up supplies.” Her expression shifted, curiosity and unease battling for control. “And people?” “Probably,” I said. “If you’re lucky, they won’t notice you.” “And if I’m not lucky?” she pressed. I glanced at her, my grip tightening on the hilt of my blade. “Then I’ll make them fucking regret it.”

We stepped out into the forest, the cold morning air biting against our skin.

The silence was heavier now, the kind that came before a storm. As we moved toward the city on the horizon, I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for us there would change everything.