All Chapters of Bloodied Ashes: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Lira (POV)I dozed in fragments—half-thoughts and flickers of firelight playing behind my eyelids, breath held too long, then exhaled into nothing. The cold crept up through the moss into my spine, curling in my joints, but I didn’t move. I let it happen. I let it seep into the spaces that once held fire and tether and noise.Kael didn’t speak again.He didn’t need to. His presence pressed against the air like a blade sheathed but not forgotten.My body ached—not sharp, not panicked. Just… wrong. As if someone had stitched me back together with hands that didn’t quite know where each piece belonged. Like I was a body returned from flame, not quite sure what parts were still mine.The ache pulsed low in my belly. Dull. Slow.At first I ignored it, same as the sting at my ribs, the cracked scabs on my thighs, the phantom bruises along my arms. My body was always full of pain. This should’ve been no different.But it was.This one didn’t burn. It didn’t scream. It simply was—constant, pa

Lira (POV)The light of that moon flattened the forest into something unrecognizable. The trees didn’t sway—they stood like painted illusions. Their limbs stiff. Their shadows swallowed. Kael’s body across from me was carved from soot and outline, not flesh. Like he didn’t belong here. Like none of us did. Even the smoke that rose from the fire moved differently now—upward, yes, but slower. As if it feared being noticed.My body ached in all its usual places—ribs, thighs, wrists. But none of it felt real under that light. It felt like I’d been drawn, not born. And maybe I had.The spiral didn’t hum. Didn’t ache. But still, I wondered if it had really left me. Or if it had only changed shape. Lifted from my ribs to the stars. Hung itself in the sky above me, watching to see what I would do now that I could no longer blame it for my choices.Behind me, Kael didn’t stir. His breath stayed steady. But it felt like he was listening. Not to me. Not to the trees. To the st

Lira (POV)The forest was denser here. The air colder. Damp with old rain and bone-deep quiet. The roots underfoot felt too close to the surface, like the ground was holding its breath. Like it might split open at any moment and reveal something waiting underneath. I moved carefully between the trees, brushing ash from my sleeves as I passed. The air carried the scent of moss, smoke, and something faintly sour. Like decay. Like memory. The spiral was gone. I knew that. But still, I reached for it. I reached like I used to, expecting the low hum in my spine, the pressure in my gut, the throb of magic just behind my ribs. Nothing answered. Not a flicker. Not a pulse. Not even that strange warm nausea that had once marked its presence. It was like throwing a rope into a well with no bottom. Too much space. Too much breath in my lungs. Like I’d been stretched open from the inside and nothing had filled the gap. My wolf gave a soft growl in the dark of me. Not warning. Not challeng

Lira (POV)The Wilds dipped into a shallow ridge, its roots cracking underfoot like old, dry ribs. The scent was still there oil and leather, the memory of blood.It had changed since the Pit. Gone cold. Less iron, more rot. Like something that had once belonged to power, and now just lingered where it wasn’t wanted.Kael walked just behind me, neither speaking nor reaching. But I felt him, steady and hot like breath against the back of my neck.We moved downhill into low fog. The trees thinned. The path curled around a sloped bank thick with lichen.That’s when I saw it.A cart.On its side in the mud, one wheel cracked through the axle, its paint scabbed and peeled. A single leather strap trailed loose in the dirt where the beast must’ve panicked, or been cut free. Dried blood stained the metal yoke.And kneeling beside it, head down, was a woman.Thin cloak. Frayed hem. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders, matted from mist and sweat.She was struggling with the weight of a pack

Lira (POV)The fire had burned low in the night. Only a ring of ash remained, soft and gray against the moss. The fog had rolled in while we slept, thick enough to bead along my eyelashes and cling to the collar of my coat. I didn’t open my eyes right away. Something low inside me had already begun to shift.It wasn’t pain. Not sharp, not sudden. Just a slow pressure, buried deep beneath the ribs, tugging toward the hips. A kind of slow folding. Like my body had adjusted around something that wasn’t there yesterday.I moved my hand to rest just above my belly. The warmth of my own skin met me. It didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel foreign. But it was heavier than it had been the night before. Not in weight. In presence. There was no burn this time. No magic pressing at the edges of my bones. No spiral hum in the base of my skull. Just warmth. Just gravity.I kept my eyes closed and breathed in through my nose. The Wilds smelled of wet bark and charcoal and quiet things that didn’t want