The day after Lily arrived, everything changed. Not in grand, sweeping strokes, but in subtle shifts. Like cracks in stone that widened slowly over time.
Ash rose with the others when the bell rang. His body ached, as always, but there was a strange steadiness to him. Not strength—no, not yet—but purpose. He glanced once at Lily as the guards barked orders, and she offered a small, brave smile.
He hadn't known how much he needed that. Her smile wasn't just a comfort—it was a promise that the world hadn't fully crushed them yet. Lily's face, despite the bruises and exhaustion, still held a quiet beauty. Her eyes were a vivid green, wide and bright like spring leaves after rain. Her hair was a cascade of pale gold, tangled but soft, catching the light like candle fire. Her features were delicate, a stark contrast to the grime around them—cheekbones fine, lips curved with a gentle strength. Even in rags, even hollow-eyed from hunger, she carried herself with a dignity no chains could erase. Seeing her smile, after everything, reminded him of who he was. Of who he still could be.
Today, he was sent to the coal pits. Back-breaking labor. Digging black rock from the mines beneath the estate. Before he descended into the tunnels, Ash caught a glimpse of himself in a puddle, distorted but telling. His skin, once pale, was now permanently stained with coal dust and bruises. His arms, though thin, had begun to harden with lean muscle from endless labor. Faint scars lined his shoulders and ribs. His face was sharp and angular, cheekbones more defined from hunger, jaw clenched in quiet defiance. His eyes—once soft brown—had darkened to something fiercer, almost bronze in the dim light. His hair, jet-black and matted with ash, fell in uneven tufts around his forehead. He barely recognized himself. Yet something behind those eyes stared back with growing fire.
Then he entered the mine, the echo of his own hardened reflection still flickering in his mind. The air was worse down there—thick with soot and sulfur. The heat clung to the skin and sank into the bones. It was a graveyard of coughing slaves and shattered backs.
Ash worked in silence, shoveling coal into rusted carts. The air stung his eyes, and his hands were blistered within the hour. But he did not falter. Each swing of the shovel echoed like a heartbeat. He imagined the heat of the pit was fire—his fire. A future kindling inside him.
At midday, a collapse further down the shaft brought everything to a halt. Screams echoed in the tunnels. Slaves were crushed beneath fallen beams. Ash saw blood on the rocks. He saw a boy his age crushed from the waist down, sobbing for his mother. No one helped. The guards ordered the tunnel sealed. The boy's screams faded as stone and dirt buried him alive.
Ash's grip on the shovel tightened. His knuckles turned white.
That night, when he returned to the shed, Lily was waiting. She had been assigned to the kitchen, peeling potatoes until her hands bled. She looked tired, but her eyes still shone. In the dim light, she whispered, "Did you dream again?"
Ash hesitated, then nodded.
Lily smiled faintly. "Good. Keep dreaming. That's how we survive."
She told him about a book she had read once—about phoenixes. Birds that burned and rose again. "Maybe you're like that," she said. "Maybe we both are."
Ash didn't know what a phoenix was, but he liked the way she said it. Like she believed it. Like it was true.
Days passed. Then weeks.
Ash began to notice things.
The guards rotated in shifts, but one—Captain Halrek—was crueler than the rest. He favored the whip, even for the smallest mistakes. Ash saw him strike a girl for dropping a tray, then force her to lick the floor clean. No one stopped him. No one dared.
Ash watched. And remembered.
He learned the sound of the keys. The order of the locks. Where the dogs were kept, and which guards were slow to respond. He didn't know why he was memorizing it all—only that it felt right. Like coals gathering in his chest.
Then came the night everything cracked.
Rain poured in sheets, drumming against the shed roof. Thunder rolled like war drums. Lily sat close to him in the dark, both of them shivering.
She whispered, "I heard they're selling me."
Ash looked at her sharply.
"Tomorrow," she said. "To a noble from the inner city. He asked for a girl with spirit."
Ash's jaw clenched. Something twisted inside him.
Lily gave a small laugh, bitter and hollow. "I think I'd rather be dead."
Ash didn't speak. He couldn't. But his silence said enough.
Lily reached out and touched his hand. Her fingers were cold. "If they take me... promise you won't forget me."
He shook his head.
She smiled. "Then I'll stay alive in your fire."
That night, Ash didn't sleep.
He stared at the ceiling and thought of burning things. The forge. The kennel. The coal pit. The field of red flowers. His dreams returned—visions of fire and chains and the dark figure with eyes of flame.
The next morning, when the guards came, Ash stood in front of Lily.
Halrek grinned. "Out of the way, rat."
Ash didn't move.
The guard raised his whip.
And Ash struck first.
He didn't think. He just moved. He grabbed a loose board from the wall and swung it with everything he had. The whip cracked—but missed. The board shattered across Halrek's arm. The guard screamed, staggering back.
The shed exploded into chaos.
Ash grabbed Lily's hand. "Run," he rasped. His voice cracked through the rune like a blade through silk.
They fled into the rain.
Alarms blared. Dogs howled. Guards shouted.
Ash and Lily ran through the outer yard, past the forges and the hound pens. Behind them, the world erupted. Torches lit the sky. Metal clanged. The storm churned.
They didn't make it far.
Ash slipped in the mud, dragging Lily down with him. Before they could rise, Halrek's boot slammed into Ash's side. The boy cried out, the pain white-hot.
Lily screamed.
Halrek grabbed her by the hair. "Thought you'd run, little bitch?"
Ash rose, staggering.
Halrek backhanded Lily. Blood bloomed across her cheek. She crumpled.
Ash screamed.
The rune on his neck flared.
Fire erupted.
Not around him. From him.
A burst of heat exploded from his chest, hurling Halrek backward. The man's cloak caught fire. He howled, rolling in the mud. Guards froze. Dogs whimpered.
Ash stood over Lily, eyes blazing, body steaming. The collar around his neck cracked. Once. Twice.
Then it shattered.
The silence rune broke.
Ash took a breath—and roared.
Not just in pain. Not just in rage.
In defiance.
The fire spread, leaping from torch to torch, catching on the dry timber of the hound pens. Flames licked the sky. Screams filled the air.
Guards swarmed. Ash stood his ground.
He didn't feel fear.
He felt alive.
A spear pierced his side.
He fell.
Lily screamed his name.
Ash smiled, even as darkness closed in.
He had a name now.
And the world would remember it.
Even if he had to burn it into their bones.