Darkness.
Then—pain.
Blinding, searing, all-consuming pain.
Ash awoke with a gasp, his body convulsing as air flooded back into his lungs. The world spun. His side burned where the spear had pierced him, a fire worse than any he had known. Every breath was agony. His vision blurred, swimming in blood and smoke.
He was alive.
But barely.
Above him, the sky was black and red, smeared with clouds and ash. The fire he had unleashed still raged in the distance. Screams echoed faintly, drowned by the crackling of burning wood and the barking of dogs.
He turned his head.
Lily—her hands trembling—pressed clay poultices and torn cloth against his wound. Her emerald eyes, streaked with soot and tears, held his gaze.
"Stay with me, Ash," she whispered, voice cracking. "Remember why you fight."
A ragged memory surfaced: a boy's laughter in a field of scarlet blooms, the gentle touch of a mother's hand. Pain knotted in his chest—not just from the spear, but from everything he had lost. In that moment, he saw the world beyond the estate gates more clearly than ever.
He tried to speak. Only a hoarse croak answered.
She leaned closer. "Close your eyes. Dream of the stars we'll see."
Ash closed his eyes. He smelled smoke and sweat, tasted iron on his tongue. In his mind's eye, he saw something different: the night sky of his earliest memory—cool, vast, unbroken by stone walls. He felt the echo of a lullaby, faint but comforting.
Then a shout: "Move them out!"
Two guards dragged Lily away by the arms, leaving Ash writhing on the cold ground. He felt her pain as keenly as his own.
They left him for dead.
When the moon slipped behind a cloud, Ash forced himself up. Blood trickled down his side, sticky and warm. Each step swam with stars.
He crawled toward the estate's perimeter fence—a crude wood-and-iron barrier. It was poorly guarded tonight; the fire had pulled most soldiers toward the keep. Ash paused at a narrow gap. Beyond lay the fields, and beyond them, freedom.
He pressed his back to the fence and listened.
A patrol's muffled boots approached. He flattened himself in the shadow. A tall figure paused, whip in hand—Captain Halrek, his face masked by soot and fury. The captain spat on the ground.
"I'll find you, rat," Halrek snarled into the darkness. "When you bleed, I'll be there to watch."
Ash's heart thundered. Pain pulsed where the spear had struck, but rage flared brighter. He slipped through the gap and stumbled into the night.
Outside the fence, the world was silent. He tasted dew on the grass and breathed in cold air. Each step was agony, but every drop of pain reminded him he was alive.
He crawled to a nearby coppice of ash trees, their branches charred but still standing. There, he collapsed, unconscious.
Dawn broke.
Sunlight slanted through blackened branches. Birds called—an unfamiliar song of freedom. Ash opened his eyes. A thin arm lay across his chest.
Lily.
She lay beside him on the damp earth, her golden hair fanned like fire against the ash. She looked battered—bruised cheeks, torn sleeves—but alive.
He reached for her hand.
She squeezed it weakly. "They sold me to a buyer at dawn," she rasped. "I managed to slip free during the chaos. I followed the flames… found you."
Ash inhaled sharply. She had risked everything.
She coughed, then met his gaze. "We'll need allies," she said, voice small but steady. "The other slaves speak of an old prisoner—an historian who remembers the empire's collapse. He hides beyond the eastern orchards."
Ash felt the spark of a plan.
"First, we heal," he whispered.
"Then," Lily said, "we light the embers of rebellion."
Ash nodded, pain and purpose entwined in every breath. Around them, the world stirred. And for the first time, they rose together, two sparks destined to ignite a fire that would consume the chains of their oppressors.
(Word count: ~750 – continuing next...)