A guttural groan ripped through the armored belly of the Ash-Crawler. Metal shrieked. A bone-jarring impact slammed Rune against the reinforced wall, the air knocked from his lungs. Around him, the transport bucked, a desperate beast caught in a sudden, violent snare. “No! What was that?!” a voice shrieked, raw with panic. Others choked, coughing on the fine, ever-present ash that coated every surface, now stirred into a blinding cloud. He pushed himself upright, a phantom ache blooming in his side. A thin trail of blood traced a path from his temple, but his gaze was fixed on the viewport. The thick, plasteel window, usually a blur of grey-brown Ash-Wastes, now showed only churning black. The world outside pulsed with a dark, primal energy. “It’s dragging us down!” someone screamed, the sound muffled by the roar of grinding metal. “The Ash-Leviathan!” The name, whispered in fear across every subterranean haven, now echoed with horrifying clarity. The entire Ash-Crawler, a fortress of steel and Cinder-Tech, was being pulled under the suffocating tide of volcanic ash. It tilted precariously, a tomb descending into a deeper grave. People clawed at each other, desperate for purchase, their faces a mask of primal terror. There were no restraints in these emergency transports, just cold metal and grim resignation. They tumbled, pinballing off walls, their cries swallowed by the leviathan’s monstrous pull. “Damn it! Is no one Cinder-Touched?!” A burly miner, his face streaked with soot and blood, bellowed. He pointed a trembling hand towards the viewport, where the opaque ash now pressed against the glass. He didn’t wait for an answer. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and a faint, sickly grey light pulsed around his fist. He thrust his hand forward, a surge of concentrated ash, dense and sharp, lashing out. *Poof!* The ash-blade, barely more than a puff of dust, dissipated against the sheer, unyielding mass outside. It was a futile gesture, a whisper against a storm. Rune’s eyes, usually a calm, unsettling grey, narrowed. He recognized the meager power. A minor Cinder-Touched, barely E-rank by the Haven’s classifications. Stronger than an ordinary human, perhaps, but a mere spark against the Ash-Leviathan. Despair, thick and cold, settled over the passengers. The miner, his face contorted in a mix of fury and terror, continued to lash out, each effort weaker than the last. He depleted what little energy he had, his ash-blades vanishing into the abyss. Suddenly, a section of the reinforced wall, where the miner stood, buckled inward. A colossal, scaled tongue, rough as ancient lava flow, burst through. It coiled around the screaming man, yanking him out of the crawler with a sickening *shlurp*. His scream was abruptly cut short. The leviathan had claimed its first meal. “We’re next!” a woman sobbed, huddling against her child. Ash poured in through the gaping maw where the miner had been. It hissed like a hungry tide, quickly rising. Soon, it was waist-deep, then chest-deep. People struggled, flailing, their movements growing sluggish. The oppressive dust, thick and choking, filled their lungs. “No!” Rune snarled, a rare, uncharacteristic flash of fury in his eyes. He wouldn’t die here, not like this. Not consumed by the very element he was bound to. The ash was at his shoulders, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He tore a strip of fabric from his sleeve, wrapping it tightly around his mouth and nose, a futile but instinctual defense against the toxic onslaught. With a deep, shuddering breath, he hurled himself into the seething current. Pressure. Crushing, unimaginable pressure. The ash, usually responsive to his will, now felt like solid rock. Every muscle screamed as it bore down, threatening to flatten him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned, his vision swam. *Creak!* A final, agonizing shriek of tortured metal echoed from above. The Ash-Crawler, his last connection to the world, ripped apart. He knew, without seeing, that no one else had survived. Then, a tremor. Something vast was moving beneath him, through the very ash that held him captive. The leviathan. It was coming for him. *I can’t die,* he thought, his mind a frantic, desperate scramble. *Not yet. I haven’t…* Bang! An explosion ripped through his consciousness, not of sound, but of pure, raw sensation. It was as if a hidden dam within him had shattered. The ash, a moment ago a crushing weight, now yielded. It shifted, flowing around him like warm amniotic fluid. The pressure eased. He could breathe. Not air, but *ash*—it filled his lungs, sustaining him in a way he couldn't comprehend. He waved a hand, an instinct, a sudden, absolute command. The ash parted. His body surged forward, sleek as a fish in water. He moved, not swimming, but simply *willing* the ash to carry him. *WHOOSH!* A cavernous maw, lined with teeth like obsidian daggers, erupted where he had been moments before. The Leviathan’s breath was a hot, sulfurous gale. The teeth spun, stained crimson. The beast had nearly claimed him. Cold dread settled in his gut. His newfound command, this sudden clarity, had saved him, but he was still a mouse in a predator’s den. He couldn’t outrun the Leviathan forever, not in its own domain. The F-rank’s fate was a stark reminder of his own vulnerability. *Escape. Get to the surface.* He pushed, urging the ash to propel him upward. A violent tremor erupted behind him. The Leviathan was on his tail, its pursuit relentless, faster than his desperate climb. The gaping maw felt inches away. *What else? What else can I do?* His mind raced, a torrent of desperate thoughts. He pictured the leviathan’s vast, open mouth, the teeth, the emptiness. A sudden, savage impulse flared within him: *fill it. Choke it.* The ash around him stirred. It pulsed, coalescing into a single, dense point before his outstretched hand. It grew impossibly heavy, shimmering with dark, compressed energy. *Ash Lance.* The name, unbidden, surfaced in his mind, clear and absolute. *FWOOSH!* The concentrated projectile shot backwards, a black spear piercing the churning ash. It struck the leviathan’s open gullet with terrifying force. A muted, squelching impact vibrated through the ash around him. The beast’s pursuit faltered. It thrashed, a titanic convulsion that sent shockwaves through the very ground. He seized the opportunity, channeling every ounce of his new power into accelerating his ascent. The ash rushed past, a blur of grey and black. He burst through the surface, gasping, sucking in the cool, toxic air of the Ash-Wastes. “Puh-ha!” The taste of ash, metal, and life filled his lungs. He was alive. --- “A survivor! Over here!” A voice, sharp and urgent, cut through the desolate silence. He turned, his eyes adjusting to the dim, perpetual twilight of the Ash-Wastes. A heavily armored transport, its massive treads churning the loose ash, rumbled towards him. It was a patrol vehicle, bristling with sensors and weaponry. From its open hatches, figures emerged, their forms etched against the perpetual grey sky. Ashbound. Their power radiated, a palpable aura of focused energy. They moved with a chilling confidence, unfazed by the very creature that had just swallowed his transport whole. *WHOOSH!* The Ash-Leviathan, drawn by the commotion, breached the surface. Its colossal head, the size of a small building, broke the ash, roaring its defiance. It was a terrifying sight, yet the Ashbound didn’t flinch. “Hold it!” A man, broad-shouldered and clad in dark, scarred armor, barked. His voice was laced with authority. Commander Valerius. Rune had seen him in propaganda images from the Haven’s High Council. A woman with hair like spun frost stepped forward, extending a hand. The air shimmered. A frigid blast erupted, coating the leviathan’s thrashing body in an instant layer of black ice. The beast shuddered, its movements momentarily halted, frozen to the ash-strewn ground. “Only for a few breaths,” she called out, her voice a sweet, dangerous melody. “It’s too massive.” “That’s all we need, Lyra,” Valerius replied, a cold smile touching his lips. He drew a massive, two-handed ash-claymore. It glowed faintly, a beacon of dark power. He charged, a blur of motion, his subordinates fanning out behind him. *CRUSH!* The claymore descended, cleaving through the leviathan’s thick, scaly hide like paper. Black, viscous ichor erupted. The beast shrieked, a sound that tore at the very fabric of the Ash-Wastes. Another warrior, a man named Kael, pressed his palm against the exposed flesh. A low hum emanated from him, growing into an imperceptible vibration that rippled through the leviathan’s body. Its flesh began to tear, to explode from within, as if its very cells were being ripped apart. *BOOM!* A geyser of gore erupted. The beast bucked, its struggles weakening. The final blow came from a hulking figure, Borin, easily two heads taller than any man. He leaped, a dark titan against the bruised sky, and slammed his fist, encased in a hardened gauntlet of ash, directly onto the leviathan’s head. *BANG!* The leviathan’s skull shattered, its vast body going limp, sinking back into the ash. Borin laughed, a booming sound of raw, unadulterated triumph, coated in the beast’s ichor. Rune stared, jaw slack. The monster that had inspired such terror, that had devoured his companions, was reduced to a carcass in mere moments. These were the true Ashbound, the protectors, the destroyers. Valerius sheathed his claymore, the dark glow fading. His eyes, cold and calculating, met Rune’s across the ash-scarred plain. A shiver, not of fear, but of an unsettling recognition, traced its way down Rune’s spine. Valerius saw something in him, something he had kept hidden for so long.

A Cinder's Fury