The grinding howl of tormented metal ripped through the armored Ash-runner. Kael, braced against the bulkhead, lurched violently. A sickening lurch pitched him sideways. He slammed into a storage locker, the impact jarring his teeth.
A chorus of panicked shouts erupted. Bodies, unbelted, tumbled across the cold deck plating. A grizzled merchant, his face already etched with the Cinder Wastes’ harshness, cried out. A young traveler, huddled near Kael moments before, was flung against a reinforced viewport.
Groans filled the close confines. Dust motes, disturbed by the chaos, danced in the dim emergency lighting. Kael pushed himself up, his own ribs aching. Blood, a dark bloom, spread on the forehead of the merchant near him.
Outside the viewport, a nightmare unfolded. The vast, undulating plains of grey ash seemed to swallow the reinforced vehicle. Heavy plating, meant to withstand the abrasive winds, groaned like a dying beast.
“It’s dragging us down!” someone shrieked.
“The Ash-maw! It’s the Leviathan!” another wailed, his voice raw with terror.
Deep tremors pulsed through the Ash-runner’s frame. Outside, the ash swirled in an unnatural vortex. Enormous plates of composite steel, each thicker than a man’s forearm, peeled back like withered bark. The bus groaned, its immense bulk now merely a toy in an invisible hand.
Panic surged through the cabin. People scrambled, desperate, though no escape presented itself. The Ash-runner was sinking, consumed by the grey current.
“An Awakened One! Is there no one amongst us?” a voice, hoarse with desperation, tore through the clamor.
From the rear, a man named Garl, a prospector Kael had quietly observed, stepped forward. His face was a mask of grim resolve. Garl’s hand, calloused from countless excavations, extended towards the viewport.
A pale shimmer, like heat haze off obsidian, radiated from his palm. Then, a low, resonant hum built in the air. A concentrated pulse of sonic energy, visible as a trembling distortion, lanced outwards.
Kael’s eyes narrowed. An F-rank. His ability, a minor sonic shockwave, was barely enough to shatter a hardened dust-shard, let alone a creature that devoured steel.
The energy pulse struck the churning ash outside. It dissipated without a whisper. No tremor, no ripple, nothing to indicate the attack had even registered. The Ash-maw remained unfazed.
Garl’s shoulders slumped. His face, moments ago resolute, now sagged with despair. “It’s useless,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s too deep, too… solid.”
Hope, a fragile thing, shattered in the cabin. Whispers of doom replaced the shouts. The Ash-runner continued its agonizing descent. More plating ripped away, the sound of tearing metal a death knell.
With a sudden, violent crack, the armored shell directly above Garl buckled. A colossal, chitinous tongue, grey as compacted ash and studded with razor-sharp spicules, lashed out. It coiled around Garl’s torso, swift as a viper. Garl screamed, a choked, dying sound, as he was yanked through the ruptured ceiling. He vanished into the churning grey.
More screams followed. The Ash-maw was inside. Fine dust, no longer held at bay, poured into the cabin like a liquid flood. It settled quickly, thick and choking, already reaching above the seats.
Kael bit down on his lip until he tasted copper. He could not afford to feel the pain. The dust rose. It swirled around his waist, then his chest. He saw others flailing, suffocating, their forms slowly erased by the rising tide of ash.
His mind, usually a quiet storm of calculation, froze. To drown in dust, or to be consumed by the beast? Neither was a fitting end.
Then, a thunderous rending sound. The Ash-runner split down its spine. A gaping maw, impossibly vast, swallowed the entire rear section. More passengers vanished. Their final cries were muted by the roaring dust.
Kael swore under his breath. The dust reached his shoulders. He could barely discern the forms of those around him, only the faint, struggling motions. His decision was swift, born of instinct and desperation.
This was not how he would end.
He tore strips from his long cloak. Quickly, expertly, he bound his mouth and nose, then his eyes, securing a crude dust-filter. A final, deep breath. Then, Kael launched himself into the suffocating grey.
Immense pressure bore down on him. The Cinder Wastes' ash, denser than water, pressed against every inch of his body. It was impossible to move, impossible to breathe. He could feel the fine particulates coating his lungs, burning.
He stopped struggling. Surrendered to the current. He let the ash take him, allowing his body to drift, an inert piece of debris. The faint, distant sound of metal collapsing reached him. The Ash-runner’s final shriek. He knew the fate of those still within its walls.
Then, the ash surged. Something enormous, powerful, was moving through the subterranean currents. It was coming for him. He felt the ripple of its passage.
*It’s coming.* His heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drum against the silence of death. He was going to die. This was it. He would be just another meal in the Ash-maw’s endless hunger.
*No.* A cold, defiant spark ignited within him. *Not yet. I cannot die. Not before Malachi.*
His blood roared. A thrumming vibration, deep within his bones, shook him. Something *snapped* inside his mind. Not a painful break, but a release. A dam crumbling.
Seven faint lines, like scars or ancient markings, flared on his wrist, glowing with an inner luminescence he couldn't see through his bindings, but instinctively knew was there. An Awakening. It had found him, here, in the cold maw of death.
The crushing pressure eased. The suffocating weight of the ash lessened. It still enveloped him, but now it felt different. Not an enemy, but an extension. Like a second skin. He could breathe. Not air, but the ash itself seemed to sustain him.
His ability. It was the ash. It *was* him. Kael extended a hand, and without conscious thought, his body moved. He propelled himself forward, gliding through the dense particulate matter like a fish through water.
A cavernous void appeared where he had been moments before. The Ash-maw’s maw. Its teeth, like great grinding gears, spun, stained crimson with the recent feast. He had been a fraction of a second from oblivion.
*Insane.* Chills ran down his spine. His newfound power had saved him, but he was still trapped, still hunted. The F-rank’s failure was proof; even Awakened Ones fell to these behemoths.
Escape. That was the immediate goal. He needed air, the surface. Kael pushed, urging the ash to part, to propel him upwards. He carved a path, rising quickly.
But a tremor built behind him. The Ash-maw pursued. Its speed was horrifying. He could feel its approach, swift and relentless.
*Damn it, is this all? Only movement?* His thoughts were frantic. He needed more. He thought of the Ash-maw, of its gaping maw that had consumed so many. A visceral urge bloomed in him: to choke it, to blast its insides with its own element.
Suddenly, the ash around him twisted. It gathered, condensing with incredible speed before his outstretched hand. A spear of hardened, compressed ash, sharp and lethal, formed in the grey depths.
*Ash Lance.* The name was not spoken, but understood, an ingrained truth blooming in his mind.
Without hesitation, Kael thrust his hand forward. The Ash Lance shot from his palm, a high-pressure jet of solidified ash. It struck the approaching maw, not on its impenetrable exterior, but deep within its cavernous throat. The Ash Lance tore through the soft, inner membrane like paper.
A monstrous shriek reverberated through the ash. The Ash-maw thrashed, a titanic convulsion that sent shockwaves through the Cinder Wastes. The ground above must have been shaking like a leaf.
Kael seized the opportunity. He surged upwards, faster, driven by a new surge of power. He burst through the surface, gasping, inhaling the thin, ash-laden air of Aethel.
“Puh-ha!” The taste of fresh, if acrid, air was a miracle.
---
“Survivor! Look, a survivor!”
“Confirm! Everyone, weapons ready. It’s the Ash-maw.”
Voices. Kael raised his head, blinking against the perpetual gloom. A heavily armored land-skimmer, its multi-wheeled chassis designed for the Cinder Wastes, had stopped near him. It was thick with hardened plating, its engine a low growl.
Figures emerged. Not common travelers. They moved with an unsettling ease amidst the desolation. Their gear was sleek, their postures confident. Awakened Ones. And powerful ones at that.
Thane Kova, a man with eyes like polished obsidian and a long, bladed staff strapped to his back, stepped forward. Beside him, Lyra, a woman whose movements were as fluid as drifting ash, held her hands ready. Roric, a man whose arms seemed too thick for his frame, cracked his knuckles. And Borin, a giant of a man, stood patiently, a massive hammer resting on his shoulder.
Then, the ground behind Kael erupted. The Ash-maw Leviathan, enraged and wounded, breached the surface. Its segmented body, the size of a small war-fortress, churned the ash. Its maw, still oozing dark ichor from Kael’s strike, roared.
“Pin it!” Thane Kova commanded, his voice cold and clear. “Don’t let it dive.”
“Understood, Captain.” Lyra’s voice was melodic, yet held an edge of steel. She extended her hands. The air around the Ash-maw shimmered, growing unnaturally still. The ash, thick and yielding moments before, solidified around the creature’s base, binding it. It thrashed, but could not retreat into the earth.
“That’s enough.” Kova drew his bladed staff. It hummed with contained energy. He moved with impossible speed, a blur across the ash. The bladed staff descended, not in a crude strike, but a precise, arcing cut.
*Shkkk!* The Ash-maw’s armored hide, which had shrugged off the Ash-runner’s impact, peeled back like sun-baked parchment. A deep gouge opened, revealing pulsing grey flesh.
The Ash-maw roared in pain, its segmented body thrashing.
Roric moved next. He pressed a palm against the exposed flank of the leviathan. A low, internal thrumming vibrated through the creature. It wasn’t visible, but Kael felt the air itself tremble.
*Wuuuung!* The point of contact exploded. Not with fire, but with sheer, concussive force. A section of the Ash-maw's flesh burst outwards, a geyser of grey blood and vital organs. Roric, a pulse-striker, used concentrated kinetic energy to turn the creature’s own mass against itself.
Borin, the giant, laughed, a booming sound that echoed across the desolate plains. He sprang. With a single, earth-shaking leap, he launched himself into the air. His massive hammer, a relic of forgotten ages, slammed down onto the Ash-maw’s head.
*CRACK!* The leviathan’s skull, thicker than a reinforced vault, simply imploded. Grey matter, bone shards, and ichor exploded across the landscape.
Seconds. In a handful of breaths, the beast that had devoured an entire Ash-runner and its crew was reduced to a twitching, ruined hulk. Kael stared, his jaw slack.
*Crazy bastards.* Their power was beyond anything he had witnessed.
Thane Kova sheathed his staff. His cold, sunken eyes found Kael. A shiver, not of cold, but of primal unease, ran down Kael’s spine. Those eyes held a depth of calculation that made the Ash-maw seem like a simple brute.
He felt utterly exposed.