Rhosyn’s will faltered. His reserves of ash-affinity, usually a boundless wellspring, had dwindled to a trickle. Particles that once obeyed his slightest mental whisper now drifted aimlessly. The very ash beneath his worn boots no longer responded to his command, sluggish and unresponsive. Never had Rhosyn pushed himself so brutally, so utterly to the brink. His vision swam with grey dust, his body ached with a deep, crushing fatigue that settled into his very bones. Kael, a silhouette against the perpetual grey, continued his tireless march. Not once had he paused, not once glanced back at Rhosyn’s faltering pace. Weakness was a luxury Rhosyn refused to show, but now, his body simply refused to move. Teeth clenched against the dust-choked air, he tried to push on, but the fight had left his limbs. Legs buckled without warning. A soft landing awaited him in the deep, fine ash, a cold embrace of the desolate land. Sinking into the grey powder, a distant rumble of footsteps reached him. Slowly, with an effort that felt monumental, Rhosyn lifted his head. Kael’s gaze, sharp as obsidian, fixed upon him. No pity softened the harsh lines of his face. ‘Your uselessness wastes my precious time.’ Kael’s voice was a low rasp, cutting through the silence of the Cinder Waste. Dropping to the ash beside Rhosyn, Kael produced two pieces of sun-cured jerky from a pouch at his hip. One disappeared into Kael’s mouth, chewed with slow, deliberate movements. Another skittered across the ash, stopping inches from Rhosyn’s face. Rise and eat, the gesture commanded, but Rhosyn couldn’t even lift a hand. Strength, however, was a distant memory. Lips cracked, tongue sandpaper-dry, he hadn't tasted moisture for what felt like an eternity. Chewing dry jerky in this state promised agony. Without recuperation, the Cinder Waste claimed lives swiftly. Kael understood this. No kindness bloomed in his eyes. Masticating his own jerky with slow deliberation, Kael’s voice rasped, low and sharp. ‘Old world tales whisper of easy days. A time when weakness meant little, when common sense and kindness were not folly.’ ‘But the world has changed.’ Kael’s words echoed the constant lament of the Scarred Dominion. ‘It has become a crucible. The weak are prey, and only the relentless claim what remains. Pain? Exhaustion? Give up. Death offers a simpler path.’ Rhosyn’s teeth ground together. Few words he’d ever heard carried such a cutting edge. A cold, unseen blade seemed to pierce his chest, twisting in the raw wound of his despair. ‘Crawl and die, if ease is your desire.’ Kael’s gaze bore into him, devoid of warmth. ‘But if you crave life, even through searing pain, rise. Rise, you fool.’ Silence descended once more. Kael continued his measured chewing, ignoring Rhosyn completely. He too had endured the parching journey, conserving every drop of saliva. His movements were efficient, his survival instinct honed to a terrifying edge. Soon, the skeletal sun began its descent, painting the ash-dusted horizon in bruised purples and dying oranges. Night in the Cinder Waste brought a brutal cold that seeped into the very ground. Hypothermia could steal life faster than any beast. Rhosyn knew this chilling truth. ‘Not here. Not now.’ A desperate resolve sparked within him, a flicker against the encroaching darkness. He began to crawl. Like a wounded thing, he dragged himself through the fine ash, each inch an immense victory. Inches became feet. Finally, fingers brushed the tough, dried meat. Mouth opened, he scooped the jerky from the ash, grit and all. Slowly, painstakingly, he chewed. Each motion scraped against his dry tongue, a tiny torment. After an eternity, the morsel slid down. A faint tremor of strength returned, a spark of warmth in his hollow core. Ash-stained, Rhosyn pushed himself upright. Another piece of jerky arced through the air, tossed by Kael. Rhosyn caught it. Wordlessly, he began to chew the second piece, more grit scraping his teeth. Little by little, life seeped back into his limbs. A soft hum, the whisper of ash-affinity, began to stir deep within. Kael, as if sensing the subtle shift, spoke. ‘Body and ash-affinity are a single breath. Only when the body is strong can affinity flow freely. To become strong, you must never cease honing your form.’ Rhosyn nodded, a silent acknowledgment. Earlier, prostrate in the ash, he had tried to coax his affinity. It had refused, a faint, distant whisper, trapped within his exhausted frame. Only now, with physical strength returning, did it flow freely, a quiet current within him. A sigh escaped his lips, barely audible against the growing silence. Survival felt less like a dream, more like a possibility. Having stared at death’s grey face, the world seemed to shift, revealing a stark beauty he often overlooked. Above, the ash-clouds parted, revealing slivers of a star-dusted night. Countless points of light glittered, cold and distant. Back in the ruins, beneath the ceaseless ashfall, such sights were rare. He hadn’t realized the sky held such beauty, a stark reminder of the vast, indifferent cosmos. Kael’s voice cut through the quiet contemplation. ‘A good spot, Cinder-Spine.’ He spoke softly, not to Rhosyn, but to his blade, planted upright in the ash before him. ‘We missed a few of the old burrow-queens there, beyond the Broken Peaks.’ A flicker of unease rippled through Rhosyn. Was Kael speaking to a sentient weapon, or merely to himself? The thought unsettled him, adding another layer to the enigma that was his companion. Kael finished his one-sided conversation, then looked at Rhosyn. A shiver traced Rhosyn’s spine, not entirely from the biting cold. Awakened or not, the Cinder Waste night offered no mercy. Rhosyn spent the night hunched, teeth chattering, sleep a fleeting dream. In stark contrast, Kael slept deeply, a picture of untroubled repose. He looked infuriatingly comfortable. First light brought Kael stirring. He wrung his garments, collecting precious dew that had condensed on the fibres. Only then did Rhosyn understand Kael’s earlier action of spreading his cloak. Quickly, Rhosyn emulated him. His own clothes yielded only a paltry amount, barely enough to wet his tongue. ‘Knowledge is survival.’ A flicker of resentment, quickly quelled, sparked within Rhosyn. He had dismissed Kael’s actions as eccentricity yesterday. Now, they were lessons. Kael’s every movement, every subtle choice, was a lesson in the brutal art of existence. ‘I must learn everything.’ Each gesture, each whispered secret of survival, Rhosyn would absorb. He envisioned a future where he moved with Kael’s silent, brutal efficiency. He squeezed every drop of moisture from his ash-dusted clothes, drinking it slowly. His thirst, a persistent companion, finally eased. Kael rose, his movements fluid and silent. ‘Forward,’ he stated, his voice flat. Rhosyn merely nodded. Asking for their destination would be pointless. Kael offered no explanations, no indulgences. Though only a single, brutal day had passed, Rhosyn had gleaned Kael’s nature: self-centered, unforgiving. Kael would not offer aid, would not consider others. He expected Rhosyn to survive by his own will, his own burgeoning power. Survival, then, demanded keen observation. Kael was already a distant shadow, moving with deceptive speed. Thankfully, Rhosyn’s ash-affinity had returned during the night, a quiet hum beneath his skin. He unleashed the subtle control he had discovered yesterday, a new skill he called ‘Ash Glide.’ Footfalls whispered across the dust, barely disturbing the surface as he propelled himself forward, an echo of Kael’s effortless pace. Managing his ash-affinity remained paramount. Yesterday’s brush with oblivion had etched that lesson deep into his core. ‘If only there were a way to replenish affinity as swiftly as it’s spent.’ Kael might know, but asking was futile. The answer, Rhosyn knew, lay in his own exploration, his own intuition. As Rhosyn glided through the Cinder Waste, he pondered refinements for Ash Glide. The sun, though still climbing, baked the ash plains, radiating intense heat from the ground and the blazing sky. Nevertheless, Rhosyn gritted his teeth, enduring the relentless assault. Endurance forged patience. With patience, Ash Glide became smoother, more instinctual, less a conscious effort and more a part of his being. The day passed in a haze of motion and heat. Only when the sun began its languid descent did Kael stop. Rhosyn, though not depleted of affinity, felt the profound exhaustion settle deep into his muscles. Ash Glide, maintained for hours, had taxed his body and mind to their limits. He felt poised on the edge of collapse, but Rhosyn forced himself to remain upright. Just then, Kael tossed him a piece of jerky. This time, he caught it easily. No desperate scramble in the dust. Rhosyn held the jerky, tearing it into small, manageable pieces. Chewing slowly, he thoroughly moistened each fragment before swallowing. He had no choice but to lengthen the eating process, drawing out every bit of sustenance. Halfway through, Rhosyn glanced at Kael. He thought his own pace was agonizingly slow, yet Kael had consumed barely a third of his piece. A strange sense of defeat washed over Rhosyn, and he bit his lip. He deliberately slowed his chewing, trying to outlast Kael. Almost thirty minutes passed before his single piece was gone. ‘Still hungry, though.’ Rhosyn, still growing, still needing strength, felt barely satisfied. He knew the hunger would return, gnawing at him before sleep could claim him. But he wouldn’t ask for more. His pride, stoic and unyielding, forbade it. He resolved to sleep on his hungry stomach. But first, there was a task. Rhosyn removed his worn cloak and spread it carefully on the ash, preparing to capture the morning dew. Next, he needed a resting place. The biting cold of the Cinder Waste was no threat to Kael, whose abilities were beyond Rhosyn’s current comprehension. But for Rhosyn, it was a matter of survival. His solution: a bunker. Fortunately, some ash-affinity remained, a deep, steady hum. As Rhosyn exerted control, the ash shifted. A pit, large enough for one person, formed silently in the ground. Rhosyn slid into the excavation. Then, using his affinity, he drew the ash back over, forming a roof. Desert sand usually lacked cohesion, collapsing instantly. But this ash, manipulated by Rhosyn’s will, held firm. He had imbued it with a temporary ash-cohesion, making it solid. Affinity was consumed during creation, but once the bunker stood, no more was needed. Completed, Rhosyn breathed a sigh of relief. Last night’s restless shivering was a stark memory. Tonight, he would rest. He briefly wondered about Kael, then shook his head. If Kael couldn’t bear the cold, he would surely build his own shelter. The thought brought a strange, grim satisfaction. Rhosyn closed his eyes, drifting into a deeper sleep than he’d known in days. A faint vibration through the ash roused Rhosyn. He pressed a hand to the ground within his bunker. The tremor grew stronger, a low thrumming that resonated in his chest. Rhosyn emerged, pushing aside the ash-roof. Kael was already standing, Cinder-Spine planted upright before him. His gaze was fixed on the dense darkness before them. It was the darkest hour, just before the first faint whisper of dawn. It was impossible to discern anything, yet Kael saw. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! The vibrations intensified, a chorus of heavy impacts. Rhosyn’s pupils trembled, straining against the gloom. ‘Dozens, no, at least hundreds.’ ‘Survive on your own, you idiot!’ Kael’s voice was laced with a chilling amusement. A crazed grin stretched across his face, a feral joy. He looked like a child anticipating a fireworks display. Rhosyn couldn’t smile. Kael wouldn’t help. The truth hit him with a cold certainty, fueling a raw frustration. ‘Alright! I will definitely survive.’ The vibrations peaked. Finally, through the impenetrable darkness, they revealed themselves. Hundreds of pairs of eyes, glowing like embers, rapidly approached Kael and Rhosyn. The low growls, the heavy thuds, grew into a deafening roar. ‘It’s a pack of Cinder-Hounds.’

Dust and Resolve