Chapter 40: Ashes of the Faithful

Chapter 40: Ashes of the Faithful
Dawn came late over Nightrest.

The fires had died, but the smoke lingered — a bitter haze that clung to the air, to skin, to memory. The ground still steamed where dragon fire had scorched it, and the forest’s once-living canopy now hung in tatters, charred leaves drifting down like blackened snow.

Jessica stood amid the ruin, her armor streaked with soot and ash. Her blades hung loose at her sides, the metal dull with blood and heat. Around her, the wounded moved like ghosts — wolves and drakes alike tending to one another in silence too heavy for words.

Everywhere she looked, she saw the cost.

A young wolf lay with his head in his sister’s lap, eyes already glassy, his final breath spent calling for a pack that no longer answered. An Eldvar dragon in human form staggered under the weight of his fallen kin, carrying them toward the pyres that waited beyond the treeline.

The world had survived the serpent’s first assault, but victory tasted of iron and smoke.

Antonin found her standing near one of the broken watchtowers. His scales had faded back into skin, his eyes still sharp with battle-fire. “We’ve cleared most of the northern ridge,” he said quietly. “The enemy fled toward the border of the Wild Vale. Some took their wounded. Others… simply vanished.”

Jessica didn’t turn right away. “Vanished?”

“Swallowed by the ground,” he said. “As if the shadows themselves took them.”

She closed her eyes. “The serpent’s mark lingers. He’s learning to use the ley lines.”

Antonin’s jaw tightened. “Then we sever his connection before he roots deeper.”

Jessica finally faced him, her expression weary but resolute. “We will. But not today. Today we mourn.”

The funeral rites began at twilight.

The pyres were built in long rows, each one marked with the sigil of its fallen. Wolves and dragons, mages and scouts — all laid together under the watchful glow of the first stars.

Thorne stood at the head of the line, his massive hands clasped before him, his eyes reflecting the flames. When he spoke, his voice was raw, stripped of its usual command.

“Bravery alone does not win wars,” he said. “It is faith — in one another, in the Goddess, in the light within us — that holds the line. Tonight, we burn not for loss, but for remembrance. They fought because they believed we could still build something worth protecting.”

He lifted a torch, holding it aloft. “May their ashes find peace in the sky.”

The torches dropped together. The pyres caught.

A chorus rose — not words, but harmony, ancient and mournful. Jessica joined her voice to it, the SoulSong flowing from her chest in a river of gold. It wound through the crowd like a thread of healing, mending hearts even as tears fell freely. The air shimmered faintly, and for a heartbeat, the scent of smoke was replaced by lilies.

When the final note faded, the silence that followed was not emptiness, but reverence.

Then the first scream shattered it.

It came from the far edge of the clearing. Soldiers scattered as a healer fell to her knees, clutching her arm. Beneath her sleeve, something writhed. Jessica ran toward her, Antonin close behind.

“Hold her!” Antonin barked. Two wolves pinned the woman’s shoulders as she thrashed.

Jessica tore the fabric away — and froze.

The serpent’s mark blazed against the woman’s skin, not tattooed, but growing, spreading like a living brand. The veins beneath it pulsed with black fire.

The woman’s eyes rolled back. “He’s here,” she rasped. “He’s in me—”

The rest was lost in a choked scream. The mark flared, and the woman’s body convulsed once — then stilled.

When Jessica pulled back, the mark had burned itself out, leaving nothing but charred flesh and smoke.

Around her, fear spread like sparks on dry grass.

“Was she… one of ours?” someone whispered.

Jessica nodded grimly. “A healer from Valir’s third battalion.”

Antonin looked to her, understanding dawning. “He marked them before the battle. The faithful were never his soldiers. They were his vessels.”

Brielle approached, her expression grim. “We’ve found three more showing the same signs. All from different Clans. It’s spreading through the ranks.”

Jessica pressed a trembling hand to her temple, the hum of the SoulSong inside her chest twisting in warning. “He’s planting seeds in the faithful. Using their devotion as a door.”

Brielle’s gaze turned toward the burning pyres. “Then even our dead might not be safe.”

Later that night, after the bodies were burned and the air had cooled to stillness, Jessica met with Thorne and Brielle in the shadow of the fallen watchtower. The faint glow of the Goddess’s wardstones flickered beneath their feet — their light dimmer than usual.

“He’s infecting the ley lines,” Brielle said, voice hushed. “His magic rides emotion. The more fear and grief he stirs, the stronger his reach becomes.”

Thorne folded his arms, his tone iron. “Then we cut him off. Every tainted thread, every burned root.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jessica said quietly. “He’s binding himself to the parts of us that hurt. If we sever carelessly, we could destroy what connects us to the Goddess as well.”

Brielle met her gaze. “Then you must use your song again.”

Jessica hesitated. “The last time I did, it nearly tore the veil open.”

“Then we reinforce the veil first,” Brielle said. “The Fae will help. Titania owes you that much after what her courts allowed to happen.”

Thorne grunted. “You’ll have my warriors. But this will take time. He’s moving faster than we can plan.”

Jessica’s eyes drifted to the horizon. The fires of Nightrest had faded to embers, but in the distance, she could still see faint flashes of red. “We’ll find a way,” she said softly. “We have to. If we don’t… Apollo won’t need to destroy us. We’ll destroy ourselves.”

Antonin appeared from the shadows then, his presence a steady anchor amid the storm. “Then rest, my heart. The sun will rise soon.”

Jessica managed a tired smile. “If it does, let it rise over a world still ours.”

As the others dispersed, she lingered at the edge of the pyres. The ashes glowed faintly, carried upward by the wind. For a moment, she thought she saw faces in the embers — the fallen smiling, whispering their gratitude. But behind them, something darker flickered. A coil of shadow, faint but watching.

Jessica closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, her voice steady despite the ache in her heart.

“Goddess, keep their souls close. Don’t let him take them. Not again.”

When she opened her eyes, the shadow was gone. Only the ashes remained — gray, drifting, soft as snow.

And though the night had ended, the air still smelled faintly of smoke and sorrow.