Forging ash of the beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: Feb 5th, 2026
Approx. Length: 3.6k words
Punching Each Other Until Someone Admits Attraction
DAY ONE
Austra- First Day
The GPR training atriums were hewn straight into volcanic stone, magma flowing slow and bright along their edges. The spaces were wide and torchlit, echoing with the rhythmic clang of other squads sparring. The walls were veined with glowing cracks like molten lightning. Heat from the vents mingled with sweat and iron, turning the air thick and breathless, making Austra aware of every heartbeat.
Heat shimmered in waves. Metal rang. The air tasted like smoke and challenge. Austra loved it immediately. A perfect arena for a performance.
She had expected the Greater Pyronous Rebellion’s trials to be dangerous. She had told herself she was prepared. She had researched everything from ritual chants to local slang. What she had not prepared for was Daria…three weeks of Daria Cross breathing down her neck.
Austra stood with a small cluster of new recruits at the edge of a training circle. Daria Cross stepped in with a Fire-Genasi glow and the calm, predatory energy of someone who had absolutely fought a god and won through pure spite. She was tall, molten-steady, and intimidatingly beautiful. Austra stared….too long.
Daria lifted an eyebrow. “Either fight me,” she said, “or get me a drink. Standing around gawking is weird for both of us.”
Austra, flustered and thrilled, murmured under her breath, “Why not both?”
Darvin snorted from the corner. Daria pretended not to hear. She turned back to the recruits, voice crisp. “This is where you’ll train. Three weeks. Fail any test, and you’re out.”
“Out as in ‘leave quietly’ out,” Austra asked lightly, “or ‘dumped into the lava’ out?”
Daria didn’t blink. “Depends on the failure.”
Austra grinned. “I love a clear grading rubric.”
Darvin huffed a laugh. Daria shot him a look sharp enough to curdle milk. Austra filed that away: Daria Cross did not like when people found things funny. Which, naturally, made Austra want to make her laugh more.
Training began with obstacle courses designed by someone who clearly hated joy. Austra saw nothing but opportunities to show off. She darted across moving platforms, slid through narrow crevices, and launched herself off heated pillars with quick bursts of wind. Every time she landed with a flourish, her gaze flicked instinctively to the observation balcony. Daria was always there. Watching. Assessing. Trying very hard not to look impressed.
At the end of the day came their first official test. Through careful eavesdropping and casual questions, Austra learned she was the only recruit who had been run through an obstacle course before her intake interview, which explained why this test felt almost polite: Cross a narrow beam suspended over a glowing magma lake while dodging thrown projectiles.
Austra danced across it with wind beneath her feet, flipping once, just to irritate Daria. She landed perfectly. She expected a rebuke. Instead, Daria rolled her eyes and muttered, “Show-off.”
Austra’s heart performed a full somersault. “Well,” Austra said lightly, “I have to impress someone.” She meant it as a joke. But the words landed too close to truth.
DAY TWO
Daria- The Wink
Daria spent breakfast with her brother on the observation balcony, reviewing trial plans as recruits filtered back into the atrium below. She sat and leaned against a basalt pillar, her arms folded, and watched one specific initiate stride in with a confidence that irritated her from the moment she saw her.
The woman moved with the kind of swagger Daria associated with nobles and thieves: too sure of her steps, too quick with a smirk, too pretty to trust. Air Genasi. Pale eyes. A mouth made for lies. Daria hated her on sight.
“What is that look?” Darvin muttered beside her.
“She’s trouble,” Daria said.
“You haven’t even seen her fight.”
“I don’t need to.” Daria’s jaw tightened. Storm-girl held herself like she’d tasted privilege from birth. Perfect posture. Perfect hair, like a sky princess. “She screams, I’ve never worked a day in my life,’” Daria said.
Darvin squinted. “She screams, ‘I will absolutely punch you in the throat.’ Look at her.”
Daria did look. Austra appraised the room with sharp, calculating eyes, noting escape routes, blind spots, and weapon racks, all subtle and precise. A prickle of respect sparked in Daria’s chest. Damn it. Austra’s gaze lifted to the balcony. When she locked eyes with Daria, she winked. Daria’s scowl deepened so hard that Austra had to feel it from forty feet away.
Daria pushed off the pillar and descended the stairs, Darvin following a few paces behind. She was furious at the thought she didn’t want, the unwelcome flash of noticing how the girl’s eyes looked like stormlight on glass. She shoved the spark down as soon as it flickered. On the atrium floor, Daria stood with hands clasped behind her back, posture straight, expression unreadable. She knew she was intimidating: youngest squad commander in the rebellion, heir to the Priestess, the blade that never shook, the one no one wanted to spar with twice. She let recruits fear her. Fear kept them alive.
The pale-haired Air Genasi moved like she thought the room belonged to her. And when she crossed the atrium with danger tucked into every line of her body, Daria felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: A shift. A question. Austra’s gaze caught Daria’s. Held. Didn’t flinch. Interesting. Daria masked her curiosity with calm and rolled her shoulders, fire flickering beneath her skin.
“Recruit,” she called, voice even. “Step forward.”
The woman obeyed, quiet, fluid, controlled. Not bad. Daria circled once, assessing stance and balance, the way the initiate met her eyes without fear. Confidence wasn’t rare. But confidence that wasn’t hiding incompetence was.
“What are you waiting for?” Austra asked, tone maddeningly neutral. “Permission to breathe?” A few recruits snickered.
Daria did not smile. But her pulse ticked faster. She drew her dagger. “No. I’m waiting to see if you can fight.”
A brow lifted. “Oh? And if I can’t?”
“Then you won’t last a day in the rebellion.”
A pause. A faint spark in the Air Genasi’s eyes. “Then I suppose I’d better impress you.”
Bold. Reckless. Stupid. And Daria hated how awake it made her feel. “Show us what you can do,” she said.
Austra twirled her daggers, rolled her shoulders, and dipped into a mocking bow. “Your wish, Commander.”
Austra- Their First Match
She lunged. Daria met every strike with fluid, brutal precision, turn, parry, pivot, shove. No wasted movement. No gloating. No joy. Just discipline. Austra loved it immediately. Daria swept her legs. Austra caught herself mid-fall with a burst of air. Daria feinted and nearly cost her a dagger. When they broke, both of them breathed hard.
Daria lifted one eyebrow, just a fraction. “You’re better than you look.”
Austra smiled. “And you’re angrier than you look.”
Daria did not smile. But Austra saw her shoulders shift, barely, like something was being held back. Austra’s pulse skipped. Daria moved like wildfire: sharp, bright, consuming. Austra had expected brute strength. Instead, every strike had purpose.
They moved. Wind met flame. Austra dodged by inches, heat brushing her cheek. She countered with a swift kick. Daria caught her ankle. Austra flipped with a wind-burst and landed behind her. The recruits around them gasped.
Austra laughed. “You’re fun.”
Daria pivoted, expression razor-focused, and came at her faster. Sparks leapt where fire met steel. Wind roared. Heat pressed against cool current. They circled, matched too cleanly.
“You’re good,” Austra said, breathless.
Daria’s eyes narrowed. “You talk too much.”
Austra winked. “Only when I’m flirting.”
For half a second, Daria’s composure cracked. Austra caught it. And delighted in it.
Daria- Pinning Her
Her face was too close. Her laugh was too pretty. Her movements were too fluid, and confident, and impossible to ignore. Daria drove forward harder, fury and fascination tangled together. “Yield?” she demanded.
Austra dodged gracefully. “Make me.”
Heat jolted through Daria’s chest. She hated the feeling. She hated her. But she couldn’t look away. Daria faltered, barely. Austra tried to take the opening, sweeping her legs. Daria caught her, twisted, and pinned her with a forearm across her collarbone. Austra lay stunned beneath her. Daria stared down, breath hot, eyes molten. For one suspended heartbeat, everything stilled.
Austra whispered, “Hi.”
Daria exhaled, shaky, traitorous. “Get up,” she rasped, pushing away too quickly. “Everyone, partner up,” Daria bellowed, shoving the heat down hard enough to hurt. “Sparring drills begin now.”
She stepped out of the ring, leaving Austra on the floor, and strode for the observation deck while Darvin moved to organize the drills. The initiate fought too well. Not like a street rogue, her stance had discipline. Not like a Zephyrian soldier, her footwork was too agile. And not like a court-trained mage, her magic was too improvised.
A mixture. A mystery. Daria hated mysteries. Austra grinned through the entire spar like she was enjoying herself, which only made it worse. Fun didn’t belong here. Fun got people killed. And yet, when Austra winked after blocking a brutal strike, something warm flickered behind Daria’s ribs. Daria extinguished it ruthlessly.
Austra- Blowing Kisses
Austra had met intimidating people before. She had grown up in a palace where nobles sharpened their smiles like knives. But Daria Cross was something else. Stoic. Controlled. Exact. Her expression barely shifted as they fought. Her eyes stayed cool, calculating every angle. Every movement was efficient, purposeful. Austra couldn’t read her. Which made her want to. Steel met fire and sparked. When their arms brushed, Daria didn’t react outwardly, but Austra felt the brief tightening beneath her grip, a muscle locking down. Holding something back. Austra grinned. Daria exhaled quietly through her nose…not a sigh, not irritation. Something smaller. Tighter. A crack. A hint of the woman beneath the iron. Austra wanted more.
She was almost offended when Daria left her sprawled on the floor and walked out of the ring, announcing Darvin would lead drills. Austra sprang up with a theatrical flourish, hoping Daria would look back. Daria didn’t. She was already ascending the stairs with the slow, deadly grace of a predator indulging a hunt.
The rest of the day, Austra danced between blows, spun like wind, dodged like mischief made flesh, and more than once, she showed off for Daria so shamelessly that even other recruits noticed.
“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” muttered Lorn, an Earth Genasi grappler.
Austra winked. “Not today, boulder boy.”
She flipped backward off his shoulders, landed perfectly, and blew him a kiss. From the balcony, Daria watched, jaw tight. Austra felt her stare like heat across her skin.
Daria- A Storm
She looks like a storm given legs, Daria thought unwillingly from the balcony. She couldn’t help noticing the Air Genasi’s eyes…wind-tossed glass…and the smile that said she wasn’t afraid of fire.
Daria didn’t like being intrigued by strangers. She liked it even less how quickly she noticed the curve of Austra’s mouth, the tilt of her chin.
She reminded herself she did not like Austra. People who flirted through danger triggered every instinct she possessed. People who laughed at authority were worse. People who hid pain under humor…
Daria cut the thought off. Austra was unpredictable. A problem. An unknown quantity. And worse, she made Daria feel deeply, inconveniently alive.
DAY THREE
Austra- The Salute
On the third morning, Daria’s squad gathered for drills when Austra sauntered in, spinning a dagger idly around her finger. “Reporting for duty,” she chirped.
Then she did it: feet angled out, elbow bent too dramatically, a ridiculous little half-bow, followed by two finger guns and a wink. “Commander.”
Half the squad choked. Darvin actually coughed.
Daria stared at Austra as if she’d insulted an ancestor. “What,” she asked flatly, “was that.”
“My salute,” Austra said innocently.
“That is not a salute.”
“It’s mine.”
“It’s unacceptable.”
“I can do it again slower if you need.”
A strangled sound escaped someone. Daria shot death in every direction at once. Austra beamed. She vowed to wink at Daria at least once per day. Maybe twice.
Daria- Finger Guns, Again
Daria genuinely believed the initiate was mocking her. The exaggerated half-bow. The ridiculous gesture. The wink. She should have reprimanded her immediately. Instead, for one horrifying moment, Daria felt her lips twitch. She crushed it before it could become anything recognizable. Austra watched with hopeful mischief. Daria forced her expression into stone. “Never do that again.”
Austra only grinned.
Daria turned away and buried herself at a weapons rack before she did something unforgivable, like smile. Or throw Austra into a lava pit.
DAYS FOUR THROUGH SIX
Austra- Corrections
Austra learned quickly that Daria didn’t raise her voice, didn’t gloat, didn’t banter. She commanded a room with a glance. Over the next few days, Daria corrected Austra’s stances with the lightest touch, fingers ghosting along her shoulder blade, nudging her hips into alignment, guiding her wrists. Each contact sent heat skittering up Austra’s spine. Daria’s focus never wavered.
Austra did, constantly, especially the first time Darvin made Daria laugh. The sound was brief, startled, and gone too fast. It still sent shivers down Austra’s spine.
The worst part was that Daria noticed when Austra’s confident, flirty mask slipped. She never reacted outwardly; she was too controlled for that, but every time Austra’s breath hitched at a correction, Daria paused half a beat too long. Just long enough to make Austra wonder.
Austra had always been good at reading people. Years in Zephyra’s courts had trained her to track micro-expressions, calculate motives, and map vulnerabilities. It made her excellent at manipulation. It kept her alive. But Daria Cross was a puzzle made of obsidian. Every recruit wore their heart somewhere visible, on sleeves, in fists, in anger, in hope. Daria wore hers behind fortified walls, guarded by discipline and a devotion to her people that ran marrow-deep. She didn’t boast. Didn’t joke. Didn’t flirt.
Austra had to work for every inch. And gods, she loved the work.
Once, Daria stepped too close, heat brushing Austra’s cheek like a kiss.
“Eyes on the target, recruit,” Daria murmured.
Austra swallowed. “I am.”
She was supposed to be infiltrating a dangerous rebel faction. Instead, she was getting flustered by Daria’s touch. Austra began holding her stances just slightly wrong, so Daria would have to correct her. Daria’s hands stayed firm and impersonal, no lingering, no teasing. Austra leaned back once, testing. Daria stepped away immediately. Professional. Disciplined. Infuriating. But once, just once, when Austra dodged a strike and spun too close, Daria caught her elbow to steady her. Their eyes met. For one heartbeat, Austra saw something unguarded behind the calm: Heat. Curiosity. Restraint pulled painfully tight.
Then the wall slammed back into place. “Don’t lose focus,” Daria said flatly.
Austra smirked. “Hard not to, standing this close to you.”
Daria’s breath stillled for half a second. Then: “Train harder.”
Austra felt the hit land.
The training caverns ran on their own rhythm with drills, rations, and lights-out. No windows. No sky. Only stone corridors and the low hum of ventilation shafts that never stopped. Instructors kept the initiates moving so fast that even finding a moment to breathe felt like a transgression. Austra mapped everything anyway: every footstep, every blind corner, every place torchlight thinned to embers. They weren’t allowed beyond the atriums, but the atriums were old and sprawling, full of disused chambers no one bothered to seal.
One night, she slipped away under the excuse of refilling her canteen, ducking into a maintenance passage lit by a single guttering lantern. The air tasted of rust and old water. Perfect. She knelt behind a stack of unused target dummies and unwrapped the sending stone. Even through the cloth, it was warm. It always warmed when she waited too long.
She pressed her thumb to the sigil and forced her thoughts into a clean, orderly current. Drills progressing normally. No suspicion. Cover intact. Mapping interpersonal dynamics. Tight. Functional. There was no room for emotion. The stone would record it, however faintly, and her mother would feel it with unsettling clarity. The warmth deepened as the message stored. Austra tapped the stone twice with a gloved knuckle. The glow sank inward. Sent.
She wrapped it again and rose, brushing dust from her knees. The caverns hummed around her, indifferent and watchful. Next time, she’d need a new excuse, a new unmonitored corner.
Privacy down here felt like contraband. Still, she would find a way. She always did.
Daria- The Problem
Austra was a menace. A laughing, flirting, infuriating cyclone of a menace. She didn’t respect silence, stillness, decorum, or Daria’s emotional stability. She made jokes where there should have been tension. She made tension where there should have been discipline. She made Daria feel things Daria had walled off years ago.
When Austra saluted her with finger guns that one morning, Daria felt a spark of joy so sharp and unexpected it nearly unbalanced her. She had to walk away before her face betrayed her. Leaders didn’t smile at initiates.
Austra was fast, not just in combat. Emotionally. She pivoted constantly, joking one moment, deadly focused the next. Impossible to predict. Impossible to categorize. The worst part was that Austra noticed things. Near-invisible tells. Half-second pauses. The way Daria’s fingers curled when frustrated. The way she bit her lower lip when thinking. No one noticed those things. No one except Darvin. And now…Her.
Once, while Daria corrected a recruit’s stance, she glanced up and caught Austra watching with a soft expression, like Daria was something worth looking at. The look rattled her badly enough that she dropped the staff she was holding. The entire room stared. “That was intentional,” Daria snapped. It wasn’t. Austra smirked like she knew it. Daria walked away before she burned herself alive.
Later, in a rare quiet moment with Darvin sharing late-night drinks and trial notes, he teased her mercilessly.
“She likes you,” he said on day six.
“No,” Daria replied.
“She does. And you like—”
“Finish that sentence,” Daria warned, “and I’ll throw you into the lava.”
Darvin grinned. “Austra would dive in after me.”
Daria had the horrifying thought that this might actually be true. She had always believed she was immune to distraction. A leader couldn’t afford to be swayed by jokes, beauty, or clever eyes. A leader couldn’t indulge curiosity about someone whose history didn’t add up.
And yet…Austra existed. That was the whole problem.
Austra- Almost Pinning Daria
Austra was disappointed when the first week ended without another chance to spar with Daria again. She was paired for practice matches with everyone else, never Daria, and she suspected it was intentional.
After drills, while the other recruits filed out for dinner, Austra lingered in the atrium and watched Daria polish blades at the weapons rack. She liked the way Daria fought: direct, unyielding, honest in the way only someone used to being obeyed without question could be. But she loved the way Daria corrected her stance.
Austra walked loudly into the center ring and began to “practice” her stance, muttering small adjustments to herself. After a moment, she felt Daria step behind her. Hands settled low on Austra’s waist. Warm. Firm. Lingering longer than necessary.
“You’re tense,” Daria murmured.
Austra suppressed a shiver. “You’re observant.”
“Stop flattering me.”
“I haven’t started.”
From the corner of her eye, Austra saw Daria’s ear tips flush molten red and nearly laughed. Nearly turned. Nearly kissed her.
“You’re off balance,” Daria murmured.
Austra swallowed. “Feels fine to me.”
“It’s not,” Daria said, and squeezed lightly before removing her hand. Austra almost melted.
“Care for a rematch?” Austra breathed, spinning smoothly to face her and dropping into a flawless stance. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding being my sparring partner.”
Daria stilled. Fire bloomed behind her eyes as silence stretched between them. “No finger guns,” Daria warned, low.
Austra grinned. “No promises.”
Daria almost smiled. Almost. Then Daria launched forward at full force. They sparred as if neither of them had anything to lose. Minutes blurred into something like hours. Neither yielded.
When Austra finally pinned Daria with one knee to her stomach, Daria’s eyes swept over her with slow, unmistakable heat.
“You’re better than you look,” Daria panted.
Austra smirked. “You keep saying that, and I keep proving your point.”
Daria flipped her instantly, clean and brutal, and rose. Then she walked out of the ring. Austra lay breathless on the floor, watching Daria stride across the atrium toward the doorway. Daria paused and turned just enough to offer Austra a fraction of a smile. Austra’s heart stopped.
“Don’t stay up too late practicing your stance,” Daria said. “A whole new week starts bright and early.”
Then she disappeared out of the atrium, leaving Austra staring after her, still in cardiac arrest from the first smile Daria had ever directed her way.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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