Forging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: March 12th, 2026
Approx. Length: 2.8k words
Content Notes: 1x mild spice
First Steps into the Crosswinds
Austra- Finding Rhythm
Everything settled into a dangerous, beautiful rhythm. Morning drills. Midday missions. Evening debriefs. Every night ended the same way. Austra would finish her final sweep with the squad, return to the cramped barracks she technically belonged to, start unbuckling her boots, and then something in her would pull her back up the carved steps toward the commanders’ corridor. By the time she reached Daria’s door, she always paused, hand hovering, heart pounding hard enough she was certain even the stone could feel it. And every night, the door opened before she knocked.
Daria never said it aloud, never made it a command or an invitation. She simply stepped aside and let Austra pass, a quiet breath escaping her like she’d been waiting. Austra lived for what came after: late-night touches, stolen kisses, whispered jokes against Daria’s collarbone, the slow heat of shared blankets, Daria’s breath warm at her neck in the dark.
In public, Daria was stoic, cold, and untouchable. In private, she softened like cooled metal reheated, a hand at the back of Austra’s neck in an empty hallway, a brush of fingers during morning drills, a soft kiss pressed to her shoulder in the dark. Austra lived for those moments. And they made everything harder.
During squad training, she and Daria fought exceptionally well together…too well. Austra’s wind complemented Daria’s fire with unnerving precision: gusts redirecting flame, pressure waves scattering enemies straight into Daria’s blades. Their synergy grew so natural that the rest of the squad started joking about it. Austra laughed along, careful and bright.
Their sparring matches ran twice as long as anyone else’s and drew small crowds. When Austra pinned Daria for the first time, straddling her, hair falling loose, Daria stared up at her with unmistakable heat.
“You’re better than you look,” Daria said.
“You keep saying that,” Austra breathed, “and I keep beating you.”
Daria flipped her with a growl that sounded far too pleased.
Daria- Brothers
Austra was too bright. Too quick. Too observant. Too fearless. Daria told herself everything was under control. She focused on strategy, on logistics, on her mother’s objectives. She pretended she wasn’t thinking about Austra every few breaths. She told herself she would untangle this. Eventually. She didn’t know what to do with the fact that Austra returned to her door every night…and that she never once turned her away.
Darvin caught her staring at Austra during lunch. “You’re looking at her again,” he said, grin wicked.
“No, I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Eat your stew, Darvin.”
He winked. “Just saying, if you two ever need alone time, I can take the squad on a field trip.”
Daria elbowed him hard in the ribs. He yelped, then laughed as he walked away. Annoying. Infuriating. Beloved.
Her team made things easier. Austra made everything harder. Daria knew she should put distance between them. She knew it with the same certainty she knew battlefield formations and supply lines. And still, every night, when Austra came back to her door, Daria stepped aside and let her in.
Austra- Becoming Crosswinds
Daria’s squad, and now Austra’s, wasn’t perfect. They weren’t polished soldiers. But they became a family faster than Austra expected.
Mika, the Fire Genasi with a laugh like popping sparks, called her Princess with relentless affection and brewed sun-root liquor that was technically illegal and absolutely explosive. He fought like a boulder rolling downhill: unstoppable, blunt, and fiercely loyal.
Varn, the quiet Earth Genasi grappler, pretended not to care about anything and still somehow always handed Austra snacks when she looked tired.
Rill, a wiry Air Genasi scout, worshipped Austra’s magic and copied every trick she used, sometimes seconds after seeing it.
Darvin, Daria’s second, carried the lighter edge of the squad’s seriousness.
And Daria. Leader. Storm. Anchor. Problem.
They trained together, bled together, ate together, lounged in volcanic vents together. And Austra found herself falling for all of them, just a little. Mika especially.
“You got that fancy Zephyrian posture,” he teased one day, mimicking her rigid shoulders.
Austra shoved him lightly. “You have the posture of a soggy lantern.”
He snorted every time. He reminded her of Irena, warm, protective, sharp, funny. He felt like home in a way Austra hadn’t expected, and that scared her more than anything else.
And then there was Daria. Austra had never imagined she could feel this full and this empty at the same time. Every day, she fell for Daria a little more. Every day, she lived a lie.
More than once, Mika joked, “You know, Princess, you’re the only one who can make Daria blink twice in a day.”
Austra laughed it off and pretended her heart didn’t squeeze painfully tight.
During a training break, Mika flopped onto a stack of supply crates with all the grace of a dying mule. “We need a squad name,” he announced. “A real one. Something powerful. Something that says we’re amazing and mildly dangerous.”
“We have a squad name,” Austra said dryly. “We’re Squad Two.”
“Exactly.” Mika grimaced. “It sounds like it files expense reports.”
“So what are you thinking?” Austra asked. “Ashpunchers?”
Mika lit up. “Ohhh, that’s on the list.”
“You have a list?”
He produced a crumpled sheet of paper like a magician revealing a grand trick. “Preparedness is a virtue.”
Austra unfolded it and immediately regretted everything. “Emberhoppers? Volcanic Gremlins? Mika, what is Team Bonefire?”
“I misspelled ‘bonfire’ once,” Mika said solemnly. “Now it’s a legacy.”
She scanned farther down. “Daria’s Little Nightmares…Mika. No.”
“Oh, that’s the one,” he said smugly. “Daria hates it. Which means it’s perfect.”
Austra’s face heated maroon. “We are not calling ourselves that.”
“Oh, I am,” Mika said blissfully.
Before she could argue further, Daria walked into the training yard.
Mika cupped his hands. “MORNING, COMMANDER! YOUR LITTLE NIGHTMARES ARE WARMED UP AND READY TO GO!”
Daria froze mid-stride. Austra clapped a hand over Mika’s mouth. “Ignore him. Please.”
Daria leveled a slow, withering glare. “I am not acknowledging any of this.”
“See?” Mika whispered through Austra’s fingers. “She loves it.”
“I do not.”
“Just a little?”
“No.”
Austra coughed into her elbow to hide a laugh. “I actually came up with something more… reasonable.”
Mika perked up. Daria’s eyes narrowed.
Austra hesitated, suddenly shy. “Crosswinds.”
Mika blinked. “Okay. That’s actually cool.”
“We move like wind through the rebellion,” Austra said, shrugging. “Fast. Adaptive. Hard to pin down.”
Behind them, Daria stilled. Mika elbowed her. “And because someone’s brain is always full of Commander Cross.”
Austra flushed. Daria turned abruptly, inspecting a far wall with great intensity.
“That’s not—!” Austra sputtered.
“Sure,” Mika said serenely. “Blown away by Crosswinds.”
Austra covered her face. Daria spoke without turning back. “We are not adopting a name.”
“It’s unofficial,” Austra said. “Mika will forget in two days.”
“Never,” Mika whispered solemnly.
Daria’s shoulders lifted with a tiny, helpless exhale, the closest she ever came to amusement.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Do what you want. Keep it off mission reports.”
Mika pumped a fist. “CROSSWINDS FOREVER!”
Austra groaned. Daria walked away without another word. Mika grinned.
Daria- Little Moments
In the middle of a perfectly ordinary morning, Austra was standing in the middle of her room wrestling with a boot strap and muttering curses under her breath. With every tug, her hair bounced. With every curse, her nose scrunched.
Daria watched from the doorway, arms folded, expression carefully stern. Austra didn’t notice she had an audience until the strap finally gave way and she toppled sideways onto the bed. “—oh COME ON!”
Daria snorted. Loudly. Audibly. Unmistakably.
Austra’s head snapped up. “Oh my gods,” she whispered. “Daria. You just laughed.”
Daria straightened instantly. “No, I didn’t.”
“You did. I heard it. Half the GPR heard it.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Austra crawled toward her on hands and knees, slow, deliberate, unmistakably flirtatious, and Daria felt her heartbeat stutter.
“No,” Austra purred. “You laughed, Commander.”
Daria’s jaw tightened. And then, traitorously, the corner of her mouth twitched. Her eyes warmed. A real smile broke through, brief, unguarded, devastating. Austra froze, pulse stuttering, and stared at her with a soft, stunned expression. Daria looked down, suddenly embarrassed.
Austra stood, reached up, and brushed her cheek. “You should do that more,” she whispered. “It looks good on you.”
Heat crept up Daria’s neck. She turned sharply and walked away before she could make things worse. Behind her, Austra bit her lip and watched her go.
Austra- Sneaking Around
By the sixth morning, her pattern had become impossible to miss. Sneaking back into the barracks just before anyone woke had settled into a routine the entire squad must have noticed. Oathsworn quarters were small, and underground boundaries were thin, voices carried, footsteps echoed, absences were impossible to hide. Austra knew they saw her empty bed. Knew they saw her slip in before breakfast, hair hastily smoothed with her fingers, tunic crooked, boots half-laced. She’d prepared the excuse before anyone asked. “Sorry, my morning routine is… extensive. Cultural thing. Beauty regimen. Takes hours.”
It was a terrible lie in a rebellion cavern where mirrors were scarce and bathing pools were heated by lava instead of luxury. Still, the squad took it in stride. Varn snickered. Mika asked if the regimen involved rare volcanic herbs. Rill muttered that it explained why Austra always looked “annoyingly flawless.” Darvin only gave her a knowing grin. She rolled her eyes and let them believe whatever caused the least trouble.
The lie that twisted her stomach wasn’t that one. It was the report she hadn’t sent. The first report since she’d started spending her nights in Daria’s bed. Every evening she told herself she would slip away, find a quiet corner of the caverns, and do what needed to be done. Every evening, Daria’s hands, or her mouth, or her quiet, exhausted voice, pulled Austra off course. Every night she chose the warmth of Daria’s bed over the cold clarity the mission demanded. And every morning, the sending stone burned hotter against skin, as if reminding her exactly what she was failing to do.
This night was worse. Training had run long. Everyone was exhausted. Austra told herself she would not go to Daria, not tonight, not with the stone pulsing like an accusation beneath her tunic. She needed distance. She needed clarity. She needed discipline.
Her feet carried her anyway. By the time she reached the commanders’ corridor, her breath was uneven, her heartbeat too loud in the quiet. She paused outside Daria’s door, hand hovering, only for it to slide open before she could knock.
Daria stood framed in molten light, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes unreadable until they softened at the sight of Austra. “You came,” she murmured, not a question, not quite relief, but something warm flickering underneath.
Austra stepped inside. The door closed. Heat wrapped around her, cavern heat, Daria’s heat, and she was caught before she could think. She never knew who moved first. One moment they stood a careful breath apart. The next, Daria’s fingers were in her hair, her other hand firm at Austra’s jaw, guiding her in with the steady confidence that undid her every time. Their lips met, slow, sure, terrifyingly familiar. Daria tasted of smoke from the lower vents and something sweeter Austra had never learned to name. She melted before she could stop herself.
When Daria broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against Austra’s, their breaths mingling in the dim volcanic glow.
“You keep looking at me like that,” Austra whispered, voice unsteady.
“Like what?” Daria murmured, lips brushing her cheek.
“Like you already know what I’m going to do.”
“I don’t,” Daria said softly. “I just hope.”
The word ignited something dangerous in Austra’s chest. Daria tugged her gently toward the bed, and Austra followed without resistance. Their mouths found each other again, slower now, deeper. Daria’s hands traced deliberate paths along her arms, her waist, the curve of her back, as if memorizing her piece by piece. Austra let herself give in.
Much later, when kisses softened into quiet breaths and Daria rested against her shoulder, sleep drawing near, Austra pulled the blankets over them both. “I shouldn’t stay,” she whispered.
“You always say that,” Daria murmured, already half-asleep, sliding an arm around her waist. “And yet you do.”
Austra closed her eyes. She did. That was the problem.
She lay awake long after they settled with Daria draped half across her, breath warm and steady against her collarbone. The room smelled of heat and sweat and the faint metallic tang that always clung to Daria. Lava-light flickered across the carved ceiling, patterns Austra had no right to memorize.
The sending stone lay buried in her clothes on the floor. She should have reported days ago. She should have reported before she came here again. Carefully, she shifted. Daria murmured, half a word, maybe Austra’s name, and the sound struck like a blow. Austra stilled, then eased herself free inch by inch. Daria stirred just enough that her fingers brushed Austra’s hip in a silent question.
“I’ll be right back,” Austra whispered. The lie tasted like iron.
Daria’s eyes stayed closed, though her brow tensed for a heartbeat before sleep claimed her again. Austra dressed quickly, forcing her shaking hands to still, and slipped out through the narrow side passage. The sending stone grew hotter with every step upward.
Outside, Pyronous’s night air cut sharp and clean, stinging her lungs. Lanterns crackled below; the city murmured, unaware that her footsteps were unraveling something she never meant to weave. She knelt at the familiar outcropping, shielded from view, the wind carrying sound away. The stone warmed before she touched it.
Integrated into Cross’ squad. Gaining trust. Cover intact. Access widening. A pulse. Waiting. She forced herself onward. Squad dynamics stable. Training rhythms consistent. Leadership approachable. Her breath shook. Images surged unbidden, Daria’s hands on her shoulders, her mouth at Austra’s throat, the way she whispered her name like it meant something. Austra crushed the memory flat.
Captain Cross’ oversight remains professional. No concerns. The stone pulsed more slowly, confused. Mission unchanged. Priority remains monitoring rebel strategy from within squad. Stored. Tap. Tap. Sent. The heat faded. Something inside Austra folded tight and small.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the wind. She didn’t know who the apology was for, her mother, Daria, herself, or the mission. She only knew that each report felt heavier than the last. And this one felt like it might break her.
By the time she returned to the caverns, guilt had already settled deep beneath her sternum. The sending stone lay cool and inert now, relieved. She wished she could say the same. Daria’s door stood unchanged. Austra paused, hand hovering just shy of the latch. She wasn’t sure what she expected. Daria awake? Daria gone? Daria’s bed cold? She drew a slow, steadying breath and pushed the door open.
Inside, Daria slept exactly as Austra had left her, hair loose, brow soft, chest rising in the steady rhythm Austra had felt earlier against her own back. Austra moved quietly, shedding boots and tunic, sliding back into bed. Daria shifted instinctively, pulling her close, fitting their bodies together with unconscious trust. Austra went still. It felt like sliding into a memory she hadn’t earned the right to touch again. The familiarity of it broke something small and fiercely guarded inside her. She shouldn’t be here… she shouldn’t have left…she shouldn’t have come back…she shouldn’t want this.
She wanted it too much. She thought of the Oathfire flickering around her only two weeks ago, and Daria kissing her in her final duel, and her first night with Daria, the way Daria had breathed her name like a command and a confession all at once. She squeezed her eyes shut. The guilt flooded in behind the heat. Because she knew what she told the stone. She knew what the mission required of her. And none of it left room for this.
Daria sighed softly in her sleep and tightened her arm around Austra’s waist. The sound shattered what little resolve remained.
“This is going to ruin me,” Austra whispered.
Daria slept on, unaware of the storm that had returned to her bed. Austra lay awake a long time, suspended between the oath she’d sworn, the report she’d sent, and the woman holding her like she belonged. Sleep came eventually. Peace did not.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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