Forging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: Apr 23rd, 2026
Approx. Length: 4.7k words
Content Note: 3x Hot
Austra- Waiting
Daria started having private strategy meetings with the High Priestess, and every time she came back, Austra could see the difference. In the eyes. In the shoulders. In the way her mouth set like a blade being sharpened.
Rill’s gaze lingered on Daria’s tense spine whenever she thought no one was looking. Varn muttered one afternoon, half to his tea, half to the lava veins in the rock, “She’s wound tighter than a crossbow string.” Mika, bless his blunt soul, leaned into Austra’s shoulder and whispered, “You two okay? She’s acting stormy.”
Austra laughed and called him nosy. She teased him until he grinned and went away satisfied. But she wasn’t okay. Because Daria wore two versions of herself now: the Commander who returned from the Priestess’s chamber, hard and razor-edged, and the woman who saved softness for Austra behind a closed door. And recently… the first version was more present.
Daria disappeared one night without warning. No kiss. No lingering look. Just a clipped, “I’ll be gone for the evening,” before she strode down the corridor toward the Priestess’s private chambers…the kind of place only high-ranking officers entered, where secrets lived like smoke.
Austra watched her go and felt something cold twist low in her stomach. She waited in Daria’s room anyway. Curled in her blanket. Breathing her in like it could keep her steady. Ember-smoke and clean steel and the warm mineral scent of the caverns. Austra stared at the ceiling until the lava-light blurred and her eyes burned.
When the door finally opened a few hours before dawn, Daria stopped short. “Austra.” Neutral. Too neutral. Austra flinched like she’d been struck.
“You’re in late,” Austra said quietly.
“Meetings ran long.”
Austra rose slowly. Studied her. Daria’s hair was pulled tight. Her boots were dusted with ash. Her face was closed in the way it got when she was carrying something she refused to name.
“You could have told me not to come,” Austra said.
Daria didn’t answer. She didn’t meet her eyes, that was always the worst sign. She brushed past Austra and started unbuckling her boots with sharp, efficient movements. Austra stepped closer without thinking and touched her wrist.
Daria froze. For one breath, Austra felt the debate happen inside her, lean in, or retreat. Retreat won.
“I can’t,” Daria said softly. The words cut straight through Austra’s ribs. “I can’t tonight,” Daria repeated, and the second time it sounded like a sentence she’d forced herself to memorize. “You can stay if you want. But I need to focus.”
Then she disappeared into her study. The door clicked shut. Austra stared at it like staring could make it open again. Sleep eventually claimed her. Daria was gone when she woke.
The next day, Daria trained them in the upper tunnels like she was trying to bleed something out of herself. She pushed harder. Corrected faster. Barked orders like each one was a shield between her and whatever the Priestess had said. At one point she took Austra down in a drill so fast Austra barely registered the move, wrist, shoulder, twist, floor. Brutal and efficient.
Daria hovered over her, breath ragged. They were close. So close. And yet Daria wasn’t here. Her eyes were elsewhere, heavy with an unseen weight. Austra swallowed and whispered, barely audible, “Daria?”
Daria blinked, like she’d forgotten where she was. She stepped back immediately and offered Austra her hand. It was dutiful. Not tender. “Again,” Daria said flatly. Austra took her hand anyway.
That night, Daria returned well past midnight. Austra sat on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, unable to pretend. “Where were you?” she asked quietly.
Daria stopped in the doorway like she’d hit a wall. “Meetings,” she said again, clipped and sharp.
“With the Priestess?” Austra pressed.
Daria’s jaw tightened. Answer enough.
Austra stood. “You used to tell me things.”
Something flickered in Daria’s eyes, pain, maybe, or fear. She swallowed it down. “This isn’t something I can share.”
“You share everything else,” Austra whispered. “With me.”
Daria closed her eyes. For a heartbeat her composure cracked, and Austra saw the torment underneath, war on too many fronts, too many blades pointed inward. “It’s… complicated,” Daria said finally. “And it’s safer if you don’t know.”
The words hit like a blunt-force spell. Austra’s voice trembled. “I can handle complicated.”
Daria looked at her then, really looked. The gold in her eyes flickered with conflict. Longing. A fear so sharp it made Austra’s stomach twist. “I can’t risk you,” Daria said.
It should have sounded loving. Protective. Sweet. Instead it sounded like a door locking. The world tilted. Austra stood very still, holding her breath the way she did before every lie she sent through the stone, except this time she wasn’t lying. She was just bleeding.
Daria stepped closer. Not close enough, but closer. She cupped Austra’s cheek, thumb brushing her jaw with tenderness that didn’t match the wall she’d just built. “I’m still here,” Daria murmured. “Just… not all the way.”
Austra leaned into the touch because she couldn’t help it. Because she wanted whatever pieces Daria still offered, even if they were splinters. And in that quiet place where her spy instincts lived, Austra felt a cold certainty settle. Something was shifting. The Priestess was stirring something inside Daria. A hook. An order. A mission. A blade being lifted. Something that might pull Daria away for good.
So Austra did what she did best. She kissed Daria softly, sweetly, like nothing was breaking. And lied to herself this time. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” But she could already feel the storm coming.
Daria- Planning
The Priestess’s plans grew sharper by the night. Her private chamber reeked of incense and molten stone, the air thick with smoke that curled around strategy maps like hungry spirits. Daria stood rigid at attention as her mother circled her in slow, measured steps.
“We strike before the next Zephyrian shipment arrives,” the Priestess said. “Hit the rim, take the guard posts. Leave no witnesses.”
Daria’s stomach turned. “There will be miners on rotation,” she said carefully. “Families in the lower ring.”
“Casualties,” her mother corrected coolly, “are inevitable in revolution.”
“But avoidable,” Daria snapped before she could stop herself.
The Priestess’s eyes flashed, fire and warning. “You are losing your edge, daughter.”
Daria closed her mouth so hard her teeth clicked. She bowed her head. “Priestess.”
Walking out of that chamber felt like dragging a blade between her ribs. She used to believe in this. Used to believe in her mother. Used to believe she could burn freedom into existence. Now the only thing she believed in without question was Austra. And that terrified her more than any command.
She took the fury into training. “Again!” she barked, circling the squad as they fought through defensive rotations. “If you can’t hold a choke point for ten minutes, you’ll be dead in one!”
Mika stumbled on uneven stone. Rill muttered something sharp to Varn. Darvin shot Daria a look she refused to meet. Austra held her stance perfectly. Of course she did. It made Daria angrier, Austra’s competence, her steadiness, the way she still looked at Daria like she could be trusted.
They trained until the torches guttered, until arms shook, until sweat stung eyes. Even then, Daria wanted more. Wanted to pound the doubt out of her body, burn her mother’s voice out of her skull. Darvin stepped in front of her.
“That’s enough,” he said quietly. And gods help her, Daria listened.
Austra waited for her again that night. Quiet. Patient. Too patient. Daria slammed the door shut behind her. Austra rose from the bed and took one step forward. Just one. And Daria broke. She grabbed Austra by the waist and kissed her like she could swallow the decisions she couldn’t make. Like she could bury her fear inside Austra’s mouth and pretend it wasn’t there.
Austra responded instantly, hands tangling in Daria’s hair, body pressing close like she’d been starving all day. Daria pinned her against the wall. Hard. Hungry. Desperate. Austra gasped with want. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. She met Daria’s fire with her own, breathless and unafraid.
“Daria,” Austra whispered against her mouth, trembling and warm, “talk to me.”
“No,” Daria growled. “Not tonight.”
And she kissed her harder. Austra didn’t ask again. Their bodies collided like the only language left. It was raw, frantic, almost brutal, but underneath it lived something worse than hunger…devotion…the kind that made Daria’s chest ache.
After Daria had devoured Austra ravenously, and Austra had ridden Daria senseless, when breathing slowed and the world stopped shaking, Austra traced slow circles on Daria’s shoulder.
“Whatever’s happening,” Austra murmured, “you’re not alone.”
That, more than anything, nearly broke Daria.
The Priestess called her back the next morning. “We need a second strike,” she said. “Simultaneous with the first. The Queen will not anticipate coordination.”
“Commander Navar’s team isn’t prepared for a synchronized assault,” Daria argued.
“Then they will learn,” the Priestess snapped. “Or die.”
Daria bowed stiffly and left without another word, sickness hot in her veins.
She took it out on the squad again. On drills. On herself. Her blade work was merciless. Her commands sharp enough to draw blood. Even Rill, normally unshakable, shot Austra a look that clearly said: What’s going on? Austra stayed close. Too close. Like she was trying to read Daria.
She couldn’t stand it. The moment the door closed behind Austra that night, when Austra said her name, soft and concerned and loving, everything detonated.
Daria shoved her against the wall. Austra gasped, wanting. And Daria kissed her like she needed to silence every thought, every order, every impossible conflict tearing her in half. Austra’s fingers slid under Daria’s shirt and found the scars she never let anyone touch. Daria froze. Austra didn’t move.
“You can trust me,” Austra whispered into her ear. The words tore Daria open. She kissed Austra again, harder, deeper, like the only truth she could speak was the one she pressed into Austra’s skin.
]Daria wasn’t gentle. Austra didn’t want her to be. Daria nipped at Austra’s neck as she pinned her greedily against the wall, knee driving into Austra’s warmth. Daria almost growled as she tore off Austra’s clothes, pulled Austra across the room, and tugged off her own clothes between frantic kisses. Daria tugged Austra onto her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed. Austra bucked as Daria’s finger slid inside her and took her nipple in a rough bite. She lost herself in Austra’s warmth, in her moans, in her nails scratching up Daria’s back. She needed this…needed Austra… needed to lose herself. She pulled Austra’s hand into her own heat, and they moaned into each other’s mouths as they peaked together.
When they collapsed in shaking breathes, Austra ran her fingers through Daria’s hair, soothing and slow.
“Daria,” she whispered. “What’s happening to you?”
Daria stared at the stone ceiling. “I can’t tell you.”
Austra didn’t say it was okay this time. She just held her. Which somehow made it worse.
The next morning, Daria stood at the mouth of the training tunnel before drills and watched her squad gather, her family, her Crosswinds, and watched Austra move among them like she belonged. She couldn’t protect them. Not from the Priestess. Not from what was being asked of her. Not from herself.
Austra caught her staring, concern sharp in silver-blue eyes. Something inside Daria fractured. She wanted to tell her everything. She told her nothing.
Austra– Conflicted
She felt it first in the silence. Not the comfortable kind, the warm, crackling quiet of nights spent curled around Daria’s heartbeat, but a sharp-edged stillness that settled into the caverns like a new, unwelcome inhabitant. Even the lava seemed to run more quietly beneath the stone. Even the air tasted different.
Daria had been disappearing for nearly three weeks. Vanishing into the High Priestess’s chambers with clenched fists and returning with a shadow behind her eyes Austra had never seen before. Something was coming. Something violent. The caverns knew it the way bodies knew storms.
Darvin watched Daria with subtle, worried glances. Varn bit his lip more than usual, like he was chewing on words he didn’t trust himself to say. Mika kept making jokes with too much volume, too much brightness, bait for laughter that never came. Rill barely pretended to find it funny. And Daria… Daria burned hotter every day, as if fury were the only fuel she allowed herself.
Austra pretended she wasn’t scared. She failed. After dinner one night, while Daria disappeared again toward the Priestess’s private corridor, Austra wandered until she found a small chamber that looked like no one had stepped inside in months. It was half-collapsed storage, old crates, broken lantern brackets, dust that glittered faintly in the glow of lava-veins. It smelled like stale stone and abandonment.
She pulled the sending stone from beneath her belt. It sat in her palm like a living thing. Waiting. Expectant. Silent. Hungry. Austra hated it more every day. She stared at the stone until dread tightened her throat. What could she say? That Daria was unraveling? That the Priestess was sharpening her for something ruthless? That fear, not rebellion, had begun to seep into the bones of these caverns? She couldn’t report that. That would paint a target on Daria’s back, and on every person under her command. On Mika’s stupid grin. On Varn’s steadiness. On Rill’s fierce loyalty. On Darvin’s quiet watchfulness. On the Crosswinds. On the woman who slept with her hand on Austra’s ribs like she needed proof she was real.
Austra pressed her palms over her eyes and exhaled shakily. She was supposed to be objective. Detached. A perfect conduit of information. Her mother expected strategic insight. The Queen expected actionable intelligence. The Queendom expected clarity. What Austra had was chaos and a heart that wouldn’t stay disciplined. Still, she set her thumb to the stone. It warmed softly. Listening.
She built the opening the way she’d practiced building masks: clean edges, steady voice, no emotional tremor. Cross’ squad stable. Standard drills. Patrols normal. That should have been enough. It should have ended there. A full lie. A protective silence. But her mother had to be suspicious by now. Too many reports with too little meat. Too many weeks of harmless noise.
Austra swallowed. If she gave nothing, the Queendom would start digging. If they dug, they would find Daria. She hated that she was thinking like this now, calculating risk the way her mother had taught her, except the thing she was protecting wasn’t the mission. It was Daria.
There may be movement brewing within upper leadership. The stone warmed instantly, sensing relevance, tasting blood in the water. Austra chose each word with surgical precision. Meetings between high command appear more frequent than usual. Tone is… urgent. Not who. Not why. Not what.
Possibility of an upcoming operation. Her heart thudded hard enough to bruise. Her mother would want more. A name. A timeline. A target. Austra gave none. Nothing actionable at this time. Will update when information solidifies. The stone cooled. Report accepted.
Austra exhaled like she’d been underwater. She had satisfied the Queendom. She had protected Daria. And she had planted herself firmly in the middle of a storm she could no longer navigate cleanly.
Hours later, Daria entered her quarters with her uniform half undone, jaw set, eyes sharp with unspoken turmoil. Austra looked up from the bed. Her throat ached.
“You’re in late,” she said softly.
Daria didn’t answer. She just stood there staring at Austra like she was both a lifeline and a danger. Austra rose. Approached slowly, careful as approaching a flame. She lifted a hand to Daria’s cheek.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Austra whispered. “But something is coming. Isn’t it?”
Daria’s breath hitched. Just for a moment. Just enough to confirm everything Austra already knew.
“I can’t talk about it,” Daria said, voice tight. Raw. Exhausted.
Austra nodded. “I know.”
She pulled Daria into her arms. And Daria melted into her with a shudder she tried to hide.
Daria- Fights
The mission had almost gone sideways. She had been planning it with the Priestess for weeks, carving it into the map like a wound: angles, timing, choke points, retreat paths. Precision. Discipline. No room for doubt.
And yet, one wrong shift in patrol timing, one unexpected Zephyrian scout, and they had come too close to losing control. Daria was already fraying at the edges when Austra confronted her afterward. Her mother’s expectations pressed like smoke on her ribs.
“You compromised the retreat point,” Daria said, pacing with clipped steps, each one sharp enough to count as an order.
Austra tracked her like a hawk, eyes narrowed. “Because your retreat point would’ve boxed us in. You refuse to see how your mother’s tactics are clouding your strategy—”
Daria didn’t turn so much as ignite. “Do not bring her into this.”
“Why not?” Austra shot back. “You follow her path until it kills people. It nearly did tonight.”
A twitch in Daria’s shoulder, fast, involuntary, a tell. “You don’t understand,” Daria muttered.
“Then explain it.”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Austra’s breath punched out of her. “You owe your squad one.”
Daria stepped closer. Heat rolled off her skin. “You’re not just a squadmate.”
“Oh, I noticed,” Austra snapped. “You only shut me out.”
The air between them surged, anger, frustration, fear, longing, tangling into something volatile. Daria took another step. Austra matched her, chin lifted, defiant as flame. “Don’t tell me how to lead,” Daria hissed. “You don’t understand our strategy. You don’t understand my position.”
Austra stepped closer, voice low but fierce. “I understand when you’re putting the squad in danger because you’re too afraid to push back against your mother.”
Daria’s vision narrowed. Her pulse roared. “Don’t you dare,” she said, voice shaking.
But Austra wasn’t intimidated. She never was. “You want to break away from her,” Austra pressed. “I know you do. You don’t even agree with her methods—”
“Stop.” Daria’s voice cracked like a whip. “Stop saying things you’re not supposed to know.”
Austra didn’t back down. She moved closer. “That you want peace?” she demanded. “That you hate the killing? Hate the escalation? Hate the idea of becoming the next version of her—”
“I SAID STOP!” Daria slammed her hand into the wall beside Austra’s head. The impact rang through the stone. Her breathing was ragged. Panic. She wasn’t angry at Austra. Not truly. She was furious because Austra was right.
“You don’t get it,” Daria growled. “You don’t know what it’s like, carrying a legacy like mine. If I hesitate, if I falter, if I question…everything falls apart.”
Austra’s breath brushed Daria’s cheek. Close now. Too close. “Then feel something,” Austra whispered. “Daria. Just… feel it.”
Daria recoiled like she’d been struck. “I can’t feel around you,” she snarled. “I can’t think. I can’t strategize. I can’t lead.”
Austra’s eyes flared. “Oh, that’s rich,” she snapped. “You blame me for the fact that you actually have emotions?”
Daria froze. Austra didn’t. She shoved Daria’s shoulder hard enough to make her stumble back a step. “Stop pretending you don’t want this,” Austra said, voice shaking with wrath and want. “We’ve been sleeping together for nearly six months. You don’t get to keep pushing me away and then dragging me back every time you need to feel something that isn’t fear.”
Daria’s skin went hot. “You make me lose control!” she shouted.
“Good!” Austra fired back. “Let yourself lose something for once!”
That snapped the last tether. Daria grabbed Austra’s wrists and slammed them above her head against the wall, body pressed close, breath ragged, forehead to forehead. “You make me feel too much,” Daria whispered, voice frayed. “Do you understand that? You’re loud and bright and impossible and I can’t get you out of my head and I hate it.”
Austra exhaled shakily. “You don’t hate it.”
“I hate what it does to me.”
“Then stop fighting it.”
“I can’t.” Daria turned away, shoulders trembling with restraint.
Austra stepped closer behind her. Softer now. “Daria…”
“Stop.” But the word wasn’t sharp. It was breaking.
Austra hesitated, just long enough for Daria to whirl back, eyes burning. “I can’t think around you,” Daria hissed. “I can’t lead cleanly. I can’t get you out of my head.”
“Say it,” Austra demanded. “Say you want me. Say you care about me.”
Daria shoved Austra back into the wall with the force of months of locked-down emotion. Her hands pinned Austra’s shoulders. Their foreheads touched again. Too close. Too charged. Too late to pretend.
“Don’t,” Daria whispered. “Don’t push me into saying things I’m not supposed to want.”
Austra swallowed. “You already want them.”
Daria’s hands spasmed on her shoulders, trembling. Surrender. Austra lifted her hands slowly, cupping Daria’s face with a tenderness that cut clean through the rage. Daria’s eyes fluttered shut. Austra’s thumb brushed her cheek.
Daria snapped. Their mouths collided. Daria grabbed Austra’s collar and kissed her like she was starving. Austra gasped, then kissed back hard enough to match the fight, bodies pressed fully together, heat rolling and clashing, anger unraveling into something molten.
“You piss me off,” Daria said against her mouth.
“Good,” Austra panted. “Keep going.”
“You drive me insane,” Daria growled, and kissed her harder, hands sliding to Austra’s waist, gripping like she needed the hold to stay upright.
Austra twisted and reversed them in one swift, breathless movement. Daria’s back hit the wall this time. Austra’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Oh,” she murmured, “look at that. I can pin you too.”
Daria’s breath hitched, heat curling sharp and low. “Don’t gloat.”
“Make me stop,” Austra whispered, lips brushing her jaw.
Daria surged forward, pulling her impossibly close, kissing her like they were still fighting, like the world was burning around them, like this was the only way to survive it. The anger melted. Slowly. Painfully. Something deeper surfaced. Daria’s forehead rested against Austra’s, chest heaving.
“Daria,” Austra breathed, voice trembling now.
Daria shut her eyes and held tighter. Let herself feel. Let herself want. “I want you,” Daria whispered, breaking. “I care for you.”
The confession landed like a blade and a blessing. Austra made a sound like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Their mouths met again, long, drawn-out kisses, hunger softened into need, need bending into something that made Daria’s chest ache.
No more fighting. Just heat. Breath. Hands. The terrible relief of being chosen. And when the tenderness settled in, quiet, trembling, and real, Daria stayed close, like she was afraid the moment might vanish if she let go.
Austra- Aftermath
They were alive. That was the first thing Austra repeated to herself when she woke, wrapped in Daria’s warmth. Alive. Her. Daria. The squad. The mission had been brutal: a coordinated strike on a Zephyrian supply caravan threading between command outposts along the lower volcano ridge. Maneuver-heavy. Risk-heavy. The kind that should have left half the Crosswinds bleeding in the infirmary. But somehow…somehow…they pulled it off with only minor injuries.
Austra lay in Daria’s arms while Daria slept deeper than she had in weeks, her breath steady, her body finally relaxed like she wasn’t bracing for a blade in the dark. Austra stared at the basalt ceiling and replayed every detail she could remember. The Priestess breathing down Daria’s neck for weeks. Daria unraveling. The weeks of sharpened edges and clipped tones and flinching away from softness. The feeling of something big coming, pressing at the walls of the caverns like a storm at the door. And then this mission, supposedly routine, executed with the precision of a larger plan.
Austra rubbed her temples. What are you doing, Priestess? She wasn’t supposed to be solving rebellions. She was supposed to be reporting on them. Vaguely. Strategically. Carefully. Her spy instincts should have been trained on actionable intelligence and clean outcomes. But Daria had returned from the strike looking… not relieved. Not triumphant. Centered. Grounded. Like someone who’d finally been given the right kind of fight. And that made Austra’s chest twist with something hopeful and dangerous. Because it meant the Priestess had gotten what she wanted. Testing. Positioning. Proof.
Austra shifted carefully, listening to Daria’s heartbeat beneath her cheek. The memory of Daria’s words hit her again, sending heat down her throat like a brand: I want you. I care for you.
Daria had admitted it like ripping out a piece of her own armor. Austra pressed a hand to her own mouth to hold back a smile, then nuzzled into Daria’s chest like she could drink the sound of her heartbeat. She had missed this version of Daria. Still brooding and intense. Still sharp as a blade. But not humming with barely-contained panic anymore. Not flinching away from touch like it might break her. Not retreating into her study and locking Austra outside the door.
Something had shifted. For the better… mostly. Because Daria still hadn’t given anything away. Nothing explicit about the Priestess. Nothing about the real order behind the mission. Nothing about what was coming next. And Austra replayed the briefing anyway, like a mind trying to find the trap before it snapped shut: The Priestess rerouting Daria’s squad personally. The emphasis on timing more than objective. The secrecy, even from other officers. The synchronized decoy operation elsewhere in the tunnels. And the way the Priestess looked at Daria afterward was satisfied, hungry, and calculating.
This wasn’t just a raid. It was groundwork. Something big is coming, Austra thought, stomach turning. And the Priestess thinks last night proved Daria’s ready for it. Her throat tightened. Because if that was true, and the Priestess’s aims were anywhere near what Austra feared…then Daria was walking straight toward the kind of war she claimed, in the dark, that she didn’t want. And Austra…she was lying to everyone she loved. What am I doing?
Daria’s eyes fluttered open. She locked onto Austra immediately with her broody expression, but her body relaxed, her hand settling instinctively at Austra’s waist like an anchor. When Daria looked at her, something softened in her gaze. Warmth. Relief. Want. Austra’s chest went molten.
“How are you feeling?” Austra asked quietly.
Daria’s jaw tightened, then loosened. She hesitated like truth was still dangerous. “…Better,” she admitted. “Clearer.”
Austra swallowed. “I missed you,” she whispered.
Daria didn’t answer with words. She answered with touch, hands tightening on Austra’s waist, drawing her closer, like she needed her there. Daria kissed the top of her head and held her like she was real and safe and hers. And Austra melted.
Her heart whispered treacherously: If this is what it feels like to love someone, I’m in too deep to ever climb out. But the spy in her whispered something colder: This is the calm before the strike. The Priestess isn’t done. She’s positioning pieces. And Daria is one of them. Austra closed her eyes. She didn’t know how to protect Daria from her mother. She didn’t know how to protect the squad. She didn’t know how to send a report without betraying everything she loved.
But right now, with Daria’s hands warm at her waist, her forehead resting gently against Austra’s, their breaths syncing under the blankets of Daria’s bed…Austra let herself have the moment. Let herself forget the storm. Because Daria was back. And Austra was hers. For as long as they had left.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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