Forging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: Apr 30th, 2026
Approx. Length: 2.3k words
Content Note: 2x Spicey
Daria- Steadying
For the first time in weeks, Daria could breathe. Not deeply, she wasn’t made for that, but enough. The mission had landed exactly the way her mother wanted: clean strike, minimal loss, strategic pressure on the supply chain that would ripple upward into Zephyrian logistics. Proof, in the Priestess’s eyes, that Daria was ready for the next stage of the campaign. And proof, in Daria’s own, that she could still lead. Could still see clearly. Even with Austra in her life.
That steadiness settled into her bones like warm stone. She hadn’t failed. She hadn’t faltered. She had balanced it all, her mother’s expectations, her squad, her own wanting. The thought alone made her exhale softly.
She sat across from her mother in the cavern hall reserved for high command. The Priestess didn’t eat much. She picked at spiced root vegetables and fire-herb broth, eyes fixed on Daria instead of her food, as if reading her daughter like runes.
“The attack’s timing was perfect,” the Priestess said between sips. “A decisive blow. One that weakens the Queen’s perimeter scouting runs.”
Daria nodded. “Navar reported increased guard rotation at the upper stations. They’re scrambling.”
“Good,” her mother murmured, smiling thinly. “Scrambling enemies reveal their vulnerabilities.”
Daria ate slowly, deliberately. Posture straight. Breathing even. Mind sharp. Just like she was trained. Just like she used to be.
The Priestess watched her more closely still. “You seem… steadier,” she observed. “Focused again.”
Daria swallowed. “Yes, Priestess.”
Her mother’s gaze narrowed, pleased. “So much potential, daughter. Once you shed your distractions, you’ll remember what you are.”
A distraction. Daria’s chest tightened, then steadied again. She did not let the flicker show. She did not let herself think about Austra’s lips against her collarbone that same morning. Or the way Austra had whispered, You’re lighter today, with a small, hopeful smile. Duty first. Always duty first. But gods, the memory warmed her anyway.
Between meetings and drills, she found herself seeking Austra more often. Their months of combustion had cooled into something steadier, a quiet, controlled instinct. A kind of gravity. A kind of comfort.
Once, during a midday break, she passed Austra in a side tunnel. Austra leaned against a support beam, cleaning her dagger with absentminded finesse. Wind curled lazily around her ankles like it wanted to be around her. Their eyes met. Daria should have kept walking. Instead, she stopped.
“So,” Austra murmured, smiling too softly, “someone’s been sleeping, Commander Cross. Color in your cheeks. Full breaths. A miracle.”
Daria’s lips almost twitched. Almost. “Keep your voice down,” she said, glancing toward the open cavern. Austra stepped closer, too close. Close enough that Daria felt heat gather beneath her skin.
“I missed your brooding,” Austra whispered.
Daria swallowed. “You’re mocking me.”
“A little,” Austra admitted. “But also… not.”
Daria didn’t lean in. She didn’t pull away either. When footsteps echoed down the tunnel, Austra brushed their shoulders lightly as she stepped aside. A stolen touch, hidden, perfect. Daria walked away without looking back. But she caught herself smiling at the stone wall like a fool.
Days later at lunch, the Priestess spread maps across the table, tracing alliance routes and fault-line weaknesses. “We strike the Queen where she is complacent,” the Priestess said. “Your last mission exposed how fragile her patrol structure is near the caldera shelf.”
Daria nodded. More confident now. She knew the terrain. She knew the Crosswinds’ strengths. She knew how to plan a strike that didn’t turn civilians into collateral. And for some reason she couldn’t name, clarity came easier with Austra in her life, like connection had made her sharper instead of soft.
Her mother tapped the map sharply. “Daria.”
Daria blinked. “Yes, Priestess.”
“You drifted.”
“No,” Daria said smoothly. “Just thinking through the strike angle.”
The Priestess hummed in approval. “Good. That’s why you lead.”
Daria did not mention that her “clarity” followed a night where Austra had held her like she was more than a weapon. Daria remained composed. The Priestess remained pleased. And the world stayed balanced on a blade’s edge.
Each night, Daria slipped into her quarters after long meetings and found Austra waiting, cross-legged on the bed, fingers tracing shapes in the blanket like she was drawing Daria’s path back to her.
“What did she want this time?” Austra asked one night, voice gentle. Daria crawled into her lap before she answered, because she wanted to.
“Strategy,” Daria murmured into the curve of Austra’s neck.
“And?”
“And… pressure.”
Austra’s hands smoothed down her spine. “On you?”
“Always.”
“Then let me be the opposite of that,” Austra whispered.
Daria didn’t admit she already was. Instead she kissed her, slow, deep, grateful. Daria melted into Austra and let her pull her under the blankets as she shed her clothes. Austra trailed soft kisses down her neck, and over her breasts, and across her abdomen as she drew lazy circles between her thighs. She floated on the softness of Austra’s lips trailing down her body, and lost herself in the heat of Austra’s mouth settling over her apex.
After Austra guided her gently and lovingly to her peak, Austra held her, fingers tracing the line of Daria’s spine like she were something cherished rather than sharpened.
Daria slept better. Steadier. More herself. And she wondered the next morning, quietly and fiercely, if the Priestess could see Daria hadn’t shed her “distraction,” that instead she’d folded it into her strength.
Austra- Guiding
Everything was starting to feel dangerously perfect. The dust had settled in the GPR, though whispers still bounced along the tunnels. Daria now had lunch with her mother nearly every day in the Priestess’s chambers. The Crosswinds moved like a single unit. Austra fell into step beside Daria without thinking. They slept in each other’s arms every night.
And Austra’s Spy Mask grew stronger. She downplayed the Crosswinds’ improved formation. She hid newly stabilized supply routes. She “forgot” to mention expanded patrol patterns. She reshaped every report until it couldn’t be used as a blade. She justified each omission with the same breathless refrain: I’m protecting them.
If the Queendom knew less, they couldn’t strike cleanly. If they didn’t see Daria’s brilliance, she stayed safer. If they believed the rebellion was disorganized, the squad stayed alive. She repeated it until the lie grew sturdy enough to live inside. But beneath the lies, guilt pooled like cooled magma. She pushed it down. Again. And again. One day she caught herself believing the story completely: that being a spy was the thing keeping the Crosswinds safe. And by extension…keeping Daria safe.
In the quiet stretches of the day, Austra found herself hoarding moments like contraband. Daria reaching for her hand in public, not accidentally anymore, not as an instinct she’d deny, but deliberately. Daria letting their shoulders touch when they walked. Letting their knees brush during strategy sessions. Letting Austra rest her head against her shoulder during rare quiet hours.
The squad noticed. Oh, they noticed. Mika asked loudly, “So whose bed do you sleep in, Oathsworn?” while Rill smirked into her teacup and Varn muttered, “About damn time.” Darvin offered Austra a subtle nod, like a blessing and a warning all at once. Austra nearly choked every time.
And Daria, who used to turn to stone whenever anyone implied anything, now blushed, ducked her head, and tried, and failed, to hide a smile.
It was unbearable. It was everything. And it made the weekly lies feel like swallowing glass.
Daria- Lightness
Daria woke before Austra one morning. For a moment she didn’t move. She lay there staring at the ceiling of her quarters, feeling the solid weight of Austra’s arm draped across her stomach. Austra slept curled close, breath warm against Daria’s shoulder, hair brushing Daria’s jaw in soft, uneven waves. It hit Daria all at once: She liked waking up like this. No…wanted it. Not pretending their connection didn’t exist. Not armoring herself back into stone every dawn.
For the first time since their fight weeks ago, since she’d snapped, since she’d grabbed Austra with both hands and admitted what she’d been running from, the truth felt simple. She didn’t want to hide anymore.
Daria looked down at Austra’s sleeping face. The faint bruise blooming on Austra’s collarbone made heat rise in Daria’s cheeks…not embarrassment. Memory. Honesty. The electric, terrifying relief of letting herself feel. Austra stirred, murmuring something unintelligible, then nestled closer. Daria’s breath caught. She brushed a stray strand of hair from Austra’s cheek with the back of her knuckles, gentler than she meant to be.
A thought surfaced, quiet, unguarded, absolute: She’s mine. Daria’s chest clenched. She corrected herself instantly, like correcting stance during drills. She’s with me. Not owned. Not claimed. Chosen. Shared. And Daria wanted that to remain true in daylight.
She left Austra sleeping, closed the door behind her, and headed to the mess hall. The Crosswinds were already at their table: Varn and Darvin with morning tea, Rill polishing her spear, Mika halfway through an aggressively large bowl of something steaming.
The moment Daria walked in, all four of them froze. Mika’s eyes went wide. Rill’s lips twitched like she’d been expecting this. Varn and Darvin exchanged a look, and Darvin lifted one eyebrow with the kind of devastating subtlety that should have been illegal. Daria pretended not to notice. She poured herself tea. It did not work.
Mika leaned in, eyes sparkling. “Soooo, Commander. How’s your morning?”
Daria didn’t flinch. “Standard.”
Rill hummed. “Mm. Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Daria sipped. “Yes.”
Darvin cleared his throat calmly. “You seem very relaxed today.”
Daria stared at him. “I always am relaxed after a night’s rest.”
Mika made a sound of pure vindication. “AHA!”
Rill clapped once. “There it is.”
Daria pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are not doing this.”
“Oh, we absolutely are,” Mika said, because he had never met a boundary he didn’t want to juggle. “Because you’re… smiling. A little. Like a tiny bit. But I saw it.”
“I don’t smile.”
“You just did.”
Daria set her tea down very, very slowly. “You’re imagining things.”
Darvin shook his head. “We are not.”
Rill added, deadpan, “It’s extremely noticeable.”
Daria’s ears burned. “Drop it.”
Then Mika broke fully. “OH MY GODS,” he shrieked. “SHE’S GLOWING.”
Daria froze. “I am not glowing.”
“You’re absolutely glowing,” Rill said, sounding far too pleased.
Darvin added, “Radiant.”
Rill nodded. “Luminous.”
Mika slammed his hands on the table. “SHE IS SUNBEAMING.”
Daria nearly choked on air. “MIKA.”
Mika pointed, delighted. “AHA! She didn’t deny it!”
Rill made a soft mmhmm of vindication.
Varn observed calmly, “Your posture is different.”
Daria stiffened. “What does that mean.”
“You look… relaxed,” Varn said.
Mika gasped. “DOMESTIC.”
Rill nearly spit out her drink.
Daria covered her face with both hands. “Stop analyzing me.”
“We’ve been analyzing you forever,” Rill said dryly. “You’re just less fun to provoke when you sleep regularly.”
Daria tried to glare. It came out more like a flustered squint. “I hate all of you,” she said.
“Lie,” Mika sang.
“Obviously,” Rill agreed.
Varn sipped his tea. “She’s actually fond of us.”
Daria muttered into her palms, “Shut up.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Soft. Familiar. Impossible not to recognize. The Crosswinds collectively perked up like predators scenting prey. Daria’s heart slammed once against her ribs. Austra stepped into the room, hair tousled, shirt slightly askew in a way that made it painfully obvious she had not slept in the barracks. Not once in six months.
The Crosswinds lost what remained of their composure. Mika nearly fell out of his chair. Darvin sat up straighter, practically glowing with vindication. Varn murmured, “Ah,” like he’d just solved a complicated theorem. Rill went still, bracing for impact.
Austra froze, staring at the four of them like they were wolves circling a baby deer. Then she saw Daria. And smiled, quietly, gently. Daria felt her lungs collapse. Austra cleared her throat. “Um. Good morning?”
The table erupted. Mika threw his arms in the air. “CONFIRMED!”
Rill stood and clapped Austra once on the shoulder. “Good choice.”
Darvin simply said, “About time.”
Mika pointed accusingly. “YOU.”
Austra blinked. “Me?”
“You did something to her,” Mika declared.
Austra glanced at Daria, startled. Daria glared at Mika.
Rill leaned her chin on her fist. “I would say the evidence is compelling.”
Austra opened her mouth. “We just—”
“Nope,” Daria cut in sharply. “We are not elaborating on anything.”
Mika grinned. “AHA again.”
Varn nodded sagely. “Twice-confirmed.”
Austra turned bright purple.
Daria didn’t break eye contact with her. “I’m killing all of you,” she said flatly.
“Better hurry,” Mika chirped. “You have a girlfriend to keep warm at night.”
Daria nearly flipped the table. Austra laughed, bright, delighted, unashamed. And Daria… felt something warm settle in her chest. Austra wasn’t panicking. She wasn’t retreating. She wasn’t hiding. Austra looked happy. Proud.
She crossed the room and sat beside Daria without hesitation. Their knees brushed. Daria did not move away. The squad saw it, the closeness, the comfort, the choice. Rill gave a subtle, approving nod. Varn smiled, barely, but enough. Mika clutched his heart like he was watching a love story at the theater.
Daria exhaled. “You are all insufferable.”
“Awwww,” Mika sang. Austra nudged Daria’s shoulder gently. Daria nudged back. And as the chatter resumed with Crosswinds chaos and squad affection, the soft pressure of Austra’s leg against hers settled her. Daria realized she didn’t mind being seen. Being teased. Being known. Being with Austra in daylight. She didn’t want the shadows anymore. She didn’t want secrecy and late-night escapes. She wanted this. Austra’s warmth beside her. Her squad’s ridiculous devotion. The terrifying, hopeful lightness in her chest. For the first time, Daria looked around the table at the Crosswinds, at her people, at the life she had somehow built, and felt a small glimmer of hope. Dangerous. Beautiful. Real.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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