FOrging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: July 9th, 2026
Approx. Length: 2.9k words
Content Note: 3x Hot
Daria- Onward
The weeks after Mika’s death blurred together into molten streaks of grief and responsibility. Daria rose before dawn every morning. If she didn’t, she wasn’t sure she would rise at all. She needed to be first awake. Last to sleep. Grief was allowed only in private. Her squad needed steadiness. So she became steady. She rebuilt routine. Slow drills. Then harder ones. She redistributed Mika’s responsibilities with calm precision. She absorbed anger. Held space for sorrow. When Rill broke during weapons forms, blade clattering, tears cutting clean lines through ash, Daria stepped in close.
“He loved how you moved,” Daria said. “He’d tell you to stop crying and try again.”
Rill let out a broken laugh. Picked up her blade. The squad followed.
The Priestess summoned her again. The ritual hall was dim, lit only by embers. The Priestess looked exhausted. Which made her more dangerous.
“Your squad survived,” she said. “They will rise stronger.”
Daria bowed. “We honor him through discipline.”
“Good. You will need it.”
Daria’s stomach tightened.
“The Torch Collective grows erratic,” the Priestess continued. “But their anger is useful.”
Daria stiffened. “Useful how?”
“With their help, we will finally strike the Queen.”
Daria’s pulse stumbled. “Mother, we don’t know if they can be controlled.”
“That is why you will control them.”
Heat crawled up Daria’s spine. If they refused. If they overreached. If this ignited a war Zephyra couldn’t ignore…
“Understood,” she said. The word tasted like ash.
The squad felt the shift. Daria drilled them harder. Kept them longer. Demanded sharper focus. Darvin tried to check in. Couldn’t reach her. And Austra…she moved like a ghost. Hands shaking when she thought no one saw. Eyes hollow when she stared at Mika’s empty bunk. Trying to be strong. Pulling away. That terrified Daria more than the Priestess ever had.
One night, Daria found Austra in the training cavern, striking a target post until blood streaked her knuckles.
“You’ll break your hands,” Daria said.
“Maybe if I break something,” Austra said, “the ache inside will shut up.”
Daria gently pulled her hands away. “You’re hurting.”
“So are you.”
“But you won’t talk to me.”
Austra froze. “I’m trying.”
“Try with me.”
Austra looked at her. Eyes glassy. Too wide. A confession hovered at the edge of her mouth. Then vanished.
“Come here,” Daria said.
Austra collapsed into her. They kissed. Slow. Searching. Then desperate. Just to stay alive inside their own skins.
“I can’t lose you,” Austra whispered.
“You won’t,” Daria said. Even though she no longer believed it.
That night, Austra guided her gently to the bed, hands warm, steady, grounding. Daria lay back as Austra kissed her stomach, her ribs, the curve of her waist, slow enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She tangled her fingers in Austra’s hair. “Austra,” she breathed. A plea. A prayer. Austra kissed her deeply, slowly sliding her thigh between Daria’s, supporting her, anchoring her. Daria’s breath hitched. She arched into her touch.
Austra murmured, “I’m right here. Always.”
Daria felt herself unravel, slowly, softly, completely. “I need you,” Daria whispered into her skin.
Austra kissed her hard, “I know,” she purred, then trailed kisses and nips down her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach, then settled in between her thighs. A soft moan escaped Daria’s lips, the image of Austra’s head in between her thighs would forever be imprinted into her mind. She writhed against Austra’s mouth as Austra’s fingers interlaced with hers, and she forgot everything that was not Austra claiming her.
Later, as they lay tangled together with sleep encroaching and the outside pressures returning, Daria whispered into the darkness, “Talk to me. Soon.”
Austra stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “I will,” she whispered.
And just for that night, she believed her. She lay on Austra’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, feeling safe.
Austra- Choosing
Weeks passed. The rebellion mourned. Daria led with quiet strength. Austra pretended she was pushing her guilt and grief somewhere it couldn’t reach her.
One evening, as the sun dipped behind the caldera and molten light bled into the cavern mouths, Austra caught Daria’s wrist and tugged her toward an empty corridor.
“Come with me.”
Daria frowned. “Where?”
“Just trust me.”
Trust never came easily to Daria; she hesitated. Then she nodded. Austra led her up a narrow stairway carved into an old exhaust shaft, emerging onto a high overlook where volcanic light shimmered against black stone like liquid gold. Heat rose in slow waves. A soft current of warm air threaded through the space, lifting loose strands of hair.
Austra turned, suddenly shy. She held out her hand. “Dance with me.”
Daria stared. “Dance.”
“Yes.” Austra wiggled her fingers, a flicker of playfulness she hadn’t shown since Mika. “We’ve fought together. Bled together. Slept together. But we haven’t danced yet.”
Daria’s lips twitched despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it.”
A barely-there flush touched Daria’s cheeks. She took Austra’s hand. Austra stepped closer, settling her hands at Daria’s waist, guiding her into slow, imperfect steps. At first, Daria moved stiffly, clearly overthinking every motion.
Then she exhaled. Her shoulders loosened. She let her forehead rest against Austra’s shoulder. They swayed. No rhythm. No structure. Just two bodies finding a shared center.
“You’re good at this,” Austra murmured.
Daria huffed softly. “No. I’m only good with you.”
The words landed like a quiet detonation. Austra kept them moving long after the light dimmed.
Later, Daria lay half-draped across her, sweat cooling on their skin, breath slow and uneven. It was the kind of night Austra wanted to carve into stone and hide from time. The kind of night that made her almost forget she was lying. Almost.
Austra traced the curve of Daria’s shoulder, memorizing the warmth, the strength, the softness only she was allowed to see. Everyone else knew the Commander. Austra knew the woman who collapsed into her arms. She shouldn’t jeopardize this. She shouldn’t ask questions. She shouldn’t open doors.
But the thought had been clawing at her ribs for days. “Daria?”
A content hum vibrated against Austra’s throat. “Mm?”
“What… what do you think happens after?”
Daria stilled. Austra felt it immediately.
“After the Queen is dead,” Austra added quickly. “I mean. What does the rebellion become?”
Silence stretched. Daria lifted her head. Golden eyes sharp even in low light. “Why are you asking?”
Austra forced herself to breathe. “Because we keep talking about what we’re destroying.” Her throat tightened. “I want to know what we’re building.”
A beat. Then Daria rolled onto her side, propping herself on one elbow.
“Honestly?” she said quietly. “I don’t know.”
Austra swallowed. “You don’t have… hopes?”
Daria looked away. “My mother wants everything to burn. The Queen. The court. The city.” A flicker of something dark crossed her face. “She thinks collapse is cleansing.”
Austra’s heartbeat stumbled. “And you?” Austra whispered.
Daria was quiet for a long moment. “I want a future where Pyronous isn’t treated like a wound that needs to be cauterized,” she said slowly. “Where Fire and Earth Genasi aren’t born into graves disguised as homes.”
Her voice shook. “But I don’t want endless war…and I don’t want the Collective deciding what replaces the Queen either.”
Austra’s shoulders loosened without her realizing they were tight. “So… no alliance.”
“For now?” Daria’s thumb brushed lightly along Austra’s waist. “We gather information. But binding ourselves to them would be volatile.”
“Bloodbath volatile,” Austra murmured.
“Yes.”
Austra hesitated. “What would you do differently?”
Daria’s hand stilled. “I’d try diplomacy first.” Her mouth curved into a small, fragile smile. “Before more names get carved into walls.”
Austra’s breath broke.
“Peace isn’t weakness,” Daria said softly. “It’s survival.”
Gods, she loved her.
“And you?” Daria asked. “What future do you want?”
Austra couldn’t tell the truth. Not the whole truth. So she chose the nearest truth she could survive saying. “I want a future where you don’t die.”
Daria inhaled sharply.
“I want a future where we are still possible.” Austra gestured between them. “Where the squad is alive. Where Pyronous doesn’t turn itself to ash.”
Daria searched her face. “And where are you in that future?”
Austra saw it instantly. Herself beside Daria. No divided loyalties. No chains. Just wind and flame.
“With you,” Austra whispered.
Daria blinked slowly. “Austra…”
“I’m choosing you,” Austra said, fierce and shaking. “Whatever comes next.”
It was true. Every impossible word of it. Daria kissed her. Soft. Stunned. Trembling. Austra kissed back, clinging to a future she desperately wanted to deserve. A future where the end goal wasn’t a throne. Wasn’t vengeance. Wasn’t conquest. A future where the end goal was them.
Daria- Soft
Daria woke first. Austra lay tangled in her arms, hair a mess, mouth parted slightly in sleep. A quiet smile tugged at Daria’s lips. She leaned down and kissed the corner of Austra’s mouth. Austra stirred.
“Morning,” Daria murmured.
Austra blinked. Then smiled, slow and wicked. “You’re staring.”
“Yes,” Daria said. “I enjoy the view.”
Austra made a pleased sound and pulled her into a lazy kiss. Daria indulged her, then she pulled back just enough to trail her mouth down Austra’s throat instead. Austra gasped softly.
“Daria…”
“Yes?” Daria asked, amused.
“You’re being…”
“Soft?” Daria supplied.
Austra froze. Then nodded, eyes searching hers. Daria kissed her again.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she whispered, trailing lazy sparks across Austra’s stomach. She didn’t want to put on her armor, or scheme with her mother, or try to patch the Mika-sized gap in the squad. She wanted to remain in this lightness with Austra forever.
She trailed lazy sparks across Austra’s stomach, making her giggle with dancing flickers tickling her sides. She savored the lightness in Austra’s laugh, the heat pooling in her core, and the devotion in Austra’s eyes. Her fingertips traced swirls in between Austra’s thighs, pulling a low and sweet sound from Austra’s throat. Their eyes locked, warmth spreading between them. Daria took in the sight of Austra sprawled beneath her, arching towards her with her hands between her thighs, and memorized the sounds she made only for her. Eyes still locked, lips inches away, Daria watched the micro shifts in her eyes as she slid her fingers inside Austra, and basked in the light that burned brighter in her eyes as she moaned Daria’s name.
Daria wanted to stay in this moment forever. She lingered as slowly as she could, drawing out every pulse and stroke to keep Austra writhing around her for as long as possible. Daria worshiped her breasts with her mouth, and when Austra’s fingers curled into Daria’s hair, she begged Daria for more. Pleaded for release. Daria almost said it, came the closest she’d ever come to whispering it into Austra’s ear…I love you. Just as she met her eyes, Austra peaked, moaning for her, pulling her closer, clinging to her. Daria held her, sprinkling soft kisses over her head, her neck, her chest. She basked in the rare lightness and tenderness that settled between them, unable to pull herself toward the dresser to get ready for training. At this point, she knew that they would be late, and she accepted the cost for a few more moments of softness.
Austra- SteEring
Every time Daria touched her, every time Daria let her guard slip, every time she whispered something soft or honest, Austra felt the noose of her secrets tighten. She wanted to confess. Every night. Every morning. Every time Daria smiled at her like she was safe. But Daria was healing. Opening. Letting herself want things again.
Austra was terrified that the truth would shatter that fragile progress. So she pressed her forehead to Daria’s shoulder while she slept and whispered soundlessly, I love you. Daria didn’t hear. But her arm tightened around Austra’s waist. Austra’s chest ached. She knew she was running out of time.
She spent mornings with the squad, laughing too loudly at Darvin’s dry humor, volunteering for extra rotations so Rill could step away when the grief hit too hard, forcing stability into her voice so Daria wouldn’t look at her with that worried crease between her brows.
She spent afternoons shadowing Daria through strategy sessions, easing the edge of Daria’s anger at the Priestess, redirecting conversations whenever “the Queen must fall” started to eclipse everything else.
She spent evenings tangled with Daria, holding her like a promise she was terrified to break. And late at night, when Daria slept draped over her waist, Austra stared at the cavern ceiling and ran frantic, silent calculations.
How do I sever myself from Zephyra without becoming prey? How do I keep the Priestess from turning the Collective into a weapon? How do I give Daria time? How do I convince her to choose diplomacy? How do I keep her alive when the truth comes out?
Every plan collapsed under its own weight. But one truth stayed solid: She could not keep serving the Queendom. Not really. Not anymore. Not when every path her mother wanted ended with Daria dead.
When report time came, Austra slipped into the old alcove near the lava vents and pulled the sending stone free. It was warm before she touched it. Hungry. She had always shaped narratives with omissions. Tonight, she pushed further.
Movement along the lower tunnels has shifted. Not toward Zephyra, or toward Queen-controlled holdings…Internal tensions among rebel factions are increasing. Priestess making… unpredictable choices. Collective presence complicating loyalty structures. Her throat tightened. Unclear who would lead if Priestess were removed.
That line burned. The stone pulsed. Austra kept going. Recommend patience from Zephyrian command. Aggressive intervention likely to strengthen extremist elements rather than weaken them. Truth bent into strategy. Long-term stability may emerge if moderate leaders gain influence organically. Meaning Daria. Her pulse thundered. I advise restraint.
The stone brightened. Sealed. Austra slid down the wall, breath shaking. She had not simply redirected the Queendom. She had pulled against it. She had chosen Daria. Chosen the Crosswinds. Chosen Pyronous. Chosen herself. It was the most terrifying thing she had ever done.
Over the following days, Austra moved like someone stitching fate together with bare hands. She sat beside Daria in strategy halls, gently steering discussions toward containment instead of confrontation. She whispered alternative pathways during sleepless nights, planting seeds she prayed would take root. She worked with Darvin on pattern analysis, nudging plans away from direct engagement.
She kissed Daria like love itself was a rebellion. Held her through nightmares. Laughed with the squad even when Mika’s empty bunk felt like a wound that wouldn’t close.
And still…She couldn’t tell Daria the truth. Not yet. But something had shifted. Fear no longer ruled alone. Hope had joined it. Hope for a future without war. Hope for a life where she wasn’t a weapon. Hope that Daria might still choose her after everything burned open.
Because she chose Daria. And she would keep choosing her. Even if the mountain roared.
Daria- Cracks
The days blurred. Training. Briefings. Collective intel. But in every spare second, Daria reached for Austra. A hand at her back. Fingers curling around her arm. A look across a crowded hall that meant, later. It was reckless. Unlike her. Grief had cracked something open. And Austra had slipped deeper inside.
The nights were frantic. Austra pulling her close like she needed Daria’s breath to stay upright. Daria kissing her like she was trying to hold Austra together. After one long day of planning new first-contact logistics, Daria shoved Austra back against the wall of her room and kissed her hard. Austra clung to her just as fiercely.
Later, tangled together, Daria whispered, “You’re somewhere else.”
Austra went still. “I’m here,” she said softly. “I’m with you.”
Daria felt the lie. Small. Shaking. Hidden. It terrified her.
The next day, the Priestess summoned her.
“You look tired,” her mother observed.
“I won’t let grief dull me,” Daria replied.
“We must move quickly. The Queen’s movements grow erratic.”
“Do you still intend to eliminate her?”
“Of course.”
Daria found herself thinking about futures. Not just endings. What came after the Queen. After retaliation. After the mountain finished tearing itself apart. What world was she actually building?
That night, Austra curled into her like she expected to be lost. Daria brushed fingers through her hair. “You’re hurting,” she whispered.
“I’m tired.”
“Tired isn’t this.”
Austra swallowed. “I’m trying.”
“But you’re hiding again.”
Silence. “I don’t want to lose you,” Austra said.
Daria closed her eyes. “Talk to me. Please.”
Austra didn’t.
Over the next few days, Daria watched carefully. Austra trained harder. Volunteered for dangerous routes. Asked strategy questions that sounded political, not tactical. Shaped conversations. And always came back to Daria at night, kissing her like she was trying to outrun something. Daria kissed her every time. But afterward, quiet pressed in.
Is she preparing to leave? To break? To save me from something?
Austra was here. Austra was choosing her. Austra was changing. Daria didn’t know if the shift was pulling her closer…or carrying her away. And losing Austra felt like losing gravity.
Austra- The Message
She had rehearsed a confession a hundred times. Not the whole truth. Not yet. Just the shape of it. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing Pyronous. I’m leaving Zephyra behind.
Every version felt wrong. Too small. Too dangerous. Too late. Because how did you tell someone: I was sent here to destroy everything you love. And how did you follow that with: But I don’t want to anymore.
Austra paced the empty barracks. “I can tell her,” she whispered. Tell her something. Her gaze fell to the pillow where Daria’s head had rested hours earlier.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Her fingers brushed the hidden pocket at her belt. The stone vibrated. Sharp. Insistent. Austra froze. The Queendom did not initiate contact. Ever. She drew the stone. Her mother’s voice filled her mind.
Austra, only her name. Your next instructions require direct conversation. Meet three nights from now at first bell. Red Ember Bar. Coordinates follow.
Heat burned the location into her memory. Silence. Austra sat slowly on the bed. In three nights, she would face High Commander Lavista. The woman who had made her. Who would know she was changing. Who would know she was choosing Daria. Choosing Daria had been terrifying before. Now it felt catastrophic. Austra covered her mouth with shaking hands.
How did she protect Daria from her mother? From the Queen? From the Priestess? From herself?
She stared at the empty doorway.
“I choose you,” she whispered into the dark.
And for the first time… she didn’t know if love would be enough.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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