FOrging Ash of the Beloved
Book One: Air and Ash and All We Lost
By Jesse Annette
Posted: July 23rd, 2026
Approx. Length: 6.8k words
Austra- Aftermath
Austra woke twisted in Daria’s arms, face tucked beneath her jaw, breath warm against her throat. Steady. Safe. Daria’s arm was wrapped around her waist, heavy even in sleep. Her breath stirred Austra’s hair with every slow exhale. Their legs were tangled, blotting out the chill of the cavern air. For one merciful second, Austra forgot.
Then memory slammed back into place. The orders. The countdown. The strike. The names on the list. The woman she would lose. It would have been so easy…too easy…to stay exactly like this. To pretend the edge wasn’t real. To pretend last night hadn’t been a warning disguised as devotion. Austra pressed a soft kiss to Daria’s collarbone. Felt Daria shift with a sleepy hum. Her heart split open.
She had said it last night. I love you. She had finally said it. And Daria had answered with hands. With mouth. With body. With ferocity and care and presence. No words. But everything else. Austra lifted her head just enough to see Daria’s face in the dim cavern light. The softness that sleep carved there. The faint slackening she only ever saw in private. This quiet, fragile peace was everything she had ever wanted.
And in three days, Zephyra would erase it. Austra’s chest tightened so hard she struggled to breathe through it.
Daria stirred awake, blinking. When her golden eyes found Austra, something soft flickered there. Daria arched an eyebrow, attempting a smirk. “Staring at me while I sleep? Creepy.”
“Desperate,” Austra said softly. “Not creepy.”
Daria’s arm tightened. “Desperate for what?”
For courage. For forgiveness. For a miracle that did not exist. “For you,” Austra whispered.
Daria’s breath hitched. Austra took a shaky breath. Time was gone. There was no way through except forward. Austra kissed her softly and lovingly, then deep and passionate. “Daria…” Austra sighed into her mouth, then kissed her neck in the spot that made her breath hitch, and locked eyes with Daria’s molten gaze. “I love you,” she whispered. And Daria shivered, visibly. Austra kissed her one last time, then laid her head back on Daria’s chest.
“I need to tell you something,” Austra said. “Something big. And you need to remember that I love you.”
Daria’s arms tightened around her. “Why does that sound like a farewell?”
Austra’s stomach twisted. She shifted to look up at her and brushed her thumb along Daria’s jaw, memorizing.
Daria frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Everything. Austra sat up, heart slamming, forcing herself to keep looking at Daria. “Before I say anything… I need you to believe me. I love you. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. And whatever comes next, please believe that.”
Daria sat up slowly. Suspicion slid into place like armor. “Don’t start with riddles,” Daria said.
“Please believe me. Last night wasn’t panic,” Austra pleaded, placing her hands on top of Daria’s. “It wasn’t desperation. It was truth. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to help you build peace more than anything in this world.”
Daria’s golden eyes sharppened, jaw set. “What did you do?”
“It’s not something I did,” Austra said hoarsely. “It’s something I was born into. Something I was forced into. Like you were forced into your role.”
“Say it,” Daria exhaled sharply. “You’re scaring me.”
Austra swallowed and felt tears burn. She pushed on, frantic. “Daria, you know better than anyone, we don’t get to choose the families we’re born into. We don’t get to choose our mothers or the paths they force on us. But we can choose who we become. We can choose who we stand beside. I’m choosing you.”
Daria inhaled sharply.
“Zephyra is planning an attack on the GPR.”
The room went dead silent.
“…What?”
“They strike in three days. Direct assault on the caverns.”
Daria was out of bed in a flash. “How do you know this? Where did you get that intel?”
Austra’s mouth went dry. “From my mother.”
Daria froze, then turned slowly as her voice dropped into something hollow. “Your mother is in Zephyra.”
Austra wrapped her arms around herself. “She’s Iliana Lavista.”
The name landed like a killing blow. Daria staggered. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“No…you would have told me.”
“I tried.”
“When?” Daria demanded. “Before or after you slept in my bed for a year? Before or after you touched me? Before or after you said you loved me?”
“I do love you!” Austra sobbed, crawling across the bed toward Daria.
“You…” Her voice was rough as she staggered back a step. “You laid in my bed. You touched me. You made promises. You kissed every inch of me. And the whole time… you were working for her?”
Austra reached for her. “I stopped. A long time ago. Daria, I fell in love with you,”
Daria jerked away and let out a sound, not quite a laugh, not quite a sob. It was broken. Rage and heartbreak fused into a single awful noise. “You loved me while spying on me?”
“No! I…She sent me here,” Austra said. “But I didn’t give her anything real. I protected you. I protected the Crosswinds.”
“No…” she whispered, shaking her head violently, pacing like a caged storm, eyes wild with betrayal.
“I didn’t choose it!” Austra’s voice broke open. “Just like you didn’t choose to be born into the Priestess’s line. Just like you didn’t choose the path your mother carved for you.”
“You slept in my bed and lied.”
“…Yes.”
“You held me and lied.”
“Yes.”
“And you said you loved me.”
“I do!”
Daria’s breath became ragged. “And all this time,” she choked, “you were reporting to Zephyra?”
“Yes,” Austra said hoarsely. “But never what mattered. I sent them things they already knew, useless details, I protected you. I protected the Crosswinds. I swear to you, Daria, I swear it on my life! You changed me” Austra begged, taking a small step toward Daria. “I choose you…I love you,”
Daria’s eyes shone with anger, hurt, fear, all of it igniting at once. “Don’t poison that word.”
Austra fell to her knees. “Let me help you take power, let me help us make peace. I want our future. I want the world you dream of.”
Daria stared as if stabbed, then pointed at her like she could set her aflame. “You came into my rebellion, into my SQUAD, into my BED—”
Austra’s heart stopped. “Daria…”
Daria hissed, shaking. “Tell me the rest of what you know. All of it. Now.”
“She ordered me to kill the Priestess,” Austra whispered.
Daria went very still.
“And you,” Austra forced out.
A small, broken sound slipped from Daria’s throat.
“And Darvin.”
Daria grabbed the wall.
“But I’m not doing it,” Austra said desperately. “I’m disobeying them. I’m never going back to Zephyra. I’m choosing you. I’m choosing to stay and fight for you. I’m telling you so we can prepare—”
“WE?” Daria roared. “There is no we!”
Daria slammed Austra into the wall as heat sparked at her knuckles. “Did you ever tell me the truth?” she snarled.
“Yes! The details were blurred but the important things were true, are still true! I love you…”
“DON’T LIE TO ME.” Flames erupted alonge Daria’s arms.
Austra forced herself forward. “I’m not lying now! I’ll give you all the details I have from them. I’m not doing want they want! I REFUSED—”
“You refused?” Daria snarled. “Is that supposed to make this BETTER? You betrayed me.”
“I’m telling you because I want to help you!”
Daria broke away from her, pacing across the room with smoke trailing behind her. “You should’ve told me a YEAR AGO.”
“I was afraid,” Austra’s voice broke.
“You should have told me before you touched me.”
“I didn’t know how.”
“You should have told me before you said you loved me.”
“I DO LOVE YOU!”
“SHUT UP.” Flames crawled up Daria’s back. “You don’t get to use love like a bandage!”
Daria slammed the wall behind Austra again, forearm pressing against her collarbone, pinning her. Austra gasped at the pressure. Daria’s breath was ragged, her skin glowing dangerously hot. Her hair crackled with static. Her eyes were molten gold. Small rivulets of flame skimmed across her body. Austra felt like she was staring into the heart of a volcano. Daria shoved her harder, voice dropping to something terrifying.
“Would you have done it? If you hadn’t fallen for me?”
“I never would have touched you,” Austra sobbed. “I never would have hurt you.”
Daria laughed, broken and cruel, as she stormed away from Austra and across the room. “You’ve been hurting me for sixteen months.”
Austra sobbed, taking a step toward her. “Daria…”
“NO.” Daria’s voice thundered as she whirled to face Austra. “No more. Tell me why I should trust you.”
“Because I want peace,” Austra gasped. “You want peace too, you said so, you told me…”
“STOP USING MY WORDS AGAINST ME.”
“I’m not, I swear, I’m telling you because I think we can turn this. Let Zephyra take out the Priestess, we take out Zephyra’s soldiers, you and Darvin take over the GPR—”
“You want me to let ZYPHERA kill my MOTHER?” Daria’s voice cracked violently. “You want me to team up with YOU after YOU were sent here to KILL ME?”
Austra reached out desperately. “I’m choosing you! I’m not going back to Zephyra, I renounce them, I’ll help you take leadership. I’ll help you build peace! I love you…I don’t want to lose you…”
Daria exploded. A roar tore from her chest, raw, guttural, volcanic. Light flared around her hands. The temperature of the room spiked. The air trembled.
Austra sobbed. “I’m telling you now. Please trust me…”
“IT’S TOO LATE!” Daria’s whole body shook with rage. “You want me to trust you? To listen to your brilliant idea that we let Zephyra kill my mother so you can put me on the throne of the GPR? YOU?”
Austra’s voice shredded. “I want peace! I want you to lead us away from bloodshed, I want to help you, I want—”
Daria shoved her, hard. “You want to use me! Just like Zephyra used you!”
Austra grabbed Daria’s wrists. “No. No. I love you. I’m choosing you.”
Daria’s voice dropped to a trembling whisper as she staggered back. “How dare you say you love me.”
Austra broke completely, dropping to her knees. “Because it’s true,” she sobbed. “Because I do. Helplessly. Foolishly. Thankfully. I love you so much it hurts to breathe without you.”
Daria stared at her. Eyes blazing. Eyes breaking. And then, her face hardened. “You’ve been lying since the day we met.”
“I was trapped…I didn’t know how to tell you…”
“And you expect me to LOVE you after this?”
Austra choked, “I hope.”
Daria inhaled sharply. Her jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped. Daria stared at her, shaking with fury.
Austra stood and stepped closer, terrified, hopeful, broken. “You and Darvin can take control. You can lead us to diplomacy. You can end the cycle. You can save Pyronous.” Daria’s chest heaved.
“You want me to let Zephyra kill my mother,” she said, voice dangerously calm. “And you want me to trust the girl who was sent here to kill me?”
Austra felt her world tilt. “Daria…”
“No.” Daria’s voice broke, raw and wounded. “No more. You lied for sixteen months. You slept beside me for sixteen months. You loved me—”
“I still do,” Austra whispered.
“SHUT UP.” The roar of it shook Austra to her bones. Daria’s breath tore out of her. Her hands shook. Her eyes blazed with a fury Austra had never seen pointed at her before. “How dare you,” Daria whispered. “How dare you ask me to choose diplomacy with a Queendom that sent you to kill me? You just want to FIX what you BROKE,” Daria snapped, flames crackling around her fists.
Austra reached a trembling hand out. “I’m giving you everything, I’m choosing you. We don’t have to be trapped by the roles we were born into. You don’t have to be the heir of a war. I don’t have to be my mother’s weapon. We can be something else. Something of our own choosing. We can run, if you want, or we can stay and fix this world together.” Her voice cracked with tenderness she couldn’t contain. “Daria… you love me. I know you do. You’ve shown me. You’ve—”
Daria jerked back like she’d been slapped. “GET OUT!”
But she didn’t mean it yet, not fully. Austra knew her too well. This was rage, not decision. Austra stepped forward once more, voice trembling. “Daria, please…we can still have something, we can still fix this, we can still—”
“DON’T YOU DARE COME CLOSER.”
Austra froze. Daria’s hands were shaking violently, fire flaring at her fingertips, the unstable crack before an eruption.
“You lied,” Daria whispered, voice breaking in half. “You lied about everything. Your past, your purpose, your mother, your mission. EVERYTHING.”
Austra sobbed openly. “Not the important parts—”
“THE IMPORTANT PARTS?” Daria laughed, hysterical, devastated. “The important part is that you were SENT HERE TO DESTROY MY FAMILY AND YOU SLEPT BESIDE ME WHILE DOING IT.”
Austra’s whole body shook. “Daria, please—”
“Get out before I lose control!”
Austra stepped closer, “Daria…I love you.”
Daria squeezed her eyes shut, tears spilling despite her fury. Then she looked at Austra one final time… and whispered, trembling, “Get. Out.” More quietly. More deadly.
Austra reached for her. Daria stepped back like touched by electricity. “Get out, Austra. Now.”
Austra’s vision blurred. She still tried. “Daria, please, don’t let this be the end…not when I’m choosing—”
“GET. OUT.” The roar shook the room.
Austra stumbled back. Then turned. Then walked. Because she had no air left, no arguments left, no hope left. Behind her, Daria’s breath hitched, soundless, strangled. Austra reached the doorway.
“Austra,” Daria said softly.
She turned, heart in her throat, hope flared…But Daria didn’t look at her. She was staring at the ground, trembling. “Don’t come back.”
Austra broke. She fled before Daria could hear her sob. Austra’s heart was in tatters as every plan she’d made was burning in her hands. Austra had no idea how to fix it. And the world, her world, collapsed behind her as she ran. Behind her, she heard something… A sob. A scream. A sound like a heart cracking down the center. She didn’t look back. Because if she did, she’d never leave. She’d run back into the fire and die there willingly.
Daria- Betrayel
The door shut behind Austra with a soft, final click. Daria didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. The room felt hollowed out, as if something vital had been torn from it…torn from her…and left nothing but ringing silence behind. For one suspended heartbeat, she stood perfectly still.
Then her knees buckled. A sound tore out of her before she could stop it, half sob, half scream. She caught herself on the edge of the bed, fingers clawing into the mattress where Austra had been only minutes ago. The sheets were still warm. Still smelled like her. Wind and citrus and something faintly sweet, a scent Daria woke up wrapped in every morning. The warmth shattered her. A sharp, broken sound slipped out of her throat, small and humiliating.
“Damn you,” she whispered. She dragged both hands over her face, but her shoulders shook anyway. Fire flickered down her arms in short, uncontrolled bursts, sparks snapping against stone as she tried, and failed, to swallow the sob climbing up her chest.
Daria slammed her fist into the floor. Stone cracked beneath her knuckles. She screamed at the empty room, at the stone, at herself. Her fire surged, roaring up her arms, scorching the mattress, rattling lanterns against their hooks. She staggered to her feet and began to pace, unable to stay still, too full of fury and grief and something far worse than either. She paced like a caged thing, breath ragged, hair wild.
“I trusted you,” she spat into the void. “I trusted you more than anyone.” A lantern shattered against the wall. She didn’t flinch.
“You slept in my bed,” she continued, voice breaking apart. “You touched me. You looked at me like…” Her breath hitched hard. “Don’t you dare have meant it,” she whispered, as if Austra were still there. “Don’t you dare have loved me while lying to me.”
Her chest seized. She folded in on herself, gripping her ribs as if she could hold her heart in place. Because she knew. Austra hadn’t lied like that. Not with her eyes. Not with her hands. Not with the way she pressed trembling breaths into Daria’s throat at night. Not with the care, the reverence, the way she touched Daria like she was precious. Singular.
That was the worst part. Austra had loved her. And had done it while lying. While betraying her. While being someone Daria hadn’t even known existed. Daria pressed her forehead to the wall, breath hitching violently.
“She loved me,” she whispered, hating herself for hearing the truth in it. “Gods, she did.” Her stomach twisted. “And she still betrayed me.” Tears spilled at last, hot, unwanted, infuriating. She wiped them away with the heel of her palm, furious at herself for crying, furious at Austra for making her cry, furious at the universe for letting this be real.
Only hours ago, Austra had whispered, I love you. And gods help her, Daria loved her too. She wanted it to be a lie. Wanted it to be manipulation, something clean she could sever. But her body betrayed her with memory after memory: Austra kissing her slow after missions when Daria could barely stand. Austra holding her shaking hands after nightmares. Austra laughing softly in the tunnels. Austra whispering her name with adoration at night. Austra looking at her like she was the entire damn sky. Real love. Knotted together with real deceit. Daria slammed both fists into the wall. Stone split outward in a spiderweb of cracks.
“I can’t hate you,” she whispered, the words tasted like blood. “I want to. I should. But I can’t.”
Her fire rippled wildly across her skin. She dropped to her knees, arms wrapping around herself, rocking once, just once, before she caught the motion and forced herself still.
“I love her,” she whispered. The confession tore out of her like it reopened the wound. Another sob broke free, deep and gutted. She pressed her hand over her mouth until it passed.
A long, shuddering minute later, Daria forced herself to breathe. Forced the fire down. Forced her spine straight. Because the pain was unbearable, but she was still Daria Cross. She had a rebellion to protect. A city to defend. A mother growing more dangerous by the day. Austra’s truth had shattered something inside her that she did not have time to mend.
So she wiped her face with shaking hands and stood. She would tell Darvin about the attack. She would secure the caverns. She would prepare for Zephyra’s soldiers. She would face the Priestess. She would lead the Crosswinds. And she would not let Austra’s love, or her own, be the thing that destroyed her. Even if her heart cracked open with every step she took.
Austra- Broken
She did not remember leaving Daria’s room. She did not remember turning corners. Did not remember breathing. All she remembered was the sound of it, the way Daria’s voice had cracked, the way the door had shut, soft and final, sealing something behind her forever. The echo followed her down the corridor like a curse. Like a prophecy. Like the last reverberation of the only home she had ever chosen.
Her legs carried her on instinct. Fast. Blind. Shaking. She didn’t know where she was going. Only that she couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she would break open. Or burn down to nothing. Or collapse into ash so fine it couldn’t even hold a shape anymore.
Get out. Don’t come back.
The words looped until her thoughts frayed. She stumbled into the barracks…her barracks…her squad’s…and stopped so abruptly she nearly pitched forward.
Everything looked wrong. The bunks. The gear racks. The worn blankets Mika had always straightened. Darvin’s carefully ordered piles. Varn’s scattered knives. Rill’s books stacked too neatly to be accidental. And Mika’s half-finished wind-charm, still sitting on his nightstand like he might come back and finish it.
Austra stared at it. The barracks no longer recognized her. Or maybe she no longer recognized herself. Her chest constricted. Folded inward. Shattered. She clapped a hand over her mouth to smother the sound clawing its way up her throat.
I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost her.
Her knees buckled. She caught herself on Mika’s empty bunk. Cold. Gone. Just like she was about to be. A sob punched out of her, silent but violent, and she folded over the mattress, gripping the blanket like it could anchor her to something solid. For one fragile moment, she wanted to stay there and disappear. For another, she wanted to run back to Daria and beg. For another, she wanted to burn the sending stone and pretend none of this was real.
But Daria’s voice cut through all of it. You betrayed me. Get out. Don’t come back.
Austra forced herself upright. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t unravel. She had to do something. Protect them, Daria, Darvin, the squad, because even shattered, even hollowed out, she still loved them more than she loved her own breath.
She pried loose the brick she’d hidden the envelope from Zephyra behind and crossed to Rill’s desk, hands shaking as she tore through drawers until she found parchment and charcoal. Her fingers trembled so hard she nearly snapped the stylus.
She wrote anyway. Fast. Messy. Desperate. She wrote everything: troop numbers, entry points, the two-pronged assault, timing, fallback routes, Zephyrian command structure, her mother’s involvement, the explicit order to assassinate the Cross line. She wrote tactical flaws. Weak points. Anything Daria could use. Anything that might keep the GPR alive. Her handwriting slanted and collapsed. Tears smeared the charcoal into gray blots.
When she reached the end, her hand didn’t stop. Below the last jagged line, she wrote: Daria, I love you. I’m sorry. Her breath hitched on the final word.
She folded the papers around the envelope and scrawled on the front, uneven and urgent:
For Daria Cross. Only her.
Her fingers brushed the sending stone at her belt. It pulsed faintly, obedient. Loyal. To the wrong side. She thought of Daria’s face the last time she said I love you…the horror, the fury, the grief, and beneath it all the shattered flicker of love that made everything hurt worse. A sob tore out of her chest. She hurled the sending stone across the barracks. It struck the wall, sparked once, and went dead. She didn’t give herself time to regret it.
Austra shoved the papers beneath Rill’s pillow. Daria always checked on Rill first when something felt wrong. She took one last look at the room. At her squad. Her friends. Her home.
She pocketed the Crosswinds token Mika had given her and palmed the ash forged dagger. Then she ran as tears streamed down her cheeks. Out of the barracks. Through the common quarters. Into the western tunnels. Into the dark. Her heart screamed with every step, replaying Daria’s final words.
Don’t come back.
She didn’t look behind her. If she did, she would turn around. And Austra Lavista, traitor, spy, lover, fool, did not have the luxury of breaking anymore. She was already broken.
Daria- Ash
She did not mention Austra to anyone. Not her name. Not her absence. Not the envelope of Zephyrian war plans she found beneath Rill’s pillow later that morning when it became clear Austra had run. It was addressed to her, the handwriting jagged, the folds stained with tears Daria refused to picture. She read it once. Only once. Then she folded it again and slid it into her jacket. A poison. A prayer. She did not know which.
She did not speak of it. Did not flinch when her fingers brushed the pocket where it rested. The Crosswinds knew something was wrong, of course they did. Rill hovered. Varn watched her in silence. Darvin stayed close enough to catch her when she stopped breathing properly during briefings. No one asked.
Daria’s face said: Not yet. Not this.
So they followed her instead. Trained. Planned. Ran contingencies until the hours blurred. Grieved Mika in the quiet spaces between alarms. And Daria grieved Austra in every moment she wasn’t looking directly at someone else.
Where had she gone? How far could she have run? Was she hiding? Hurt? Alive? Daria did not ask out loud. Asking would mean naming what Austra had done. And what Daria had done in return.
Instead, the questions burned holes through her. Had Austra packed? Had she looked back? Had she expected Daria to follow? Had she wanted her to? Did she want to come back?
And always, always, the final, unbearable truth: She loved me. She said she loved me. And she left. Because I told her to. Because she thought I meant it.
Daria scrubbed a hand over her face, trying to erase the memory of Austra in her bed, whispering I love you with a voice that shook like it might splinter. She had meant it. Daria knew she had. Which made it worse.
She remembered the devastation in Austra’s eyes when she screamed at her, devastation she had put there, and nausea rolled through her. She braced herself against the wall, breathing until the dizziness passed. Not now. She couldn’t break now. She had an attack to prepare for. A rebellion to shield. A mother to outmaneuver. A city to keep alive. She could not break.
That first night, when the Crosswinds finally slept, Daria climbed into her bed and reached instinctively for the other side. Her hand met cold sheets. She froze.
Then she curled inward and cried, silent, violent sobs she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t slept alone in over a year. Not since the night Austra slipped into her bed like it was inevitable, and Daria, against every rule she lived by, had let her stay. Now the bed felt like a coffin. Cold. Empty. Wrong.
Daria buried her face in the pillow and cried until her throat burned and her chest ached and her body shook with it. She cried because Austra betrayed her. She cried because Austra loved her. She cried because she loved Austra… longer than she’d admitted, deeper than she’d understood. And now there was nothing left but ash.
Austra- Running
Austra did not know how long she ran after leaving the barracks. Minutes. Hours. Days. Time dissolved somewhere between Daria’s scream and the moment Austra collapsed against the wall of an outer tunnel, gasping like she had outrun death itself. Maybe she had. Her palms scraped raw against volcanic stone as she slid down, barely registering the pain. Her ears still rang with the sound of Daria’s voice.
Get out. Don’t come back.
And beneath it, gods, beneath it, the sound that came after. That strangled, broken sound from inside Daria’s room. The sound of someone shattering in private. It followed her. Haunted her. Hunted her. Austra pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to smother the sob tearing up her chest. It didn’t work. The grief was too vast. Too sharp. Too sudden and final. It cut through her like a blade that had never been meant to be removed. She forced herself upright and kept moving, because stopping felt like dying.
The tunnels narrowed and dipped, twisting through old layers of cooled lava. Her footsteps echoed strangely, as if her heart were beating inside the stone itself. She had no plan. No destination. No strategy. Only distance. Only escape. Because Daria had told her to leave. Because she could not face the Crosswinds. Because everything she had ever known had turned to ash in a single morning.
And yet every step away from them hurt. I shouldn’t be leaving. I should be warning them again. I should be fighting beside them. I should be dying beside them.
Her chest seized. I should be with her.
She stumbled into a cavern where old smuggler routes branched like a spiderweb of scars. She recognized it instantly. She had trained here with Daria once…Daria’s hand warm at her lower back as she guided her through the dark, Daria’s breath brushing her cheek as she corrected her stance.
Austra swallowed a sob. Don’t do this. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about last night. Don’t think about her face when you told her everything.
Her mind did not listen. Daria was everywhere, in the flicker of torchlight, in the angle of shadow, in the echo of a memory where they had kissed breathlessly after sparring, sweat and laughter and fire between them.
You betrayed me, Daria had whispered. But her eyes, gods, her eyes had still held love in the cracks. Austra collapsed to her knees.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the empty cavern. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She forced herself forward again, wiping her face with the back of her hand, breath coming in short, broken bursts.
Eventually, she reached the hidden cliffside exit she had once used after a scouting mission. A narrow path overlooked a lattice of catwalks and trade platforms far below. And there…Zephyrian scouts…they moved in controlled formation, quiet and efficient, checking compasses, signaling to one another with subtle wind pulses. Charting. Measuring. Advancing. Austra’s breath caught. It’s starting.
Cold terror seized her whole body. Daria. Darvin. Rill. Varn. Her squad. Her family. Her heart. She wanted to run back. Wanted to throw herself between them and Zephyra’s blades. Wanted to find Daria, drop to her knees, beg forgiveness, tell her everything again, slower, gentler, better. Tell her she was choosing her. Choosing them. Choosing peace. But Daria’s voice burned through her. Get out. Don’t come back.
Austra forced herself onward, teeth clenched until her jaw ached. Daria didn’t want her. Daria didn’t trust her. Daria wouldn’t listen. Daria would take her down on sight. She followed an old ventilation shaft to a forgotten exit near the lower markets of Pyronous, slipping through back alleys with her hood low, avoiding uniforms and curious eyes, moving like a ghost through the city.
Her legs nearly buckled when she saw the merchant ship docking. She didn’t think. Didn’t plan. She bribed one of the crew with one of the last coin she had, slipped onto the cargo deck, and hid among crates of spices and forged tools. When the ship lifted, the sudden release of tension almost made her collapse.
Wind rushed beneath the hull. Pyronous shrank. The volcano’s glow dimmed. The familiar floating citadels of Zephyra retreated into the distance. Austra pressed her forehead to her knees, shaking violently. I’m really leaving. I’m leaving her. Tears soaked into her clothes as she whispered into the cold air, voice barely holding together.
“Please. Please keep them alive. Please…anyone…gods…keep the Crosswinds safe.” Her hands trembled as she pressed her palms together. “Keep Rill safe. Keep Varn safe. Keep Darvin safe.” Her voice broke completely. “Keep her safe. Please. Keep Daria alive. I don’t… I don’t know how to live in a world where she isn’t.”
The ship lurched as it gained altitude. Austra clung to a rope, dizzy, hollow. She could still hear Daria. Get out before I lose control. Don’t come back.
She had heard the exact moment Daria’s heart broke. That sound in the hallway. The worst sound she had ever heard in her life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the wind, voice splitting. “I’m so sorry, Daria.”
The ship turned east, away from volcano fire and floating citadels and everything Austra had come to love. She curled into herself, gripping the rope like it was the last thread tethering her to the world. As the airship carried her toward lands she did not want, she wept until there was nothing left. And when the sobs finally faded, she whispered one last prayer into the night: “Let her live. Let all of them live. Let her burn bright and fierce and angry and safe. Even if she never forgives me.”
The wind carried her words away. She did not look back. Because if she did, she would leap from the ship and run straight into the fire she had been told never to return to. And Austra was not sure she would survive being shattered like that twice.
Daria- Chasm
For three nights, she broke. In the training hall, long after everyone had gone, when the echoes of her own strikes came back wrong and hollow. In the old storage cavern where Mika used to hide pranked supplies, her breath stuttering as she pressed her forehead to cold stone and whispered his name like it might answer. In the shower, gripping the wall so hard her knuckles split, blood diluted and rinsed away before anyone could see.
And when morning came, she put her armor back on. She barked orders. Corrected stances. Approved patrol rotations. Planned defenses. Prepared the GPR to survive the coming attack. Everyone looked to her. No one asked about Austra. And she did not offer. But the letter burned in her jacket. Every time her fingers brushed it, deliberately or by accident, she heard Austra’s voice: I love you. I’m sorry. And it was agony. Because she believed it. Gods help her, she believed Austra had loved her. And that truth was the sharpest weapon of all.
The three days after Austra ran blurred into one long, punishing march toward war. Daria did not sleep. Did not eat more than a few forced bites when Darvin shoved food into her hands without comment. Did not speak unless she had to. She gave orders. Mapped fallback routes. Redesigned choke points. Worked the squad until they shook with exhaustion. Coordinated evacuation drills. Filed reports to the Priestess. Argued tactical positioning with her mother behind closed doors, voice steady, spine straight, fire leashed tight. By all appearances, Daria Cross was every inch the commander she had been raised to be. Inside, there was only dust. And a screaming silence she refused to acknowledge.
On the final night before Zephyra’s attack, Daria sat alone in her quarters with the letter that had haunted her for three days. It lay open on the desk like a wound. The edges were worn soft. The ink was smudged by tears she despised herself for shedding. A single lantern flickered beside her, flame trembling in quiet sympathy with the fine shake in her hands. She reread the last line again.
I love you. I’m sorry.
Gods. That pairing was poison. She did not know which part cut deeper, the love or the apology. Both felt like blades slid carefully between her ribs. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and breathed out, slow and controlled. She did not want to feel. Did not want to remember.
Memory came anyway. She had always been suspicious of Austra. She had appeared in the Pyronous markets with too-clean footwork and instincts that didn’t belong to someone scraping by. She moved like someone trained, not someone surviving. Daria remembered tracking her through back alleys, noting the way Austra scanned perimeters, catalogued exits, marked guards. The way she handled a blade with unconscious familiarity. She’s either fresh off a noble’s leash, Daria had muttered, or a spy.
She had kept her distance. Tested her. Pushed her harder than anyone else during initiations. Spies were predictable: disciplined, cold, hollow. Skilled without heart. Then Austra had smiled at her during their first spar, really smiled, eyes bright with wind-magic and trouble. And Daria’s caution had faltered.
“Trouble,” she had muttered under her breath. She had meant it. Just not in the way she thought.
Suspicion had become irritation. Irritation had become fascination. Fascination had turned into something she refused to name. Austra was too warm. Too alive. Too determined to crack her open. She flirted during drills, did her stupid finger guns and mock salutes, hummed off-key during cooldowns, winked during strategy sessions, whispered easy, Commander when Daria was anything but.
None of it fit the shape of a spy. And gods help her, Daria had fallen anyway. In infuriating, incremental failures: the first time Austra stole her gloves. The first time she kissed Daria like she knew all her fire and didn’t fear it. The first time she held Daria through a nightmare. The first time she looked at her not like the Priestess’s heir, but like a woman worth choosing. Daria had let herself soften. Had let herself trust. And then the truth cracked everything open.
Now, alone with the letter, the old suspicions echoed back…spy, danger, deception…but they no longer fit cleanly. Austra had lied. Yes. Hidden everything. Yes. Been trained to deceive. Yes. But Austra had also cried and fallen apart when Mika died. Fought for Daria’s life at every turn. Pushed for peace. Steered her away from bloodshed. Given the GPR everything they needed to survive the attack. Said I love you like it was tearing her apart. Spies did not do that. Spies did not love like that.
Daria hated that she knew it. Hated that she could feel the truth like a bruise she kept pressing just to confirm it still hurt. Her memories of Austra had become weapons, each one sharp, each one cutting deeper the harder she tried to set them aside. She dropped her head into her hands and exhaled a sound that was not quite a sob, not quite steady.
She missed her. Gods, she missed her. She missed waking tangled together. Missed Austra’s cold feet. Missed the whisper of I’m here, Daria breathed into her neck. Missed the version of herself who was not split between love and fury, between truth and betrayal. She missed the woman she had been before love felt like dying.
The ache spread beneath her sternum, molten and relentless. She pressed a palm to her ribs, holding herself together by force of will. How could her instincts have been right, and still feel this wrong? Austra had been a spy. Her instincts had not failed her. And yet Austra had been the woman who held her through grief, softened her fire, fought for peace, fought for Mika, fought, gods help her, for her.
Daria stared at the letter again. Why would a Zephyrian agent hand over war plans? Why risk everything to warn them? Why say I love you that morning like it was a final confession?
Her eyes burned. She closed them, tears slipping free despite herself.
“I miss who I used to be,” she whispered into the dark. Before Austra. Before peace felt possible. Before love felt like a blade turned inward. She pressed the letter to her chest and let a sob break free. “I regret you all the time,” she whispered, and the words shattered her as she said them. Because she did not. Not truly. Not even now. Austra had left her with something she could not kill: a truth that refused to die. She still loved her. Gods help her, she still did.
The mountain groaned beneath the catacombs. An omen. A countdown. Daria folded the letter with trembling care and slid it beneath her pillow.
She had been lied to before by defectors, infiltrators, zealots, nobles desperate to save themselves. But she had never been lied to by someone she loved. And she had loved Austra. She knew that now with brutal clarity. Loved her banter. Loved her strength. Loved her stupid jokes and finger guns. Loved the way she fought. Loved the way she kissed. Loved the way she said Daria like it mattered. She had cracked herself open. And Austra had walked in carrying a knife.
Tomorrow, she would lead. Tomorrow, she would face Zephyra. Tomorrow, she would survive if she could. But tonight…tonight, she broke. For Mika. For the Crosswinds. For the woman she had been. For the future she feared. For the spy who had never felt like a spy in her arms.
“For gods’ sake,” she whispered into the empty room, voice splitting, “I did love you. I think I still do.”
The mountain rumbled again. And the chasm inside her widened.
© 2026 Jesse Annette. All rights reserved.
Forging Ash of the Beloved 
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