"The Dawn that Rose from Fire"

Day 27 of Novel November- They plan what happens next

Peering over the rail, Alenyah saw chaos below. Foxran and Seth seemed to have unloaded the contents of every pack and were taking inventory of the supplies. Of what remained, Sera appeared to be selecting what she would be taking as payment. Items covered the tables, bedrolls, jerky, tin cups, rope and clothing. It seemed Sera and Foxran were arguing over what or how much she could take. Althea banged around in the kitchen, and Tavren was reading one of Berin’s books at the one empty table. Kaelen leaned with one arm propped against the brick fireplace. His broad back was to them as he stared into the flames.

Alenyah desperately wanted some water, and she swallowed dryly. Berin waited for her to nudge him before he began to guide them towards the stairs. The wood groaned under their feet, and Seth looked up. His face broke into a grin, and he stood, leaving Foxran and Sera to their bickering.

“She’s awake!” He almost sing songed trotting for the base of the stairs. “Need a hand?”

“Probably,” Berin said, as he and the Fey’ri were close in size. She got the impression he was nervous about losing his grip on her and dumping her down the steps. Tavren was standing, a small smile crossing their lips as Kaelen turned from the hearth, brow furrowed. Seth pounded up the stairs and looped her other over his shoulder. He was a lot taller than the pair of them, so Alenyah hissed in pain as she was lifted into a lopsided carry.

“Ugh,” Tavren headed over. “Just carry her, rocks for brains.” Berin released Alenyah, and Seth swung her carefully into his arms, heading for the same winged armchair by the fire. A few benches and stools had been pulled closer as well, creating a haphazard semi circle. As he placed her delicately on the threadbare cushions, her gaze drew to Kaelen’s, face inscrutable and hands fisted.

Rather than eating at the table, Althea entered with a tray, this time with bread and some kind of preserves along with salted ham. Alenyah blinked in surprise as everyone gathered in front of the hearth. Foxran tossed a cushion onto the floor and leaned against one side of the hearth. Tavren and Althea sat on the bench, and Berin and Seth took stools. Kaelen scanned the space, and she pushed her palms onto the arms of the chair starting to rise.

“I can sit on the-”

“You had better not be about to say the floor.” He interrupted, hand raised. For the first time, she noticed the silver also streaked through the creases of his palm and glowed softly in the firelight. She flushed, as he strode past her. A dragging sound met her ears as he pushed another dusty armchair, which had been hidden in the corner, to the fireside. When he sat, his weight pushed clouds of dust into the air. Althea waved one hand reproachfully, and Alenyah felt her heart ease the barest amount at Kaelen shot the Rhea an embarassed grin.

Seth leaned back on his stool, eyeing Sera who was still investigating their goods.

“You coming to eat?” He called. She shrugged and wandered over, pulling a bench one handed behind her.

The bread was warm and fresh, even if the ham and preserves were not. After all the stress and pain of the last few days, Alenyah was ravenous. She devoured multiple pieces, and as the food ran low, she still felt empty. Someone’s gaze was burning on her face, and she turned, already know she would find Kaelen’s amber eyes. On his plate, he held more bread and ham. Her eyes flicked down wistfully, and he wordlessly extended the plate towards her.

“Oh, I can’t-”

He didn’t even bother to listen to her finish. The Stoneborn let the plate drop over her lap, and she had to snatch to catch it. Those gold eyes gave a knowing wink before turning away towards the others who were eating in a greedy silence.

When the food dwindled to crumbs and sticky smears of preserves, conversation finally crept in. Tavren closed Berin’s book over one finger and glanced toward Sera.

“So,” they said, “Ashfall Pass. You’ve crossed it more recently than any of us. What are we walking into?”

Sera wiped her fingers on her trousers, leaned back on the bench, and exhaled through her teeth. “Well. A hundred years ago it was just bad footing and the occasional avalanche.” Her eyes flicked to Alenyah. “You remember what it was like, yeah?”

Alenyah nodded once, throat still raw. “Steep. Narrow. But passable.”

“Not anymore.” Sera pushed a curl behind her ear. “Half the old path is gone. Rockfalls took big chunks of it—whole ledges, whole switchbacks. Anyone trying to go straight through has to climb now. Real climbing. Sheer faces, loose stone, gaps where the mountain just… isn’t there anymore.”

Foxran groaned and slumped sideways. “Love that. Love when the ground decides not to exist.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Sera added.

Berin straightened. “Then what is?”

“Hollow men.” Her tone landed like a dropped stone. “They’re thick through the middle stretch of the pass. Not roaming aimless—searching. For something. Stopping anyone they find. If they don’t catch your face quick enough, they follow the echo of your footsteps.”

The hearth crackled. No one spoke for a moment.

“So horses are out of the question,” Tavren said finally.

Sera snorted. “Unless your horses can climb vertical walls or punch hollow men in the teeth.”

Kaelen muttered, “Mine might,” but there was no conviction behind it.

Sera shook her head. “You leave them with me. I’ll house them, feed them, and if it looks like it’ll be safer to trade them off for supplies, I’ll make sure you get full value in goods. You won’t want them starving or taken.” She tilted her chin. “You’re going to need the rope more than you need saddles.”

“At least two hundred feet,” Seth said. “More pinions than we think. Maybe a hammer.”

Berin glanced at Alenyah, then cleared his throat. “And, well. All of that only works if Alenyah can climb.” He hesitated. “If she still means to keep going with us.”

Sera’s eyes slid toward her. Tavren’s too. Then Foxran’s. Even Seth, leaning forward on his knees. And finally Kaelen—his gaze sharp, unreadable, flickering like the firelight.

Alenyah felt the weight of all their attention settle over her like a cloak she wasn’t strong enough to hold up. She swallowed. The bread on her lap blurred, her hands suddenly too still. Every face waited. Not unkindly. But with expectation. With fear. With hope. To save a moment, she swallowed some of the water Althea had brought and wiped her mouth with her sleeves (there were no napkins to be had).

She wished she could stand as she addressed them, as she looked them in the eye. Instead, she straightened her spine as much as her injuries would allow and lifted her chin, calling upon the strength of her mother.

“Thank you,” she murmured hoarsely. Then, clearing her throat, she spoke more strongly. “I have not treated you as I ought. From the beginning, I mistrusted you, I ignored you, and I did not seek to know you.” Her eyes drifted to the Stoneborn. “Any of you.”

Then she continued, “Yet, you have saved my life, more than once. And I understand now, that if you could have, you would have saved Valka.I think some,” Her eyes went to Foxran, who stiffened, “would have dove in after her, if you weren’t saving the others.”

The obsidian Stoneborn had the grace to flush, making the lines on his face starker. Seth reached over and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You have doctored my wounds, and I haven’t given you an ounce of praise for your skill. And most of all, you wanted to know me.” The pain of losing Valka was still a bleeding wound in her sternum, but more than anything now, she knew she had to continue onwards, towards hope, towards salvation.



And now she faced Kaelen, turning fully. He stiffened, and he bent towards her, almost instinctively.

“I was afraid of you. I still am. I don’t know if I can trust you,” her hand gently covered his, and her eyes silvered with tears. “But I am going to try.” Kaelen turned his palm up, threading his fingers through her own. His palm dwarfed hers, but the heat warmed her more than any fire.

“I think we should all continue,” Alenyah said, her voice thinned by emotion but steady with conviction. “Not just for ourselves, but for our Choirs. Our people. For those who deserve to live in the purest Song.”

Her eyes grew too heavy then, blurring the faces before her. Embarrassed, she began to pull her hand back, but Kaelen tightened his grip, refusing to let her withdraw into herself again.

Not now. Not from them.

Not from him.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, Althea rose, and careful of her wounds, embraced her around the neck. Alenyah withdrew her hand from Kaelen to embrace her friend. She closed her eyes and heard the scrape of chairs and benches as the others approached. Hands fell on her shoulders, and someone ruffled her hair.

Tears slid warm down her cheeks, but this time they did not feel like something breaking. This sorrow was fuller, an ache born not of emptiness but of everything she still carried.

She had learned, suddenly and all at once, that grief was not the absence of love. It was the proof of it. The overflow.

She had pushed that love outward all her life. Toward the Rhea, toward her Choir, toward every soul she felt responsible for saving. And now, surrounded by these unlikely companions, she wondered if, at last, she could spare a little of that love for herself.