The Hollow stretched beneath Ashhold like a festering wound, its tunnels coiling through stone and rust, a labyrinth of shadow where the air hung thick with damp and the tang of scorched steel. Beyond its jagged mouth, the sky churned crimson, streaked with ash that fell like blackened snow—a shroud for the waking wrath of the Flame Lords. Deep within, the Starlight Engine crouched, its core glowing fitfully, stacked high with stolen ore and steel plates that gleamed dully in the flicker of Ella’s ember. The crew sprawled around it, battered but breathing: Thorn patched his arm with a grunt, Kael spun a blade idly, Lyra tuned her crystals, Seryn nursed a bloodied sleeve, and Lynn paced, his boots kicking up dust that danced like ghosts.

  “We hit ‘em hard,” Kael said, grinning sharp, the wind still clinging to his voice. “They’re limping, bleeding—tastes good.”

  “Limpin’ don’t mean dead,” Thorn rumbled, flexing his bandaged fist. His shadow loomed, a wall of muscle and scars, yet his eyes flickered—wariness, not triumph.

  Ella snorted, her leg stretched out, blood crusting the tear in her pants. “They’ll crawl back, uglier now. That captain’s face’ll haunt my fire ‘til I burn it off him.” Her ember pulsed, a heartbeat of rage, but beneath it, a tremor—pain gnawed her, and she hated it.

  Lynn stopped, staring at the engine, its hum a low growl in his bones. The visions clawed at him—flames tearing sky, steel bending to his will—and with them, a question: How far can I push this before it breaks us? “They’re hurt,” he said, voice steady despite the churn inside. “We’ve got teeth now. Next bite’s deeper.”

  Seryn shifted, her glow dim as a dying star. “They’ll guard everything now—triple the men, traps.” Her words hung heavy, laced with the echo of her old masters’ commands. She saw their faces in her mind—cold, unyielding—and wondered if she’d traded one cage for another. “I’ve seen their fury. It doesn’t bend.”

  “Then we break it,” Lynn snapped, meeting her eyes. He wanted her steel, not her doubt, but the fear in her gaze mirrored his own—a thread he couldn’t cut.

  Lyra looked up, crystals steady in her hands, their light cutting the gloom. “This holds—for now. More steel, more strain. We need a plan, not just teeth.” Her calm masked a storm—every hum from the engine was her lifeline, and she’d die before it failed.

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  Before Lynn could answer, a low rumble shook the Hollow, dust cascading from the ceiling. Kael sprang up, blade ready. “That ain’t wind.” Thorn hefted his bar, nostrils flaring. Ella’s ember flared, casting shadows that danced like foes.

  “Above,” Seryn whispered, glow spiking as she pointed. “They’re here.”

  The tunnel’s mouth erupted—stone cracked, and a dozen guards poured in, torches blazing, armor clanking like death’s bells. Behind them, the captain strode, black helm scarred from Ella’s fire, his whip coiled like a promise. “Found you, rats,” he growled, voice a blade through the dark. “No holes left to scurry.”

  Lynn’s heart kicked—too soon, too fast. “Ella, flare! Kael, wind—scatter ‘em!” Ella’s fireball screamed upward, blasting the ceiling; rubble rained, guards diving as Kael’s gust whipped dust into their eyes. Thorn roared, charging, his bar smashing a helm into pulp—blood sprayed, hot and wet. Lynn grabbed the engine’s rods, shoving it back, heat searing his palms.

  Seryn froze, glow faltering—memories of whips and chains locked her legs. A guard lunged, blade arcing; she ducked, ice snapping from her hands, tripping him into Thorn’s swing. “Move!” Lynn yelled, snapping her free. She stumbled to his side, dragging steel as Lyra’s crystals pulsed, steadying the core.

  The captain’s whip lashed, snagging Ella’s arm—she cursed, fire surging, but he yanked, pulling her off balance. “Burn me again, bitch?” he snarled, kicking her wound. She hit the ground, ember dimming, pain a white-hot scream in her skull. Lynn roared, ramming the engine forward—its heat blasted, singeing the captain’s arm. He recoiled, whip slashing wild.

  “Out!” Lynn shouted, voice raw. Thorn grabbed Ella, hauling her aboard as Kael’s wind cleared a path. The engine rolled, wheels groaning under loot and blood, guards clawing after them. Seryn’s ice slowed one, Lyra’s light blinded another—Lynn steered, every muscle burning, the Hollow shrinking behind.

  They burst into a deeper tunnel, the beast lurching to a stop, steam hissing. Ella coughed, clutching her arm, fury masking fear. “Bastard’s quick,” she rasped. Thorn wiped blood from his bar, silent. Kael laughed, shaky, “Close shave.”

  “Too close,” Lyra said, checking crystals—cracked, but alive. “We can’t take another.”

  Lynn slumped against the engine, breath ragged. They knew. How? His eyes flicked to Seryn—her glow steadied, but her face was a mask of guilt and dread. Did she call them? No—her blood said otherwise. Still, the doubt gnawed.

  “They’ll dig deeper now,” Seryn said, voice trembling. “That captain—he’s their hound. He won’t stop.”

  “Then we don’t,” Lynn said, standing, steel cold in his grip. “We build, we bite—until they choke on us.” His crew stared—ragged, fierce, teetering on the edge. The engine hummed, a beast starved for more.

  Far above, Ashhold’s forges flared brighter, and a shadow moved—taller, colder than the captain. The Flame Lords stirred, and their next strike would be fire itself.