Pyra 19 – Pyra 20, Imperial Year 1645
The Kingdom of Mercia – The Black Mountain's Shadow
The mountain had a name once. The locals called it Keraunos – Thunderer – for the storms that gathered around its peak. But after the great demon rose from its depths, they called it only the Black Mountain.
The demon did not leave. Not yet. It stood at the crater's edge, a silhouette of shadow and bone, and watched. Lesser spawn poured from the tunnels like ants from a kicked nest. They spread into the valleys, into the forests, into the villages that had been too slow to flee.
Pyra 19 – Evening
The Village of Ashenwell
Ashenwell was named for the pale ash that fell from the mountain's occasional eruptions. Now ash fell for a different reason. The spawn came at dusk – dog‑sized creatures with too many legs and eyes that glowed green.
The villagers had no soldiers. They had pitchforks, axes, and a single bell in the church tower.
The bell rang for three minutes. Then it stopped.
The spawn moved through the streets, methodical, hungry. By dawn, Ashenwell was silent. The only survivor was a boy who had hidden in the well, breathing through a hollow reed.
He would tell the story later, in the refugee camps. And they believed him. His eyes were hollow, his voice steady. He described the spawn in detail – their movements, their numbers, their hunger. The adults listened. They remembered his face. They would not forget.
Pyra 20 – Morning
The Road from Ashenwell
The boy walked east. He did not know his destination. He only knew that the mountain was behind him, and that he could not go back.
He passed other refugees – families, farmers, a wounded soldier. They asked him what he had seen. He told them. Some wept. Others simply walked faster.
By nightfall, he had joined a column of survivors heading toward the city of Stonebridge. The road was clogged with carts and children. The air smelled of smoke.
"What's your name?" a woman asked him.
He had not spoken it in days. "Corbin," he said.
"Walk with us, Corbin. We'll keep you safe."
He nodded. But he knew that no one could keep anyone safe. Not anymore.
Pyra 21 – Morning
The City of Stonebridge – The Gates
Stonebridge was a market city, wealthy, proud. Its walls were thick, its guards numerous. The refugees crowded the gates, begging for entry.
The council debated.
"They will strain our resources," said one merchant.
"They are our people," said another.
"They are a liability."
The gates remained closed for most of the day. By evening, the council relented – but only for the women and children. The men were turned away.
Corbin was allowed in because of his age. He watched as his father – a man he had met on the road, not his real father – was left outside.
"I'll find you," the man said.
Corbin did not believe him.
End of Chapter Seventy‑Three