⟡ Chapter 21: Ashfire Whispers
The flames had burned down to a soft orange glow.
Jio sat with his elbows on his knees, watching a piece of ember twitch at the base of the pit like it was trying to escape. The Stillbone camp was mostly quiet now, except for a low hum of voices behind stretched hides and the occasional clatter of tools being cleaned.
Havella leaned against a stone nearby, arms crossed, gaze drifting between the camp and the stars.
"You keep doing that," she said.
Jio didn't look up. "Doing what?"
"Trying not to think."
He gave a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "What makes you think I'm trying?"
"Because I do it too."
A small silence settled between them. It wasn't cold. It wasn't awkward. It was just comfortable.
From behind them, footsteps approached — soft, deliberate. The girl from earlier, the one with the golden lines on her cheeks, appeared with a bowl in her hands. Steam rose from it.
"This helps," she said simply, offering it to Jio.
He took it, unsure, sniffed the strange broth, and blinked. "Is that... bark?"
"Mostly. And root. And skywater."
"Skywater?"
"It's rain that falls from nothing."
He drank anyway. It tasted like earth and ash. Somehow, it soothed his throat.
"Thanks," he muttered.
The girl didn't sit this time. She stood, watching him like someone watching the weather.
"You dream loud," she said.
Jio raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means the next realm is listening."
Havella stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "He doesn't want that."
"No one gets to want or not want it," the girl replied. "It's already looking at him."
Jio stood up, slow but firm. "Enough riddles. What is the next realm? What does it want?"
The girl's gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly, like she pitied him.
"It wants what everyone wants," she said. "To not be forgotten."
Before Jio could answer, a loud clang echoed from the other side of the camp. Sparks flew up. Voices raised.
The Stillbone elders were gathered near a flat, blackened stone, where a boy stood trembling, his hands bloody, something wrapped in cloth between them.
"They told him not to listen," the golden-lined girl murmured.
Jio and Havella approached with the others. The boy looked no older than ten, but his face had that wide-eyed panic that didn't belong to children.
"I just wanted to know what it meant!" he shouted. "The sky kept calling, and no one would tell me!"
The elders murmured something in unison — a prayer, or a warning.
Jio caught only the end: "...bind the echo before it binds you."
One elder, taller than the rest, approached the boy. His hand reached out, not unkindly, and he placed it on the child's shoulder.
"Your voice is yours," he said gently. "But if you lend it to the sky, it won't give it back."
The boy lowered his head, ashamed.
Jio felt it again then — the hum.
It wasn't loud, but it was there. Beneath his ribs. Inside his teeth. A deep vibration that seemed to know his name.
"Jio," Havella said sharply. "You're hearing it again?"
He nodded once.
The girl with the golden lines stepped closer, voice low.
"You can ignore it. Or you can follow it. But if you follow, the way back isn't yours anymore."
He looked around — the camp, the people, the fire, even the stars above. None of it felt real right now.
"I never asked for this," he said.
"No one does," she replied. "But you're still walking."
Jio closed his eyes for a moment. He saw Sael. He saw Puff. He saw the Wastes, the bridge, the ash.
He opened them again. Looked at Havella.
"How far to the next island?"
She shrugged. "Close enough to reach. Far enough to regret."
He nodded.
"Then we leave at dawn."
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End of Chapter 21
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