Echoes in the Smoke

The aftermath of the Scorcher ambush hung in the air like the smoke still curling from the wreckage.

Ashborn’s caravan had made it out—but barely. Three transports were lost, including a med-supply unit Kael had been assigned to protect. Fires still burned on the edges of the district, their flickering light casting jagged shadows on buildings scarred by gunfire and blast marks. The Scorchers had hit hard and fast, taking advantage of weak points in the convoy’s route, and then melted into the ruins like ghosts.

The dead were being counted. The wounded screamed through the night.

Kael hadn’t slept. Neither had Lira. Ember Squad was posted to emergency patrol along the perimeter wall, guarding against another strike. The cold had grown sharper, biting even during the day—a clear sign that the Days of Moon were truly beginning. And with them came longer nights, deeper hunger, and more desperate enemies.

Kael leaned against a rusted barricade, staring into the hazy skyline. His armor was singed, patched together with scavenged plating. His rifle felt heavier than usual. His thoughts heavier still.

He kept seeing the girl.

A civilian, maybe twelve or thirteen, caught in the crossfire. Her scream had cut through the battle noise just as Kael pulled the trigger on a Scorcher charging through the smoke. The enemy went down—so did she. He didn’t know whose bullet had struck her. Maybe it wasn’t even his. But it didn’t matter. She was still dead.

He hadn’t told the others. Not yet.

“They’re getting bolder,” Marek muttered beside him, adjusting the grip on his repeater. “Two years ago, the Scorchers wouldn’t have dared come this close to Ashborn’s supply line.”

Kael nodded absently. “They’re starving. Same as us. Same as everyone.”

“Doesn’t make ‘em less dangerous.”

Lira stepped over, her face marked by soot and dried blood. “We lost seventeen. Ten more in critical.”

Her voice was steady. But Kael saw the storm behind her eyes. She wasn’t just keeping it together—she was willing herself not to break.

“Command’s pulling all outer patrols back,” she continued. “They’re reinforcing from the inside out. Anything beyond Sector Four is considered contested territory now.”

That hit Kael harder than he expected. Ashborn was retreating inward. Shrinking.

“Feels like a coffin slowly closing in,” Samir said, joining them with a half-hearted grin, his left arm bandaged from elbow to wrist. “And we’re the bones rattling around inside it.”

Despite the humor, the words rang true. The walls of Ashborn, once symbols of safety and strength, now felt more like the edge of a trap.

That night, Ember Squad found a quiet corner of the watchtower to rest. A small fire crackled between them, their faces half-lit in orange glow. Kael finally spoke.

“There was a girl,” he said quietly. “During the fight. Caught in the crossfire. Could’ve been me. Might’ve been me.”

The others were silent. No judgment. No forced comfort.

Lira nodded slowly. “War doesn’t care who gets caught in the middle. But we do. That’s why we’re different from them.”

Samir threw another scrap of broken wood into the fire. “That guilt? Means you’re still human, Kael. The Scorchers? They gave that up a long time ago.”

Kael stared into the flames, watching them dance. He wanted to believe that. He had to believe that.

Above them, smoke curled into the sky and disappeared into the cold stars. Somewhere out there, the Nexus was still advancing. The Scorchers would come again. And Ashborn was bleeding from a thousand cuts.

But for tonight, Ember Squad was alive. And sometimes, survival was enough to keep the spark burning.