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by Briar Solis
The ash remembers every lie.
Yesenia Lang has spent years drawing maps for a crown that treats her fae sight as a weapon and her guilt as a leash. When Cinderward’s war office drags her from her vault on a moonless night and presses an exile writ into her hands, her orders are simple: reach the sky-temple war room before eclipse, or be branded a traitor. What she finds at the base of the ruined stair is worse than any ambush — Torin Ghent, scarred rebel path-breaker, sent by the shadowbound for the very same door. And when they both try to lie about it, the sentient ash burns them for it.
The iron key to the chamber is already gone. A dead priest hangs from a broken chain above the first landing. Somewhere in the dark above them, an unseen thief climbs toward a room that can rewrite every road in the kingdom — and the exile writ nailed to the torch bears both their names.
Did this story work for you?
Did this story work for you?
Inspired by Cinderward
Choose the trope, heat, characters and ending. No creation experience needed.