A thin young man with a haggard face stepped from the cargo hold of a heavily damaged ship into the open air. Snow fell in thick, slow curtains, settling on his shoulders, on the chains crossing his wrists, and on the back of his neck where a metal collar sat flush against bare skin. The cold of it burned — and Ash hissed through his teeth accordingly.
"So... cold."
Each chain link, from neck to ankle, clinked in weary sequence as one of the captain's men dragged him forward by the lead. The ramp was steep and his legs had forgotten their purpose after weeks of disuse; he nearly went down on one knee against the metal grating before the chain corrected him with characteristic indifference.
Then, at last, his boots found snow-covered ground. He looked up.
The sky was white and low, the kind that held more snow behind it. Wind moved through in short, impatient bursts, driving flakes sideways across his face. Between the structures of the settlement ahead, it whistled at a pitch that was thin and constant and entirely without comfort.
He turned his gaze and took stock.
The first thing he noted was a line of people chained as he was, arranged ahead in the snow. Unlike Ash — gaunt-faced and visibly diminished — the others appeared entirely healthy. Their clothes were layered and respectable for commoners. They stood straight. None of them wore the particular look of someone who had not slept properly in weeks.
That was deliberate. Ash had not eaten in days, and sleep had been avoiding him with something approaching personal conviction.
All of that was behind him now.
He was finally here. One of Apex's settlements. His objective could continue.
He shifted his gaze toward the front of the group.
Two factions stood facing each other in the snow, their breath rising in small white clouds. The tension between them was legible even from a distance — weapons drawn, bodies angled forward, voices elevated well past the threshold of civility.
The leader of the first faction was a broad-shouldered man with a thick neck and a jagged scar that had divided his left eyebrow into two unequal halves. He wore a long charcoal duster over tactical gear. Knives hung from his belt with casual abundance. A pistol sat in its holster. The men behind him were rough-looking in the way that ships like this one reliably produced.
The other faction's leader was a woman in her forties. Blonde hair pulled back with military precision. A crisp black tactical suit. She stood very still, and the soldiers at her back stood the same way.
Both groups had their weapons trained on each other.
The scarred man ground his teeth. Then his head turned, and when his eyes found Ash, something in his expression rearranged itself — and with it came a smile that made Ash profoundly uncomfortable.
'Weird bastard.'
The scarred man turned sharply to the men behind him.
"Oi! Lower your weapons, the lot of you. You think we'd last five seconds against Apex's finest? Put them down before someone does something stupid. Stupider than usual."
One of his crew edged forward.
"But Captain, they drew first—"
"Did I ask? Did I pose a question just now?"
The man closed his mouth. Slowly, one by one, the crew lowered their weapons.
The captain rolled his shoulders and turned back to the woman with a pleasant expression, as though the preceding thirty seconds had simply not occurred.
"Commander Ruth. Lovely as ever. Any chance you could persuade your people to stand down as well? I'd rather have this conversation without someone putting a hole in me by accident."
Commander Ruth held still for a moment. Then she glanced behind her and gave a small, economical nod. Her soldiers lowered their rifles.
The captain exhaled at length.
"There we go. This is precisely why I've always respected you. A reasonable woman."
He clasped his hands together.
"Now. All I required was repair money for my ship — a perfectly reasonable request. You won't meet my price, which is entirely your prerogative. Fine. I'll accept your rate for the captives. I am, at my core, a flexible man. But—"
He paused, his gaze drifting sideways.
Commander Ruth's eyes narrowed.
"But what, Matthew."
He did not answer. He simply looked at the man standing beside Ash and gave a small tilt of his head. The chain at Ash's neck jerked, and he was hauled forward into the open space between the captain and the commander.
He stood there between them — rather awkwardly, he felt — as snow accumulated on his shoulders, on the crown of his head, and inside the collar of his shirt. He looked at one, then the other. Then he composed himself and knelt. His head dropped slightly forward and his black hair fell across his face.
The captain grinned. There was something in it that was not entirely steady.
"This one was never part of the deal. He was never meant to be sold. But life is generous with its surprises, and I'm afraid he'll cost you a little extra."
Commander Ruth frowned and studied Ash from above.
"Extra. For this."
She looked back up.
"Matthew, he looks like he hasn't eaten in days. Give me one compelling reason to pay extra for that."
"Because he is not merely some random captive, Commander."
Matthew's grin widened.
"That, right there, is a very important person. There is a substantial reward attached to him, and I have it on excellent authority that the individuals occupying the upper reaches of Apex will be extremely interested in his arrival. Very extremely." He paused, apparently unbothered by the redundancy.
Ruth crouched in front of Ash. She tilted her head. Her eyes moved across his face carefully, and found nothing she recognized.
"He's a kid."
She stood back up.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to be seeing. What are you actually talking about?"
The captain gave a short laugh.
"You looked directly at his face and still don't recognize him. Well — can't be helped, really. You've been buried out here in the snow for what, five years? Six? The world has moved along considerably in your absence."
Commander Ruth's voice dropped flat.
"Out with it."
Matthew pointed down at Ash.
"This is Ashley Burns. Youngest of the Burns family. One of Flame's sons."
He paused to let that settle.
"And yes. That Flame."
Murmuring erupted behind Commander Ruth. She straightened sharply.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Her voice was controlled — though only just.
"You expect me to stand here in the cold and accept that you, of all people, managed to capture one of Flame's sons?"
She looked at Ash, then back at Matthew, then at Ash again, with the air of someone checking their arithmetic a second time and finding the answer no more agreeable for the repetition.
"His hair is black. Every Burns I have ever encountered has red hair. Every single one."
Matthew nodded slowly, with the patient composure of a man who had anticipated this conversation and was entirely prepared for it.
"As expected. You really have missed quite a lot."
Commander Ruth frowned. Matthew smiled as though her frown were something he was privately enjoying.
"Years ago there were reports of a young boy carrying three soul cores. I trust even this far out you heard something of that. Well. That boy is this boy — kneeling in the snow before you, presently. The hair is black because it came from his mother's side; she has since passed, rest her soul. As for what he is: tier five Ascended. Hybrid soul core."
Commander Ruth stared at Ash for a long, measured moment.
"And how, exactly, did you capture him?"
Matthew's smile softened into something almost fond.
"Ah. That part is actually a rather good story."
Commander Ruth looked at him.
"Then tell it."
"It was easy. Genuinely, embarrassingly easy."
Commander Ruth laughed — a short, hard sound, entirely without warmth.
Matthew blinked. The laugh had caught him off guard. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Commander Ruth straightened and composed herself.
"Right. So you want me to believe you simply — easily — captured a tier five Ascended carrying three soul cores. Matthew. Do you have any appreciation for what that means? That would make him one of the most powerful Ascended alive. And you — a tier 3.4 — brought him in chains and breathing."
She gestured at Ash.
"And you want me to pay extra for him."
Matthew's grin was gone.
"What exactly are you implying? That a boy like this could take me?"
He paused. Something shifted in his expression.
"Ah. I see the difficulty. I keep forgetting how much you've actually missed."
He waved a hand.
"The boy is tier five, yes. But he remains at the first stage of his soul and has been sitting there for some considerable time. Something is wrong with him — he cannot ascend to stage two. Stuck there, by all appearances, indefinitely. So what you are actually dealing with is a tier 5.1."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Do you genuinely believe I would lose to a tier 5.1?"
Commander Ruth said nothing.
The captain cleared his throat.
"You still don't believe me. Fine. You want to know exactly how we came to have Flame's son in our possession? Here is the truth — and I give you my word this is the truth — we didn't capture him. Not in any meaningful sense."
He paused.
"The boy walked onto one of my ships in the middle of the night. Unassisted. He went down to the cargo hold, located an empty cell, and locked himself inside it. Voluntarily."
Another pause.
"We didn't even know he was aboard for the first two days."
Silence.
Commander Ruth stared at him.
"What."
"I know."
"He locked himself in?"
"That's what I said."
"On your ship."
"On my ship. Yes."
Matthew's voice had gone quieter.
"I've transported some genuinely appalling people in my time. Murderers. Warlords. Men who made my crew uneasy simply by breathing in their general direction. And every last one of them behaved strangely around this boy — I noticed it; I simply hadn't understood why. But here is what truly gave me pause."
He looked down at Ash.
"He sat in that cell for forty-three days. He ate almost nothing. He slept very little, by all appearances. He made no requests, offered no complaints, caused no trouble whatsoever."
He paused.
"And he did not say a single word. Not once. He simply sat there staring at the wall as though he were waiting for something that only he had been informed about."
He looked back up at Ruth.
"There is something genuinely wrong with that boy, Commander. I say this as someone with extensive and hard-won experience in the matter of troubled individuals."
Ruth's hand moved slowly to her sidearm and rested there.
"Matthew. If this is a game—"
She stopped. Her hand went to her earpiece. Her expression shifted entirely.
"Sir."
A pause.
"His eyes, sir?"
A shorter pause.
"Understood."
She dropped her hand and turned to one of her troopers.
"Check his eyes. Now."
The trooper approached Ash with appropriate caution. Ruth kept her gaze on Matthew.
"I've just received word from the top." Her voice was even and deliberate. "If he is genuinely one of Flame's sons, it will be evident in his eyes — crimson red, the Burns bloodline marker."
She let that settle for a moment.
"And Matthew — I want to be entirely clear. If you are wasting our time, I have been authorized to execute you and your entire crew on the spot. Right here. In this snow."
Matthew spread his arms wide, entirely unbothered.
"Ruth. Honestly. Have I ever lied to you?"
Commander Ruth did not answer. The trooper reached Ash, gripped his chin, and tilted his face up toward the flat white sky.
Ash permitted this. He looked up. The light found his eyes.
The trooper's breath snagged.
"...Crimson red, ma'am. His eyes are crimson red."
The settlement went quiet. Even the wind relented for a moment — though the snow, indifferent to drama, continued falling regardless.
Ruth closed her eyes. When she opened them, her posture had reorganized itself entirely. She spoke in a quiet, measured tone.
"Matthew."
A pause.
"I will be candid with you. I am genuinely surprised. This is the most significant thing you have ever brought in. Quite possibly the most significant thing anyone has ever brought in."
Matthew smiled at that — the smile of a man who had been waiting a considerable while to hear precisely those words.
Ruth straightened.
"I've been authorized to pay triple our standard rate for all captives, plus a separate and substantial bonus for the Burns boy."
She extended her hand.
"Do we have a deal?"
Matthew stepped forward and took it without deliberation.
"Yes. That will do just fine.".