The cavern trembled beneath Ashhold, a vast, hollow skull of stone and shadow, its walls scarred with the claw-marks of forgotten miners and slick with the sweat of molten earth. The air burned, heavy with sulfur and the metallic tang of spilled blood, as if the ground itself bled from wounds too deep to heal. The Starlight Engine sat hunched amid the wreckage, its frame warped from the Forged’s claws, core flickering like a heart on the edge of collapse—red, then white, then red again. Lynn stood before it, arm crusted with blood, chest tight with the ache of survival. His crew ringed him, shadows in the gloom: Ella slumped, ember low; Thorn towered, arm blistered; Kael grinned, wind restless; Lyra cradled her bleeding hand; and Seryn stared at the crack in the wall, glow dim, as if it whispered her name.

  The crack pulsed, a jagged vein of molten light splitting the stone, wider now—red as forgefire, deep as the abyss. Whispers slithered from it, low and guttural, a chorus of voices older than steel, colder than ice. The ground quaked, dust raining, and the engine’s hum faltered—Lyra’s crystals shivered, their light dimming.

  “What the hell is that?” Kael asked, blade spinning, his laugh gone brittle. The wind clung to him, nervous now, a scout sensing prey turned hunter.

  Lyra’s voice trembled, her bloody hand clutching a shard. “It’s waking—something big. The crystals… they feel it.” Her calm cracked—fear bled through, a child facing the dark.

  Ella dragged herself up, pain a knife in her leg, her ember sparking. “Let it come. I’ll burn it ‘til it’s ash.” Her defiance was a shield, thin and dented—she hated the tremble in her bones, the weight of being less than whole.

  Lynn’s eyes locked on the crack, visions roaring—fire swallowing fire, a beast of steel rising. This is their answer. They’ll bury us. “We don’t wait,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “Load what’s left—move deeper. We fight on our terms.”

  Seryn shook her head, glow flaring briefly. “Deeper’s death. That’s their heart—Flame Lords’ old forge. I’ve heard the tales—things sleep there, things they bound.” Her mind churned—guilt and dread, a storm of I woke this—yet she stood, blood seeping, needing to prove she wasn’t theirs.

  Thorn hefted his bar, voice a low rumble. “Fight here or there—same blood.” His arm throbbed, flesh raw, but he’d swing ‘til he dropped—pride was his chain.

  Before Lynn could choose, the crack split wider—stone screamed, and a blast of heat roared out, knocking Kael flat, singeing Ella’s hair. From the rift, a shape emerged—massive, molten, a colossus of slag and flame, its limbs jagged with steel, eyes twin furnaces of white rage. It towered, twice Thorn’s height, heat melting frost to steam, voice a bellow that shook the cavern: “Rebels die.”

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  “Move!” Lynn yelled, shoving the engine back. Ella’s fire surged, a desperate howl—flames met the colossus, sizzling against its chest, but it strode through, unscathed. Thorn swung, bar clanging off its leg—sparks flew, his arms jolted, the beast unmoved. Kael’s wind lashed, scattering ash, but the heat swallowed it whole.

  Lyra scrambled, slotting her last crystals—two shattered in her grip, blood slicking her fingers. “It’s too strong!” she cried, the engine’s core flaring wild—white-hot, unstable. Lynn pushed, wheels buckling, heat blistering his hands. “Hold it together!” he roared, voice breaking.

  The colossus swung, a fist of molten steel smashing the ground—stone shattered, the crew diving as shards flew. Seryn flung ice, frost clawing its arm—steam hissed, slowing it a breath. It turned, eyes searing her, and she froze—their tool, their traitor—then ducked as its claw raked the air, tearing steel from a hulk.

  Ella limped forward, ember blazing—“Burn, you bastard!”—fire roared, a wall of red that scorched its face. It bellowed, staggering, molten cracks webbing its helm. Lynn rammed the engine, core blasting heat—the colossus reeled, one leg buckling, but it swung back, claw ripping the engine’s side. Metal screamed, wheels spinning free.

  “Back!” Lynn shouted, dragging Lyra clear as sparks rained. Thorn tackled the beast’s leg, bar denting steel—molten blood sprayed, searing his chest. He roared, falling back, skin bubbling. Kael’s wind blinded it, buying seconds—Seryn’s ice locked its other leg, ice cracking under heat.

  Ella’s fire flared one last time, a dying scream—it hit the colossus’s chest, molten core splitting. Lynn shoved the engine, ramming its ruin—the beast collapsed, a heap of slag and fading flame, cavern shaking as it fell.

  They stumbled back, panting, blood and ash thick. Ella slumped, ember gone, coughing blood. “Got you,” she rasped, grinning through ruin. Thorn clutched his chest, breath ragged. Kael wiped sweat, wild-eyed. “Hell’s teeth!”

  Lyra’s hands shook, crystals dead—engine dark, smoking. “It’s done,” she whispered, voice hollow—her world gone silent.

  Lynn knelt, arm bleeding anew, staring at the colossus’s wreck. We’re alive. Barely. The beast was theirs again, but broken—too broken. “We rebuild,” he said, forcing strength he didn’t feel. Or we’re dead.

  Seryn sank beside him, glow extinguished, eyes on the crack—still pulsing, whispers louder now. “That wasn’t all,” she said, voice a ghost. “They’re waking the forge itself.”

  A deep groan rolled through the stone—not the cavern, but Ashhold above. The sky beyond the tunnels darkened, red veins spreading like a plague. The Flame Lords’ true wrath stirred, and it was no longer steel—it was fire alive.

  Lynn stood, gripping the engine’s husk, visions a storm—fire against fire, ash against ash. “Then we burn brighter,” he growled, turning to his crew—shattered, defiant, his.