19. Let’s Begin
Chapter nineteen
Let’s Begin
Bang, bang, bang.
“Lyra, get up, sleepyhead!” Ash’s voice rings through the door.
I groan, cracking my eyes open, still groggy with sleep.
Bang. Bang.
“Come on, we’ve got places to be, people to see, shit to do,” Ash calls again.
I yawn, stretching lazily. “Okay, okay, I’m getting up.” It takes me a moment to fully wake, but when I do, the weight of today settles over me.
Shit to do suddenly has a very real meaning: the rebellion meeting.
I want to be excited, to feel the rush of purpose to finally be playing my part in fixing this world. Instead, nerves twist painfully in my stomach.
I’m not sure why. Maybe it is the crowd, the possibility of not being accepted. Or maybe it is the sheer concentration of powerful people gathering in one place, a force too strong to predict or control. Whatever it is, it sends a whisper of unease curling through my chest.
Shaking it off, I hastily throw on my clothes and storm out the door.
Ash is still standing there in the hallway, arms crossed, smirking.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than stand outside my door like some kind of guard dog?” I mutter, brushing past him.
Ash lets out a roaring laugh. “Oh, how the tides have turned, Lyra. Here you were thinking you were the pet, but apparently, it was me all along.” His grin deepens. “Does that make you my master now?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to dignify that with a response. Instead, I start down the hallway. “Where are we going today, anyway?” I ask over my shoulder.
Ash hesitates for a beat, like he is deciding whether to tell me or let it be a surprise. “Wraithmoor,” he finally says. Then, with a glance at me, he adds, “It’s the rebellion’s main stronghold. We gather there once a month to strategize and pool information.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What is up with the creepy town names?”
Ash smirks. “Keeps the tourists away.”
I snort. “Yeah, no kidding. Between Umberfall, Wraithmoor, and whatever other ominous-sounding places you lot frequent, I’m starting to think you want people to believe you're some kind of cult.”
Ash presses a hand to his chest, mockingly wounded. “A cult? Lyra, please. We prefer the term exclusive revolutionary society—it sounds more refined.”
“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. “How far is this exclusive revolutionary society’s secret lair, anyway?”
Ash doesn’t answer. His smile only darkens, and my stomach drops.
We left the village the same way we entered, veering away from the river he took me to yesterday and back into the forest where the abyss spat us out.
The deeper we go, the quieter it becomes, the hum of village life fading into the rustling of leaves and the distant call of some unseen creature.
I know what is coming.
“We aren’t—” The words fall flat as Ash’s mischievous grin widens, telling me everything I need to know. “If this was the plan all along, why did you make me walk all the way here?” I demand, more than a little irritated.
“It draws too much attention,” he answers casually, like dragging me through a nightmare vortex is the most normal thing in the world.
“No.” I plant my feet firmly. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“You’re going to have to get used to it.” Ash makes a dismissive gesture.
“We have a long journey ahead, and we don’t have time to waste trudging for days when we can blink from one place to another.”
I roll my eyes, but the air is already warping.
Ash began making those circles with his fingers, and the world around us twists like ink bleeding into water.
A spiraling void of deep emerald and endless black shimmers before me, flecked with twinkling lights like stars scattered across the midnight sea.
It is beautiful, whatever it is. Terrifying but mesmerizing.
“B—but—” I grasp for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid stepping into that swirling abyss, but nothing comes.
Ash’s grin turns downright devilish. “So . . . are you walking this time, or am I going to have to carry you like Oberon did?”
“Don’t you dare,” I snap, stepping back on instinct.
“Well, up to you.” He rocks back on his heels. “But we need to get going. Your beauty sleep has already cost us precious time.”
I cross my arms, staring at the vortex like it might swallow me whole.
Which, knowing my luck, it probably will.
My stomach twists, but Ash, annoyingly unbothered, just watches me with amusement.
“What if you close your eyes and hold my hand?” he offers, tone almost sweet if not for the mischief dancing behind it.
“I’ll guide you, and you won’t even know you’re walking through it. ”
I consider him for a moment before I exhale sharply. “Fine.”
Ash extends his hand without hesitation, and as my fingers wrap around his, he gives a reassuring squeeze before blindly leading me forward, straight into the swirling unknown.
The moment my feet touch solid ground, I stumble forward, my stomach twisting from the unnatural pull of the portal. The swirling darkness behind me seals shut with a final shudder, leaving me standing just outside the towering walls of Wraithmoor.
I straighten and brush myself off, but the words I was about to snap at Ash die on my tongue.
The fortress looms before me, vast and unyielding, its stone walls weathered by centuries yet standing strong as if daring time itself to break them.
Mist clings to the high hills surrounding it, curling around the battlements, while jagged mountains loom beyond, their peaks piercing the morning sky.
The air is crisp, laced with the scent of damp earth and the faintest trace of musk.
Ash steps forward, unbothered, and with a simple flick of his wrist, the massive stone doors groan in response. Dust and time shake free as the gates obey his silent command, creaking open just enough to reveal the world inside.
Even from the threshold, I can see the life within those walls.
Soldiers move with a swift grace, their training silent but brutal, their steel flashing in the morning light.
Smoke curls lazily from a forge deeper within, blacksmiths hammering weapons meant for war.
Messengers hurry between buildings, their expressions grim and determined.
The air is thick with the weight of purpose, every movement, every sound, a part of something bigger.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling at my sides.
This is no hidden refuge, no desperate band of rebels clinging to hope.
This is an army. A stronghold built not just to withstand but to fight. To win.
Ash lets out a low chuckle beside me. “Careful, Lyra, if you keep gawking like that, your face might freeze."
I snap my jaw shut and shoot him a glare, but I can’t deny the awe settling deep in my chest. I definitely am gawking.
Even the hills surrounding Wraithmoor are no mere landscape.
They are a fortress in their own right, steep and treacherous, a natural barrier that would turn any invasion into a slaughter.
Watchtowers stand like silent guardians along the ridges, their occupants no doubt armed and ready.
Beyond them, the mountains stretch toward the sky, their jagged peaks swallowing the morning light, a reminder of just how isolated and protected this place truly is.
The only visible entrance is a winding, narrow path carved through the hills, a perfect death trap.
Any army attempting to march through would be funneled into a choke point, vulnerable from every angle.
I can already picture archers stationed above, hidden in the heights, waiting to rain death on anyone foolish enough to try.
Ash claps a hand on my shoulder, grinning. “Not bad, huh? We like to keep our guests feeling welcome.”
“How has this place never been found?” I ask, still turning in place, trying to take in every detail. A fortress like this should be a beacon on any map, yet it remains hidden, even as I stand right in front of it.
Ash smirks, pleased with my question. “Wards, of course. Like the ones on the cabin, but much stronger. This isn’t just some cloaking spell.
Wraithmoor doesn’t exist unless it wants to.
” He gestures toward the space around us.
“To outsiders, this is nothing more than an empty valley, an illusion so perfect that even the best scouts would swear there’s nothing here.
If they get too close, they find themselves turned around, wandering in circles without ever realizing it. ”
I narrow my eyes, stretching my senses. He is right.
Now that I focus, I can feel the pull of magic humming around us, layered and intricate, woven so seamlessly into the landscape that it feels like the air itself is charged.
A familiar pulse, like the magic surrounding the cabin, but here, it was denser, more commanding.
“Wards this strong take power,” Ash continues.
“A lot of power. They don’t just keep us hidden; they keep them out.
” His voice dips slightly, a rare edge to his usual easy tone.
“Only those whom the rebellion trusts can pass through. Otherwise, well . . . let’s just say the forest has a way of swallowing unwanted guests. ”
I swallow, casting another glance at the towering walls, at the empty road behind us that suddenly feels far more ominous. “And what happens if someone does manage to break through?”
Ash’s grin returns, all sharp amusement.
“Then they get to meet Wraithmoor’s other defenses.
But let’s hope we don’t have to introduce anyone to those.
Come along, we’re going to be late,” Ash says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down a walkway through the center of the field toward a large, towering brick building.