Vortex Origins
Chapter 49: I’m Ash Burns

Chapter 49: I’m Ash Burns

The fire flickered weakly, its glow stretching shadows across the wooden walls. The scent of burnt wood and dust hung in the air. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks in the cabin, whispering like unseen ghosts.

Neither of them spoke.

The man sat stiffly, hands gripping his knees, his body still too tense—like a cornered animal ready to bolt.

Ash, leaning back against the creaky chair, exhaled.

’At least offer your guest some water or something...’

Finally, the man let out a slow breath.

"Sorry... about earlier,"

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with raw panic.

"I only started this job last week."

Ash shrugged.

"No problem."

His tone was flat and indifferent.

The man’s gaze lingered, still cautious but studying him now—measuring.

"Where exactly did you come from? How did you even get here?"

Ash stretched his legs slightly.

"Name’s Ash, I just came out from Sandworm Valley."

The man’s face hardened instantly.

His fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.

"You expect me to believe that? No one walks out of Sandworm Valley. And you—"

His brow furrowed

"—you’re just a kid."

Ash ran a hand over his face.

’I don’t have time for this.’

"Actually..."

He met the man’s eyes, voice calm.

"I’m Ash Burns."

A sharp inhale.

The man stiffened, body going rigid as recognition flashed across his face. The doubt drained away, replaced by something else—something heavier.

"So... you have fire—"

Ash raised his hand before he finished his words.

"[Activating skill: Scorch Palm]"

A wave of heat rippled through the air. Flames ignited in his palm—controlled, steady, burning with an intensity that distorted the space around it. The glow painted his face in flickering orange.

Then, just as easily, the fire vanished.

Silence.

The man swallowed. His fingers twitched again, but this time, it wasn’t fear that held him still.

Ash lowered his hand.

"So... do you believe me now?"

A slow, hesitant nod.

Ash pressed forward.

"I don’t have time to waste. People are trapped in Sandworm Valley. They need food. A lot of it."

The man didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on Ash, as if seeing him for the first time. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into something almost resembling a smirk.

"You ran all this way? Aren’t you hungry yourself?"

His voice was lighter now.

At that exact moment, Ash’s stomach let out a deep, traitorous growl.

The smirk widened.

It was as if the man’s words had summoned it.

Then man let out a low chuckle, shaking off the last remnants of tension. He pushed himself to his feet, the wooden floor creaking under his weight.

"Alright, I’ll get you something to eat. Then we’ll head to the settlement and gather supplies for your people."

He strode toward a small storage area in the corner, his movements no longer hesitant.

Ash let out a slow breath. His shoulders, tight with exhaustion, eased just a little.

"Thanks."

The man didn’t turn around, but his voice carried something lighter now—something genuine.

"No worries. Your father saved my life more times than I can count."

"...You knew him?"

The man shook his head, reaching up to rummage through a wooden crate.

"Not personally. But the things he did for our village? Unforgettable."

Ash’s gaze sharpened.

’A village?’

"Which one?"

The man finally turned, setting down a small loaf of bread and a jar in front of him. His expression was calm, but his eyes carried a weight of old memories.

"Terra. After the explosion... after his sacrifice... I respected him even more. He risked his life to save all of us."

Ash didn’t move. The fire crackled softly, but the warmth felt distant, like a memory just out of reach.

Then, slowly, the corner of his lips twitched—just barely.

The man handed him the food.

Ash took it without a word, nodding.

The first bite was dry, but he didn’t care. The fire popped in the hearth, the flickering embers painting the walls in shades of orange and gold.

The air felt a little less heavy now.

————

The bread crumbled between Ash’s teeth, dry and flavorless, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere—back with the others, waiting, hungry, counting on him to return. He swallowed quickly, ignoring the roughness in his throat, his fingers tightening around the sack of food.

Across from him, the man sat stiff, his hands twitching against his knees. His eyes flicked toward Ash every few seconds, like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream—that someone had actually walked out of that valley alive.

Ash pulled his cloak tighter.

"We should go."

The man hesitated, then stood. He crossed the small room and pried open an old storage crate, pulling out a worn pack. Ration cubes, water canisters, and energy bars wrapped in metallic film disappeared inside.

"This is all I can spare,"

He was tying the sack shut before handing it over.

"The settlement’s will give much better food."

Ash slung it over his shoulder without complaint.

"It’s enough."

They stepped outside.

The wind hit first—sharp, carrying the scent of rust and something rotten beneath the earth. The landscape stretched endlessly, an expanse of cracked ground and twisted wreckage, the bones of a world that had been swallowed by time. Dunes rolled against jagged steel remains, the remnants of some long-forgotten war.

Ash moved effortlessly, his steps light, almost unnatural on the unstable ground. The man followed, slower, his boots sinking slightly with each step. The loose edges of his cloak snapped in the wind, but Ash barely heard it over the sound of his own breath.

After a while, the man spoke.

"I heard stories about your father’s flames. Said it burned without fuel, without air. Like it had a mind of its own."

Ash didn’t slow. His expression remained unreadable.

"I’ve seen it."

The image was seared into his memory—the fire moving like it was alive, devouring everything in its path. Something more than just heat. It even kills stuff that refused to die.

The man exhaled through his nose.

"That explains a lot."

Ash said nothing.

The terrain shifted beneath their feet, dunes giving way to jagged wreckage. Shattered buildings, fused with rock, jutted from the ground at unnatural angles. Shadows stretched long against the sand, shifting oddly with the flickering light of the twin moons overhead.

Then—movement.

Ash’s gaze snapped to the horizon. A figure lurked among the ruins, its form blending seamlessly with the wreckage. At first, it was still, almost part of the landscape. Then, it twitched—long limbs bending at unnatural angles, eyes glinting faintly in the dim light.

Not a Sandworm.

The man stiffened. His breathing changed. Then he whispered.

"Shadow hound"

Ash didn’t need the warning. He was already moving.

The creature tilted its head, its long fingers dragging against the metal remains beside it, a slow, deliberate scrape that sent a chill through the air. Then, with inhuman speed, it twisted and vanished into the wreckage.

Ash’s pace quickened. The man followed without question.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before the settlement came into view.

Half-buried in the canyon walls, reinforced barriers loomed over the landscape, their steel plating weathered but unbroken. Towering floodlights flickered against the rock, casting eerie shadows over the gates. Beyond them, figures moved along the walls, their silhouettes rigid, weapons at the ready.

Turrets tracked their approach. Drones hovered above, silent observers in the night.

Ash’s eyes narrowed.

The man beside him tensed.

"They don’t really trust outsiders that well. Especially one that came through the front gate."

Ash could feel it—the shift in the air, the weight of unseen gazes pressing down.

Like they knew.

knew he wasn’t someone normal.