Vortex Origins
Chapter 51: Elder Eir

Chapter 51: Elder Eir

A voice pierced the thick air, sharp and commanding.

"Over here!"

Ash turned, his gaze catching an older man wrapped in a long robe, the fabric woven with dark symbols that seemed to shift in the dim light. The man’s presence commanded attention, and behind him, three guards moved in sync, their hands near their weapons, eyes darting, assessing the surroundings.

The guard escorting Ash stiffened, stepping aside.

"Allow me to introduce the leader of Ironhold—Elder Eir."

Eir waved a hand dismissively, his eyes already locking onto Ash.

"Yeah, yeah,"

He muttered, stepping forward with a purpose.

Ash didn’t move as the distance between them closed, but the moment Eir was within reach, he grabbed both of Ash’s hands with an intensity that caught him off guard.

"Are you really Ash Burns?"

Eir’s voice was a low, fervent murmur, his eyes gleaming with something Ash couldn’t quite place.

Ash nodded, his expression steady.

Eir’s grip tightened, his voice rising with a strange excitement.

"Oh, I was a huge fan of your father. To think I’d live to see one of his sons standing before me!"

A sigh escaped the guard beside them, a hand rubbing his forehead as he muttered,

"Elder, act more mature. People are watching."

Eir blinked, his gaze shifting around the growing crowd, and for a moment, something shifted in his demeanor. The enthusiasm in his eyes dimmed, replaced by the calculated coolness of a leader.

He cleared his throat.

"Forgive me,"

He said, his voice now steady, controlled.

"I heard you came from Sandworm Valley."

Ash didn’t hesitate.

"Yes, and I don’t have much time. My brothers are still there."

Eir’s eyes flicked wide, a jolt of shock racing through him.

"What?!"

But Ash’s gaze never wavered, his voice low and steady.

"And it’s not just them. There are still a lot of people trapped there."

Eir’s excitement faltered, his expression slowly draining of color. The weight of Ash’s words sank in, settling like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

"I’m sorry, But there’s nothing I can do."

Ash exhaled sharply, though the weight of the answer had been what he expected.

"I’m not asking you to send anyone with me."

Eir blinked, his brow furrowing.

"Wait... You’re going back there?"

Ash gave a single nod, sharp and deliberate.

"Yeah. I only came to get enough food for them."

Eir’s face twisted, caught between hesitation and concern.

"At least contact headquarters for help. They’d be more than willing to assist you."

"We already did, But I need to reach them again. I have to send them our exact location."

Eir was quiet, his fingers drumming against his side. The moment stretched, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he sighed, a sharp exhale that seemed to carry the weight of a decision.

"We’ll prepare the communicator and gather as much food as possible for you."

He turned swiftly, snapping orders without pause.

"Go to the communication center. Tell them to establish contact with headquarters immediately. This is urgent—it’s from one of the Sons of Flame."

The guard nodded once, a quick motion, before vanishing into the crowd.

Eir’s gaze shifted to another, his orders sharp.

"Head to the storage. Gather as much food as possible. Bring the weight-reducing machine as well."

The second guard hesitated, his eyes flicking to Ash for a moment before he nodded and hurried off.

Once the guards were gone, Eir turned back to Ash, his face a mask of grim resolve.

"Now, follow me, Let’s contact headquarters. The last thing I want is wasting any more of your time."

Eir pivoted, his robe swirling as he strode ahead, each step precise, urgent.

Ash moved in sync, his mind a battlefield of thoughts. Every second that passed felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

Behind them, Guz exhaled, finally breaking his silence.

"Well... looks like my job’s done. I should head back to the Watcher’s Cabin."

Eir flicked a glance over his shoulder.

"Forget it. You brought in an important guest. Your pay is covered—plus extra. Go home. Check on your kids."

Guz hesitated, his usual sharp demeanor cracking for just a moment. Then, he nodded, a quiet relief settling in his shoulders.

"Appreciate it, Elder."

His gaze shifted to Ash.

"Be careful. That place isn’t kind to anyone."

Ash met his stare, his expression firm.

"I know."

Guz let out a breath, then smirked.

"Well, if you make it back, drop by. I’ll want to hear how you walked out of that nightmare alive."

A flicker of amusement crossed Ash’s face—small, but real.

"I’ll hold you to that."

Guz chuckled before turning, his figure melting into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, the weight of reality pressed down once more.

Eir didn’t pause.

"Come. There’s no time to waste."

Ash followed, his gaze sweeping over Ironhold’s streets, the city’s unease thrumming beneath its surface.

————

Eir led Ash through the winding, dust-choked alleys of Ironhold, their footsteps striking against the uneven metal plating beneath them.

The settlement pulsed with quiet activity—hushed conversations behind barred windows, distant clangs of machinery, and the occasional flicker of light from salvaged power sources. The air carried a mix of oil, rust, and something stale, something old.

They moved deeper, past makeshift homes welded together from scrap, until the landscape shifted. Before them loomed the Communication Center.

Unlike the patchwork buildings surrounding it, this structure was built to last. Its reinforced concrete and steel exterior bore the scars of time, yet stood firm. Towering above it, a transmitter stretched toward the dark sky, its skeletal frame buzzing faintly.

Two guards flanked the entrance, their weathered faces unreadable beneath the dim overhead light. They straightened as Eir approached, offering silent nods before stepping aside.

The steel doors groaned open, revealing a space humming with controlled chaos. Rows of terminals lined the walls, their screens flickering with incoming transmissions.

Operators hunched over consoles, their fingers dancing across worn keyboards. The air was thick with the low whir of machines, the occasional burst of static cutting through the quiet.

At the center of it all, a pulsing red light illuminated the main console—Ironhold’s direct link to the outside world.

Ash scanned the room, taking in the ordered disarray. This wasn’t a place built for comfort. It was built to function, to survive.

Eir strode toward the central console, his tone leaving no room for delay.

"Get me a line to Headquarters. Now."

The nearest operator, a woman with sharp eyes and braids pulled tight against her scalp, didn’t hesitate. Her fingers flew over the controls, and within moments, a crackling voice filled the room.

"This is Headquarters. Elder Eir, we’ve been expecting your call. What’s the status?"

Eir’s gaze flicked to Ash before he spoke.

"Ash Burns is here."

A brief pause. Then the voice on the other end shifted, more alert, more urgent.

"Understood. Redirecting to the boss now."