The dawn broke cold over Ashhold as Lynn led his crew west, the Starlight Engine rattling behind them on scavenged wheels. Its steel frame smoked, a beast half-born, its core glowing faint from Ella’s fire and Lyra’s crystals. Thorn hauled it like a plow, his bulk unyielding, while Kael scouted ahead, wind rustling his coat. Seryn trailed at the rear, her glow dim, eyes downcast—six now, a ragged band against the Flame Lords’ wrath. The smelter was lost, guards swarming its ashes, but Lynn’s mind burned with purpose—those visions of steel and roar driving him on.

  “We need a hole,” Lynn said, voice rough from smoke. “Somewhere they won’t sniff us out.”

  “The Hollow,” Kael said, pointing to a ravine cutting the horizon—a scar of cracked earth and twisted metal, once a mine, now a graveyard of rust. “Deep, dark, and forgot. Perfect.”

  “Perfect’s a stretch,” Ella muttered, her ember low. “Seryn knows it too—she could sell us.”

  Seryn flinched, her voice soft. “I won’t. I swear.”

  “Swear’s cheap,” Ella said, sharp. “Prove it.”

  “Enough,” Lynn cut in, glancing at Seryn. “She’s here. That’s step one.”

  Thorn grunted, unimpressed. “Step two’s not dying.”

  They reached the Hollow’s edge, its depths swallowing the light—pipes jutted like bones, shadows pooling thick. Kael slid down first, his wind softening the drop, and signaled clear. Thorn lowered the engine with a groan, its wheels crunching gravel, while Lynn helped Lyra and Seryn descend. Ella leapt last, her ember flaring to light the way.

  The ravine’s belly was a maze of debris—rusted carts, broken picks, a forge long cold. Lynn kicked a bar aside, nodding. “This’ll do. We build here—bigger, stronger.”

  “Bigger?” Lyra asked, setting her crystals down. “The core’s shaky already.”

  “Then we fix it,” Lynn said, those visions pulsing—gears, pistons, a beast to topple towers. “Seryn, you sensed ore—any here?”

  She hesitated, then raised her hands—her glow flickered, faint but steady, probing the dark. “There,” she said, pointing to a collapsed tunnel. “Small vein, deep. Enough to keep us going.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Good,” Lynn said, a spark of trust flickering. “Thorn, dig it out. Kael, scout the rim—keep us breathing.”

  Thorn lumbered off, his strength tearing at the rubble, while Kael climbed back up, wind trailing him. Ella fed fire into the engine, its hum rising, and Lyra shaped a crystal, her fingers deft. Seryn watched, silent, then stepped to the ore pile, her glow guiding Thorn’s strikes.

  “See?” Lynn said to Ella, low. “She’s proving it.”

  Ella’s ember dimmed. “One good turn don’t erase a snake’s bite.”

  “Give it time,” Lynn said, fitting a plate to the frame. The engine’s wheels turned—slow, jerky, but alive. “We’ve got a start.”

  A shout broke the quiet—Kael, tumbling back down, his face pale. “Guards—twenty, east ridge. Seryn’s fault?”

  Seryn’s glow dropped, her eyes wide. “No—I didn’t—”

  “Stow it,” Lynn snapped, grabbing a rod. “They tracked us—smelter smoke, maybe. Ella, flare the tunnel—buy us space. Thorn, Kael—block the drop.”

  Ella’s fireball roared into the tunnel, a wall of heat and ash, while Thorn and Kael shoved carts to the ravine’s mouth. Guards descended—blades gleaming, whips cracking—their shouts muffled by the Hollow’s echo. Lynn gripped the engine, its hum spiking as Lyra jammed a crystal in.

  “Fight or run?” Thorn growled, bar raised.

  “Fight,” Lynn said, adrenaline surging. “We’ve got teeth—use ‘em.”

  Ella’s fire lashed out, scorching a guard’s arm, while Thorn swung, shattering a whip-man’s ribs. Kael’s wind blasted dirt into their eyes, and Seryn’s ice grazed a blade, slowing him. Lynn aimed the engine—its jet flared, weaker than the smelter but sharp, singeing a guard’s legs. He fell, howling, as the crew pressed on.

  “Hold!” a voice barked—deep, commanding. A captain stepped through, armored in black, his whip coiled like a snake. “Surrender, or we bury you.”

  Lynn’s jaw tightened. “Bury this,” he said, nodding to Ella. Her fire surged, the engine roared—a blast of heat rocked the Hollow, scattering guards, the captain diving aside. Dust choked the air, and Lynn yelled, “Back—deep!”

  They retreated, dragging the engine, its wheels grinding. The captain’s whip cracked—Seryn cried out, ice flaring as it lashed her arm, frost meeting leather. “Go!” she gasped, shoving Lynn on.

  The tunnel swallowed them, Ella’s fire lighting the way. They stopped, panting, the engine’s glow flickering. Kael coughed, grinning. “That’s a bite!”

  “Teeth,” Thorn said, nodding.

  Lyra clutched her crystals, shaken. “They’ll dig us out.”

  “Not today,” Lynn said, checking Seryn—her arm bled, but her glow held. “You okay?”

  She nodded, grimacing. “I—I tried.”

  “You did,” Lynn said, firm. “Ella?”

  Ella’s ember steadied, her glare softening—just a hair. “She’s still here.”

  Seryn exhaled, a ghost of relief. Lynn turned to the engine—scarred, alive, a beast growing. “We’ve got ground, ore, time. Next raid’s theirs—they’ll feel it.”

  The Hollow’s dark wrapped them, the captain’s horns fading. Lynn’s crew stood—ragged, bloodied, unbroken. His visions roared—steel, fire, a beast to shake the sky. The Flame Lords were hunting, but the spark was a blaze now, and it wouldn’t die quiet.