Ember's Rest

Where the weary may rest but not necessarily live to leave. - Daily Flash Fiction Entry.

The Eagle Parrot was safely docked, but Darius and Elara weren’t about to stay in Red Harbor longer than necessary. Their gamble had paid off; Vigo had given them the information they needed.

Now, they followed a sign marked path out of the port and into the countryside, heading toward a hidden outpost called Ember’s Rest. If Vigo was right, this place held answers about the cryptic letter and the so called Path of Fire.

The journey was long, the dusty road stretching endlessly before them. They had managed to barter for a horse, though Elara still grumbled about Darius getting to ride while she walked alongside.

“I still think we should’ve gotten two,” she muttered.

Darius patted the horse’s neck. “You’re just mad because I won the coin toss.”

She shot him a glare. “That coin was rigged.”

After hours of travel, the scent of roasted meat drifted through the air, leading them to a roadside inn.

Inside, warmth radiated from a large hearth, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows across the wooden walls. The innkeeper, a stout woman with sharp eyes, placed a plate of steaming stew before them.

“Travelers don’t come this way often,” she said, voice calm, measured. “You must be heading somewhere important.”

Darius tensed. Something in her tone felt off. He exchanged a glance with Elara.

“We’re just passing through,” he said carefully.

The innkeeper smiled too wide, too knowing. Slowly, she reached beneath the counter.

“Sure you are,” she murmured.

Then, in a flash, she drew a blade.

Darius barely had time to react before the sound of marching boots echoed outside. Through the window, he saw them; rows of Drakon soldiers, their black armor gleaming under the moonlight, their commander barking orders.

Elara’s hand went to her dagger. “We need to move!”