Page 5 of Ash and Burn

The sharp chime of his communicator suddenly shattered the silence.

Calix paused mid-step, his green eyes flashing with irritation. The device's insistent buzz demanded attention he didn't want to give, but duty had trained him to answer regardless of his mood. He pulled the slim device from his jacket pocket, his thumb swiping across the surface.

"King Calix speaking."

"Well, hello there, Your Majesty!" The voice that greeted him carried warmth and cheer so abundant it felt like sunshine after months of storm clouds. "This is Gerri Wilder. I got your contact information from your second-in-command, Ryx. Lovely man, that one. Absolutely devoted to you, though I suspect you already know that."

Calix's grip tightened on the communicator as he resumed climbing, each step deliberate. The woman's tone held an undercurrent of mischief that set his teeth on edge—too bright, too confident, too much like someone who believed the universe bent to her will rather than the other way around.

"Yes, I was informed you might be calling," he said, his voice carrying the controlled authority that had become second nature. "That is, if you found a solution to our problem here in Ashvorn."

"Oh, honey, I think I found the perfect solution to your problems." Her laugh tinkled through the speaker like wind chimes, and something in her tone suggested she meant far more than just the medical crisis consuming his territory.

Calix reached the second-floor landing, his patience wearing thin as another day of failure caught up with him. He had no energy for games or riddles when his people were dying. "Explain."

"Well, I found a scientist here on Earth who's quite brilliant, and she seems to be working with a similar illness to your Ash Fever. Quite an uncanny coincidence, really. But sometimes the universe does the strangest things that lead to the most unexpected situations. Divine timing, I like to call it."

His jaw clenched as he continued up the final flight toward his private quarters. Divine timing. As if the universe gave a damn about timing when dragons were burning alive from the inside out, when families were burying their loved ones, when his entire territory lived in fear.

"What is her name and what exactly can she do?" The words came out sharper than intended, but Calix had lost the ability to soften his edges months ago.

"Well, her name is Arvid—I didn't catch her last name, but like I said, she's a brilliant scientist. Former military, if you can believe that. Tough as nails and twice as smart. And I think she can help you figure out this outbreak of yours, dear."

Former military. Something in Calix's chest shifted at those words, a recognition he couldn't name. Someone who understood duty, sacrifice, the weight of impossible choices.

"When can she get here?" The question escaped before he could examine why he suddenly felt something dangerously close to hope.

"Oh, she already agreed to be there tomorrow morning." Gerri's voice practically sparkled with satisfaction. "So, I'll bring her through the wormhole and meet you at your estate. Say, ten o'clock? That work for you, Your Majesty?"

Tomorrow. The speed of it should have alarmed him—no preparation time, no background checks, no opportunity to establish protocols. Instead, something deep in his chest loosened. Help was coming. Actual, qualified help.

"Very well. I will see you then."

"Wonderful! Oh, and Calix?" Her tone shifted, becoming almost maternal despite her obvious delight. "Trust me on this one, dear. Sometimes the best solutions come in the most unexpected packages."

The call ended with a soft click, leaving Calix staring at the dark screen as he reached the top floor of Ashspire. His private quarters occupied the entire level—bedroom, sitting area, office, and bathroom spreading across the space with understated luxury that came from generations of royal occupancy. Tall windows dominated the far wall, offering an unobstructed view of Ashvorn below and the massive silhouette of the Caldran volcano beyond.

He moved to those windows now, his reflection ghostlike in the glass as he looked out over his territory. The city spread beneath him in familiar patterns of light and shadow, but tonight even the warm glow from pyrestone buildings felt muted. Somewhere down there, in the medical facilities of the Hearthring district, Dorn and his team were fighting another losing battle against an enemy they couldn't understand.

His dragon pressed against his skin with sudden, fierce urgency. The great beast had been restless for months, agitated by the crisis, but this felt different. Electric. As if some fundamental shift in the world's balance was approaching.

Soon, the dragon seemed to whisper, though Calix couldn't make sense of the word.

Of course soon, he reasoned. A potential solution to the outbreak. Someone with the expertise they desperately needed. His dragon's restlessness was probably just a response to the possibility of finally having answers, finally being able to protect his people the way a king should.

But the dragon pushed harder. Ours.

Calix's hands clenched into fists. Not this. Not now. He'd spent fifteen years managing those instincts, pushing down the primal drive that demanded he find his fated mate. He'd built a life around duty and sacrifice, accepting that some hungers would remain forever unfulfilled because his people's needs came first.

Romance was a luxury he couldn't afford. Love was a weakness that could compromise his judgment. And a fated mate? That was an unwelcome improbability that would unravel everything he'd built and everything he'd become. The kind of all-consuming bond that could make a king forget his responsibilities, the way his father had sometimes forgotten the world existed when he looked at Calix's mother.

He turned from the window and stalked toward his bathroom, needing the shock of cold water to clear his head. The space was carved from the same pyrestone as the rest of Ashspire, all clean lines and natural warmth, but tonight it felt like a prison. Everything felt like a prison when his mind started wandering down paths he'd forbidden himself to explore.

The massive shower occupied one corner, large enough for his tall frame with multiple heads that could deliver everything from gentle mist to punishing pressure. He stripped off his clothes with efficient movements, letting them fall where they would, then stepped under the spray and turned the temperature as cold as the system would allow.

The shock of it hit him like a physical blow, driving the breath from his lungs and the heat from his skin. This was what he needed—clarity, focus, the ability to think past the restless energy that had been building all evening.

Tomorrow would bring a scientist. A professional consultation. A chance to finally understand what was killing his people. Nothing more.