Where There’s Smoke

The air in Ashvine was heavier than usual, the heat oppressive even under the shade of the lattice-covered walkways. Lyra wiped sweat from her brow as she adjusted a section of the irrigation system, her hands fumbling with the worn connectors. The plants around her—vital to Ashvine’s precarious self-sufficiency—wilted in the relentless heat.

Meera’s voice came from behind, calm but firm. “Leave it. We have bigger problems.”

Lyra turned, squinting at her mentor. Meera’s face was shadowed by the broad brim of her hat, but her expression left no room for debate.

“What’s wrong?” Lyra asked, setting the connector down reluctantly.

Meera nodded toward the horizon, where a faint, dark smear marred the sky. It took Lyra a moment to process what she was seeing.

“Smoke?” she breathed.

“It’s not close yet, but it’s moving fast,” Meera said. Her voice carried a rare edge of urgency. “We need to get to the Archive before it gets any worse.”

Lyra hesitated, glancing back at the irrigation system and the drying crops. “What about—”

“Ashvine will hold for now,” Meera interrupted. “The Archive won’t. Not if it’s exposed to this.”

Lyra swallowed her protest and nodded. Meera was already moving, her stride purposeful.