The smelter thrummed with heat as Lynn’s crew forged the Starlight Engine’s new frame, steel plates locking tight around the glowing core. Ella’s ember fed the fire, steady and fierce, while Lyra’s crystals pulsed, channeling the energy into a low, relentless hum. Kael hammered rods into place, his wind gusts cooling the seams, and Thorn bent metal with bare hands, his grunts echoing off the walls. Ashhold’s horns blared closer—hunting horns now, not warnings—and Lynn knew time was bleeding out.

  “Faster,” he said, fitting a wheel to the frame—crude, scavenged, but it rolled. His visions burned clear: a beast of steel and fire, alive. “They’re coming.”

  “Too soon,” Ella said, her voice tight. “This thing’s half-done.”

  “Half’s enough,” Lynn said, gripping a bar. “It moves, it fights—we’ve got a chance.”

  Thorn rapped the wheel, grinning. “Teeth?”

  “Sharp ones,” Lynn said, adrenaline surging. “Kael, Lyra—ready?”

  Kael nodded, slinging a sack of scrap. Lyra tucked her crystals close, her eyes sharp. “It’ll hold—for now.”

  A crash split the air—the smelter’s door buckled, wood splintering under a battering ram. Guards poured in, blades flashing, their shouts raw with fury. “Surrender, rats!” one bellowed. “Lords want you alive—barely!”

  Seryn stepped through the breach, her glow pale and cold, hands trembling. “Drop it,” she said, voice cracking. “Please.”

  “No,” Lynn said, stepping forward. “You’re done running, Seryn. Pick.”

  Her eyes darted—guards, crew, the humming engine. “I can’t—”

  “You can!” Lynn roared, bar raised. “Fight or fall!”

  The guards charged, and chaos erupted. Thorn met them head-on, his bar smashing a blade aside, then cracking a skull. Kael’s wind blasted two back, their torches clattering, while Ella’s ember flared into a fireball, scorching a guard’s arm. Lyra hurled a crystal—it burst in a blinding flash, staggering the rest.

  Seryn’s glow spiked—ice lashed out, frosting the floor, and Lynn slipped, crashing hard. “Damn it, Seryn!” he yelled, rolling as a blade slashed down, grazing his coat.

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  “I warned you!” she cried, hands shaking. A guard grabbed her arm—“Finish ‘em!”—and her glow faltered, fear flashing in her eyes.

  Ella lunged, fire streaking toward Seryn, but Lynn tackled her aside. “Wait!” he gasped. “She’s breaking!”

  “Breaking’s too late!” Ella snarled, shoving him off. Her ember blazed, aimed again—then froze. Seryn turned, her ice snapping toward the guard, freezing his arm solid. He screamed, dropping, and she staggered back, glow dimming.

  “Enough!” Seryn shouted, voice raw. “I’m done!”

  The guards hesitated, stunned, and Lynn seized it. “Ella, now—the engine!”

  Ella growled, her fire surging into the core. Lyra jammed a crystal in, and the hum spiked—steel shuddered, wheels spinning, a jet of heat blasting out. It hit the guards square, a roaring wave of smoke and flame, scattering them like leaves. Seryn dove aside, her cloak singed, as the smelter’s walls groaned under the blast.

  “Out!” Lynn yelled, coughing through the haze. The crew bolted, dragging the engine—half-frame, smoking, alive—into the dawn. Guards writhed behind, burned and broken, their shouts fading as Ashhold’s alleys swallowed the team.

  They collapsed by a slag heap, the engine’s wheels grinding to a stop, its core still glowing. Kael laughed, hoarse. “That’s a beast, Greystone!”

  “Teeth and all,” Thorn said, grinning through bloodied knuckles.

  Lyra clutched her coat, crystals intact. “It held—barely.”

  Ella’s ember dimmed, her eyes on Lynn. “You’re lucky I didn’t roast her.”

  “Seryn?” Lynn turned, spotting her shadow—limping, alone, trailing them. “She chose.”

  Seryn stumbled closer, her glow gone, face pale with ash and guilt. “I—I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

  Ella tensed, but Lynn raised a hand. “Why now?”

  Seryn’s jaw tightened. “They killed my brother—years back. Said he was trouble. I thought… loyalty’d keep me safe. It didn’t.”

  “Cracks,” Lynn said, nodding. “Welcome to ours.”

  “Welcome?” Ella snapped. “She’s a liability!”

  “She’s one of us,” Lynn said, firm. “Starborn. Knows their moves. We need her.”

  Seryn met his gaze, hesitant, then nodded—small, broken, but real. “I’ll help. Whatever it takes.”

  Kael smirked. “Snake’s got fangs now.”

  Thorn grunted, unimpressed. “Better not bite us.”

  “She won’t,” Lynn said, hoping he was right. He turned to the engine—scarred, rough, a beast half-born. “This changes everything. They’re hurt, we’re armed. Next step—hit ‘em where they sleep.”

  “The tower?” Lyra asked, eyes wide.

  “Not yet,” Lynn said, his visions roaring—wheels, fire, a growl to shake the sky. “We grow this—make it unstoppable. Then the tower falls.”

  Ella’s ember steadied. “You’re still crazy.”

  “Crazy’s winning,” Lynn said, a grin breaking through. The crew stood—ragged, bloodied, six now—around their smoking beast. Ashhold’s horns droned, the tower’s red glare burning bright, but Lynn felt it—cracks spreading, ash shifting. The Flame Lords were waking to a fight they didn’t expect.

  “Move,” he said, pointing west. “Smelter’s done—we find a new hole. Build bigger.”

  They hauled the engine, its wheels crunching gravel, Seryn trailing like a ghost. Lynn’s chest burned—not just from smoke, but fire—his fire, their fire. The spark was a blaze now, tearing through the dark, and it wouldn’t stop ‘til it consumed everything in its path.