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A Dance of Ash and Steel (6/ )

Pairing: Oc!Elara x Eris Vanserra

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: Elara and Eris start their search for the missing female before it’s too late.

Warnings: threats of violence, snarky comments

A Dance of Ash and Steel series: Previous

A/N: ugh I love this series. But I’m also currently hyperfixated on The Hunger Games and Fourth Wing so I will come back to this when I can <3

~~~~~~

Eris was already waiting when Elara arrived the following morning. Their agreed time had run out.

She stepped onto the overlook where they had agreed to meet, the early morning mist curling at her feet, tendrils of cool air brushing against her skin. The sky was still painted in the soft blues and purples of dawn, the rising sun just beginning to stain the horizon with hints of gold. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves in a sound that was both soothing and foreboding, as if the land itself knew something was coming.

Eris stood near the edge, his back straight, posture loose but deceptively controlled—always the same with him. A man who feigned ease but measured every movement, every breath. His long, red hair gleamed in the early light, shifting slightly in the wind, the sharp angles of his face set in an unreadable expression.

He could’ve been carved from the very stone beneath his feet, as unmoving and unyielding as the cliffs themselves.

His gaze flicked to hers as she approached.

“You’re late,” he drawled.

Elara rolled her eyes. “By two minutes.”

“Two minutes that could mean life or death,” he countered smoothly, arms crossing over his chest. His golden eyes flickered, a subtle challenge hidden beneath the amusement in his voice.

She snorted. “Dramatic much?”

Eris only smirked, but there was something sharper behind it, something that told her he was just as eager to get moving as she was.

Without another word, he stepped closer, reaching for her.

She barely resisted the instinct to flinch when his fingers wrapped around her wrist—warm, solid. A tether she still wasn’t used to. Her body tensed involuntarily, a muscle-deep reaction she hadn’t quite shaken, even after all this time. His presence, his touch, the way he invaded her space like he had every right to it—it grated against her instincts.

But she swallowed it down, steeling herself as his other hand settled lightly at her waist.

“Hold on, Birdie,” he murmured.

She bristled at the nickname, her glare sharp enough to cut—but before she could snap at him, the world twisted and collapsed around them.

The wind howled as Eris pulled them through the space between realms, the crushing, disorienting sensation of winnowing settling deep in Elara’s bones. It was a strange, stomach-twisting thing, like being flung through the air and yanked back at the same time. She had done it before, but something about the way he did it—fast, efficient, as if he barely had to think about it—left her feeling even more unsteady than usual.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

Elara sucked in a breath, steadying herself as her boots hit solid ground. She always hated winnowing. She hated the way the world around her warped and shifted. She hated how disorienting it all was. She much preferred flying. But Eris, being the absolute princess he was. Absolutely refused to travel any other way.

Though she admitted it was faster to travel to the outlining villages of the Court, she didn’t like the way she had to touch him to do it. She hated how he smirked when she gripped his arm, and practically threw it away from her once she could. Hated the way he smirked. Hated it all.

Around them, the dim glow of dawn bathed the quiet village in soft golds and purples. It was a modest place, tucked into the valleys of the Night Court’s lesser-populated territories. The buildings were simple but sturdy, built from dark stone and carved wood. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, the scent of fresh bread and morning fires drifting on the crisp air.

She rolled her shoulders, adjusting to the new location, before giving Eris a sharp look. “Next time, warn me before you drag me through space, Vanserra.”

He only smirked, entirely unaffected. “I figured you could handle it, Birdie.”

She glared at him, but he was already scanning the village, his smirk fading into something more calculating.

They were here for answers. Okay, maybe not answers. But at least a decent place to start.

Elara inhaled deeply, trying to sort through the scents carried on the wind. The one they were looking for—she didn’t know what she would smell like, but she knew what she wanted to find. Magic. Fear. Something that stood out.

Nothing immediately jumped at her.

Eris had already started moving, his steps purposeful as he approached the nearest cluster of buildings. “We’ll start with the inn,” he murmured. “Travelers talk, and coin tends to loosen lips.”

Elara fell into step beside him, instinctively scanning the streets. A few villagers were already out, setting up stalls or preparing for the day, their wary gazes flickering toward them before quickly looking away. Not unusual. Even in a court as vast as Rhysand’s, two well-dressed strangers appearing out of thin air would always draw suspicion.

She leaned in slightly, voice low. “What exactly are we asking? We can’t just go around demanding if anyone’s seen a runaway female with power.”

Eris hummed, his expression giving away nothing. “We’re not looking for her directly. We’re looking for trouble.”

Elara arched a brow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Trouble finds us wherever we go. You especially, Vanserra,”

A flicker of amusement crossed his features before he elaborated. “If she’s here—or if she’s been here—someone will have noticed. Strange occurrences. Missing people. Unexplained power. Energy. If she’s hiding, she’s either doing it well or she’s making mistakes. Either way, someone will know something. It’ll help give us somewhere else to start.

Elara considered that as they reached the inn’s entrance. A dingy two-story, rickety building. The wooden sign above the entrance swayed slightly in the breeze, the paint worn but still legible: The Crescent Hearth.

Eris pushed the door open without hesitation, the scent of roasted meat and ale greeting them as they stepped inside. The inn wasn’t large, but it was well-kept, a handful of tables scattered across the main room. A few patrons lingered near the bar, while a tired-looking innkeeper wiped down a counter.

Elara caught the way conversations dipped the moment they walked in. They were being watched. Measured. She wouldn’t doubt that word of their arrival would spread fast. They had to work faster.

She leaned against the doorway, letting Eris take the lead as he strode toward the innkeeper, all easy confidence.

Elara didn’t miss the way the older male straightened slightly, as if sensing that this was not a male he wanted to offend. Smart. For once.

Eris offered a practiced, easy smile, his stance relaxed—but not careless. “Quiet night?” he asked, voice smooth, as if they were nothing more than weary travelers making conversation.

The innkeeper’s sharp gaze flicked over him, then to Elara, assessing. “Depends on what you call quiet,” he said gruffly, wiping down the counter.

Eris nodded as if he understood, glancing around the dimly lit tavern. “Place like this must hear all kinds of things,” he mused, voice casual. “Stories, rumors. Some worth ignoring, some worth remembering.” He let the words settle, watching the innkeeper’s reaction. “And sometimes, those stories are worth something to the right ears.”

The innkeeper’s hand stilled on the cloth. Suspicion flickered across his face, but so did interest. After a moment’s hesitation, he exhaled and jerked his head toward a door in the back. “If you want to talk, best do it in there. Too many ears out here.”

Eris didn’t move right away. Instead, he studied the man, as if weighing whether to trust him. Then, with a glance at Elara—a silent signal to stay sharp—he stepped forward.

Elara scanned the room once more, noting every exit, every glance that lingered too long, before following.

The back room of the inn was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small, flickering lantern mounted on the wall. The scent of old wood and pipe smoke lingered in the air, along with the faintest trace of something metallic—perhaps spilled ale or something less innocent.

The innkeeper shut the door behind them and gestured to a small table in the center of the room. “You want information,” he said gruffly, settling into the chair with a weary sigh. “I might have some.”

Eris didn’t sit. He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back in that effortless way that made him look like he belonged in a throne room rather than some dingy tavern. Elara, on the other hand, slid into the seat across from the innkeeper, her sharp eyes studying his face, watching for any sign of deception, her wings tucked tight behind her.

The old male leaned forward slightly, as if he were about to impart some great secret. “Few nights ago,” he began, voice low, “there was… an incident. Something unnatural.”

Eris arched a brow. “Go on.” He said, his voice bored as ever.

The innkeeper’s fingers drummed against the table. “Couple of my regulars said they saw something—said there was this girl in the village square late at night. Said she wasn’t from around here. Young, traveling alone.” He hesitated, then leaned in a fraction more. “They claimed she was glowing.”

Elara blinked. “Glowing?” She asked. Not in surprise, but almost as if clarifying in pure bored disbelief.

“Aye.” He nodded. “Said she had power spilling off her in waves, and the air around her shimmered like starlight. But by the time anyone tried to get close, she was gone.”

Elara exchanged a look with Eris.

It wasn’t impossible. She’d seen magic manifest in strange ways before. But something about this wasn’t right. It was almost too easy.

Eris tilted his head slightly. “Why didn’t you report this?”

The innkeeper’s lips twisted into something bitter. “Report it? And bring the High Lord’s attention down on my village? We don’t need that kind of trouble. It’s not like he spends much time with the concerns of villages like our own. ‘Sides, the girl disappeared. If she wanted to be found, she would’ve stuck around.”

A reasonable enough excuse. And yet—

Elara frowned, trying to piece it together. It sounded… almost too convenient.

She could feel Eris studying the innkeeper just as closely as she was.

He hummed, his tone light but laced with quiet authority. “And these regulars of yours—would they be willing to speak with us?”

The innkeeper hesitated. A flicker of something passed over his face before he quickly masked it. “No,” he said. “One left town. The other won’t talk to strangers.”

Liar.

Elara’s jaw tightened, but she forced her expression to remain neutral. The innkeeper was hiding something—whether it was out of fear, greed, or simply to throw them off, she wasn’t sure.

Eris exhaled, clearly arriving at the same conclusion. But he didn’t call the male out on it. Not yet. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a few gold coins, setting them on the table with a quiet clink.

“For your trouble,” he said smoothly.

The innkeeper snatched up the coins with practiced efficiency, his fingers closing around them like a starving man clutching his last meal.

Eris only smiled. “If you think of anything else, we’ll be staying in the village for a while.”

The male nodded quickly, his shoulders easing now that the conversation was ending. “Of course.”

Eris turned for the door, and Elara followed. But as she passed the innkeeper, she paused just long enough to murmur, “If you’re lying to us, we will find out.”

The way his throat bobbed as he swallowed told her all she needed to know.

Then she was striding after Eris, stepping back out into the cool morning air.

Elara waited until the door shut behind them before saying, “He’s full of shit.”

Eris crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think?”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Either he’s covering for someone, or he’s trying to send us in the wrong direction. Or just making a quick coin,”

Eris considered that. “So what now?”

Elara didn’t answer right away as they left the inn and went back outside. She glanced around the village square, eyes scanning the streets, the rooftops, as if something might reveal itself to her. The sun slowly creeping over the hills and tree tops surrounding the outlying village.

Then, finally, Elara said, “Now we find out what he didn’t tell us.” She nodded towards the village center, where the merchants were finishing setting up their stalls for the day. If talk were to happen, this would be the place.

The market was bustling with activity, the sun rising higher in the sky and casting a soft golden glow over the village. Merchants were setting up their stalls, the vibrant colors of fruit and vegetables mixing with the earthy smells of fresh bread and roasted meats. The air was thick with the sounds of bartering and laughter, punctuated by the occasional shout of a merchant calling out the quality of their goods.

Elara and Eris had chosen to split up, both of them scanning the scene for any hint of unusual behavior or whispers that might lead them to something useful. Eris had winnowed out of sight, slipping away into the shadows of the village while Elara meandered through the market, her wings folded against her back and her gaze sharp.

As she moved from stall to stall, she admired the simple wares and exchanged polite pleasantries with the merchants. She asked questions about travel, about the weather, and even about the state of the road to the neighboring villages. She kept it casual, her words light, but her mind was working quickly, analyzing the faces of everyone she spoke to.

“Anything I should avoid around here?” she asked one vendor selling brightly-colored scarves, leaning slightly over the stall as if she were genuinely interested in the goods. “I’m just passing through, but I’d hate to end up in a spot of trouble.”

The woman behind the counter raised an eyebrow but smiled warmly. “Ah, well, we’ve had some strange folks wandering through of late, travelers and all that. Nothing dangerous, but I’d keep clear of the forest path that runs along the far end of the village. Strange happenings,”

“Strange happenings?” Elara repeated, pressing for more.

The woman lowered her voice, leaning forward. “Some say it’s the old ruins, something lingering there. But I believe it is just bandits praying on travelers for a coin or anything with a shine. If you’re traveling, I’d steer clear of that area, especially at night.”

Elara nodded, her interest piqued, but she didn’t linger too long. The woman had no more information that was of immediate use. Bandits or raiders weren’t new or helpful. Elara had learned what she needed. She walked away, her eyes scanning the crowd as she moved deeper into the market.

The scent of spice and fresh bread curled through the air, mingling with the sharper tang of burning oil from the lantern stalls. Vendors called out their wares, their voices rising above the hum of conversation and the clatter of hooves on stone. She let herself slip into the rhythm of it, letting the noise and movement settle her mind.

But as she passed the pottery stall again, something about the delicate, cracked vase the woman had been holding caught her attention. It had a beauty to it—fragile yet detailed, the kind of craftsmanship that spoke of years of skill and patience. She turned back toward the stall.

“I don’t suppose you made that vase yourself, did you?” Elara asked, her tone light but curious.

The woman looked up from the work in her hands, her frail eyes blinking as if surprised by the question. “Aye, I did,” she rasped, her hands trembling as she placed the vase down, almost protectively. “Been working clay since I was a girl.”

Elara nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s beautiful. The design, the cracks… it’s like it tells a story,”

The woman’s eyes softened as she looked at the vase, and that’s when Elara felt the air shift. Something in the woman’s gaze had changed—darker, sharper, as if she was no longer seeing the pottery but something deeper.

Elara had seen war. Had been covered in blood, had walked through the aftermath of battles, her ears ringing with the screams of the dying. She had stood before things darker than nightmares and walked away unscathed.

And yet—this old woman, with her shaking hands and hollowed-out eyes, sent something cold trickling down her spine. Sent her wings shifting. Goosebumps rising on her skin.

It wasn’t fear. No, not fear. It was something worse—recognition.

The woman’s eyes were too clear, too knowing, as they flicked over Elara’s face. And though Elara played it cool, her face impassive, something coiled tight in her chest.

“It’s not the pottery you need to worry about, girl.”

Elara kept her breathing steady. Didn’t flinch, didn’t shift, even as the woman’s voice—rasping and dry—curled around her like smoke. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she replied evenly.

The woman’s fingers clenched around the vase she held, the fine cracks in the clay deepening with the force of it. Her mouth moved, forming words too quickly, too feverishly.

“The skies will darken, and the light will falter. The lost one will return, and when the shadow falls upon you, you will know who you are meant to be. The chains will break, the bond will form—he will be your salvation, and the end of everything.”

Elara’s heart thudded, slow and heavy.

The bond. The chains. The end of everything.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Yet, the world suddenly felt… off-kilter. Like she was standing on the edge of a precipice and the ground beneath her feet was beginning to give way.

Elara stayed perfectly still, her soldier’s instincts keeping her rooted. But the air around her felt thick now, pressing against her lungs, against her ribs.

And then the woman lunged.

Her gnarled fingers locked around Elara’s wrist, pulling her forward with a strength that shouldn’t belong to someone so frail.

Elara’s other hand twitched toward a blade that sat on her waist. But she couldn’t cause a scene. She couldn’t hurt this old female. But something about her instinctively told her she wasn’t just an old female. Not with the way she looked at Elara.

The woman’s fingers were like ice, her grip trembling but unyielding. Her breath fanned against Elara’s skin as she leaned in, her eyes wide and wild, pupils blown out like a starless sky.

“You must know the truth,” she whispered. “It’s already written. The skies are shifting, child. Beware—beware of what’s coming for you. It will change it all. The power. I will save or kill us all,”

A storm churned in the woman’s gaze, something ancient and untethered, and it unnerved Elara in a way she hadn’t felt since she was a child, curled beneath a tattered blanket in a war-camp, listening to the wind howl like a dying thing.

Elara should’ve yanked her wrist away. Should’ve shoved the woman back, done something.

But she didn’t.

Because—deep down—she wasn’t sure she wanted to break the grip.

“Mother!”

The shout cracked through the market like a whip.

Elara snapped back to herself, stepping away just as a broad-shouldered male rushed forward. He grabbed the woman’s arm, his grip firm but careful, and gently pulled her away.

The woman’s fingers slid from Elara’s wrist. Cold lingered in their wake.

“I’m so sorry,” the male said quickly, his face flushing with embarrassment. “She’s… not well. She speaks nonsense most days.” His voice softened, lined with frustration, but also with sorrow. “Please, forgive her.”

Elara barely heard him.

The woman was still staring at her, muttering under her breath, though her words had lost their shape, dissolving into nonsense. But her eyes—those dark, haunted eyes—never left Elara’s face.

“It’s alright,” Elara managed, forcing a tight smile, though she wasn’t sure anything was alright.

The son nodded, guiding the old woman away. She went without protest, her head tipping back toward the sky, her whispers trailing behind her like a ghost’s touch.

Elara took a slow breath. Then another.

Her fingers flexed at her sides. Her wings twitched involuntarily.

She should shake it off. Walk away. Forget about it.

But the woman’s words echoed in her skull, sinking their claws in deep.

Eris spotted Elara slowly walking, eyes distant, and sighed dramatically. He pushed his way through the crowd toward her, his steps deliberate and mocking as he finally called out, “Birdie, What’s going on? You look like someone just took your favorite dagger away,”

His head tilted and his eyes narrowing at her when she didn’t seem to responds. With his eyebrows furrowed, he tried again, “Elara?”

She snapped back to attention at the sound of her name. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she forced herself to focus.

“What?” she muttered, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “Did you find anything useful?”

Eris raised a brow, crossing his arms and leaning in slightly, as if inspecting her. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve been standing there like you’re waiting for an inspiration from the broken pot there,” he said, nodding towards the cracked vase the woman had been holding.

Elara’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond to the jabs. Instead, she waved her hand dismissively, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort gnawing at her chest. “I didn’t find anything useful. Some ramblings about raiders, but that’s nothing new. We should move on from this town.”

Eris sighed a bit as he nodded, putting his hands into his front pockets, “So no cryptic clues, no hidden treasures, no obscure prophecies about this female’s inevitable rise to world domination?” His voice dripped with feigned disappointment. “What a letdown. And here I was hoping to get something out of this.”

Elara couldn’t suppress the roll of her eyes. “You know how it is. People love to talk, but it’s all useless chatter. We’ve spent enough time here.”

Eris snorted. “You’re telling me. At this rate, the only thing we’ll be leaving with is a headache from all the nonsense. Lead the way, then, little bird,”

Despite the sarcasm, there was a certain edge to his words—maybe not concern, but something close to it. Elara’s discomfort hadn’t gone unnoticed, even if he wasn’t about to admit it.

“Right behind you,” Elara muttered, setting off toward the edge of town, ready to put the strange encounter behind her. She could feel Eris following, the weight of his gaze on her back, but she refused to acknowledge it. She had enough to deal with than to worry about his snide remarks.

Still, the words of the old woman continued to echo in her mind, wrapping tighter around her thoughts with every step she took. And she couldn’t help but turn it over and over in her mind.

What in the Cauldron’s name did it all mean?

“He will be your salvation, and the end of everything.”

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