maya-no-more

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC: Chapter Four - Obsidian

Darkness pressed in from all sides.

Ember’s head throbbed, a dull, pulsing ache radiating from the base of her skull. The air was thick with the scent of oil, metal, and something sickly sweet—something chemical. Her fingers twitched against cold steel, and as her senses slowly returned, she registered the weight of restraints biting into her wrists.

She was bound.

Her breath sharpened as she forced her eyes open. Blinding light seared her vision before it settled into a dim, flickering glow. The room was unfamiliar—sterile, clinical. The kind of place where things went to be broken.

Then she heard it. A giggle. High-pitched, lilting, twisted at the edges.

No.It could not be.

She turned her head, and her stomach dropped.

Powder—no, not Powder. Jinx.

The girl in front of her was not the one she remembered. No wide, innocent eyes. No timid, nervous smile. Instead, there was something manic in her expression, a wild kind of glee as she twirled a pistol around her finger, perched on a metal table like she did not have a care in the world. Her blue braids swayed as she tilted her head, examining Ember like a specimen in a jar.

"Well, well, well," Jinx purred. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Ember could not speak. Could not breathe. Seven years. Seven years of chasing ghosts, of searching the depths of Zaun, of clinging to the desperate hope that somehow, someway, Powder was still out there. But this was not Powder. This was someone else entirely.

"You’re real," Ember finally choked out.

Jinx’s grin twitched, her fingers tightening around the pistol. "Ding, ding, ding! Give the girl a prize!" She hopped off the table, boots clicking against the floor as she sauntered closer. "Didn’t think I’d ever see your sorry ass again. Not after you up and vanished." Her voice darkened, the playfulness laced with venom. "Guess you got bored and decided to crawl back?"

"I never stopped looking for you." The words spilled out before Ember could stop them.

Jinx froze. Then, she laughed—sharp, cruel. "Oh, that’s rich. You? Looking for me? Cute. Real cute." She leaned in, close enough that Ember could see the way her pupils dilated. "Too bad you didn’t look hard enough."

Ember pulled at her restraints, jaw clenched.

"I—"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Jinx wagged a painted finger before pressing it to Ember's lips. "I don’t really care what you have to say. You left, Em. Just like Vi. Just like everyone else." Her voice wavered, just for a second, but then she was back to smiling, back to pretending it didn't hurt. "But don’t worry! Silco’s got plans for you. Big ones. So you and me? We’re gonna have so much fun."

A door scraped open behind Jinx, and Ember went rigid as heavy footsteps echoed into the room. She didn't have to look to know who it was.

Silco.

He stepped into view, calm, composed, a glass vial of something black swirling between his fingers. His one good eye gleamed in the dim light, and his ruined one remained unblinking as he watched her.

"You should be honored, Silvertip," he said smoothly. "Not many get a second chance after disappointing me. But I see potential in you. I see something greater."

Ember gritted her teeth. "I’m not your soldier."

"Not yet." Silco smirked. "But you will be."

Jinx giggled again, rocking back on her heels. "Oh, this is the best part. You’re gonna love this. Well, not really, but I will."

Silco held up the vial, the black liquid inside catching the light like ink. "This," he explained, "is something new. Something better than Shimmer. Stronger. Purer. The key to absolute obedience."

The blood in Ember’s veins turned to ice.

"You can fight," Silco continued, "but you’ll lose. And when you wake, there will be no more wavering loyalties, no more questions—just action."

Ember’s breathing turned shallow as he stepped aside, revealing the figure standing behind him.

A man, if you could call him that. The bottom half of his face was concealed by tattered cloth, doing a poor job of masking his scarred, gaunt complexion. He was spindly and looked as though he was one stubbed toe away from death. However, there was a cold, calculated, terrifyingly intelligent air about him.

The scientist moved with quiet precision, holding a long, gleaming needle between his fingers. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, grasping Ember’s jaw in an iron grip and wrenching her head painfully to the side.

"Meet Obsidian," Silco murmured. "Your new master."

Before Ember could twist away, the needle plunged deep into her neck.

A searing, molten agony exploded through her veins. It was unlike anything she has ever felt—liquid fire pouring through her bloodstream, scorching every nerve. Her body convulsed, spine arching violently as black tendrils raced beneath her skin, coiling around her limbs, her throat, her eyes. A strangled scream ripped from her throat, raw and primal, but there was no mercy, no reprieve.

Jinx watched, wide-eyed with fascination as Ember’s breathing turned ragged and the veins beneath her skin darkened like cracks in porcelain.

Silco exhaled slowly, pleased. "Now," he said, voice dripping with satisfaction, "let’s begin."

Vi's childhood home was a ruin, a twisted monument to their shattered past. Vi leans against a crumbling wall, her side searing in agony. She presses a hand to the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but it seeps between her fingers, staining her skin crimson.

Caitlyn… She has to wait for Caitlyn. It's her only chance.

Her mind drifts, flickering between the present pain and the ghosts of the past. Ember. She saw her. After all these years, she is alive. But something is wrong. She is different. Cold. Empty.

Stay dead, Vi. Her words echo in Vi’s mind, sharp and cruel. What happened to her? What did Zaun do to her?

Her head lolls back against the concrete, her breath ragged. She has to stay awake. Has to wait for Caitlyn.

Her thoughts drift again, back to Ember. Those eyes… They were so cold, so empty. It was like looking at a stranger. But deep down, Vi knows it was her. The girl she grew up with, the girl she loved.

What happened to you, Ember? The question echoes in her mind, a desperate plea for answers. 

She drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain in her side a constant reminder of her vulnerability. She can’t afford to be weak. Not now. Not when Ember is out there, somewhere, lost in the darkness.

Finally, she hears footsteps. Caitlyn. She is back.

Caitlyn rushes to her side, her face etched with concern. Her movements are swift and efficient as she uncorks a small vial filled with a shimmering purple liquid. Without a word, she gently lifts Vi’s chin, sets the glass against her lips and pours the concoction into her mouth.

The liquid burns as it goes down, a searing heat that spreads through Vi’s veins. She gasps, her body convulsing as the Shimmer takes hold. The pain subsides, replaced instead by an odd surge of energy. She feels stronger, faster. But there is a darkness there too, a primal rage that simmers beneath the surface.

Suddenly, a sound, just outside the building. It could’ve easily been dismissed as the wind or a bird, but Vi isn’t so stupid as to take her chances.

She bursts through the door, Caitlyn close behind her. 

There he stands, surrounded by pleading shimmer addicts, the toxic purple glow emanating from the vials in his hands illuminating their hungry faces. 

“Vander’s prodigy,” Silco purrs, an unsettling lilt present in his otherwise gravelly voice.

In that moment, the world seems to turn off. This man - no, this monster, who singlehandedly destroyed the lives of her and countless others, is simply stood there, mere feet away, fucking smiling.

Vi can see his wrinkled lips move. She can see the people curled at his feet snatching the vials from his grasp, gulping it down like air before contorting into monstrous, veiny, humanoids. She can see them inching towards her, shimmer-laced drool dripping from their open mouths. She can see everything, yet all sound vanishes as it reaches her ears.

She is swallowed by rage, grief and worst of all, guilt. It consumes her from the inside out, slowly chipping away until whatever's left of her finally shatters.

“You talk too much.” 

With that, Vi turns, and with one powerful punch, she strikes one of the support beams holding up the already weakened structure. The force sends cracks splintering up through the wood, the sound echoing down through the valley.

The building groans, teetering on the edge of collapse. And it does. Vi grabs Caitlyn’s hand, pulling her towards a gaping hole in the wall. They scramble through the opening just as the rest of the building collapses, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

They stumble away from the wreckage, coughing and gasping for breath. Vi looks back at the collapsed building and the flickering of the massive green eye that once perched on top of it. Her heart is pounding. They had made it out just in time.

As the dust finally settles and the pair are about to make their escape, Vi catches a glimpse of a silhouette standing off in the distance. Tall, cloaked in shadows. She can't see their face, but then a glint of light catches her eye. Silver. A necklace. The necklace she had gifted someone long ago after snagging it from some Piltovan woman’s jewelry box.

Her heart stops. It's her. Ember.

But something isn’t quite right. Something about her stance, her posture… it is harsher, more distant. Even from here, Vi can feel the change. It is dangerous.

“Vi, we have to go!” Caitlyn urges, pulling on her arm.

Vi hesitates, her gaze fixed on Ember. She wants to call out to her, to run to her. But something holds her back. A sense of unease, a feeling that she is looking at a stranger.

Caitlyn pulls her away, and Vi reluctantly follows, her eyes still fixed on Ember. As they disappear into the maze of Zaun’s underbelly, Vi turns back one last time. Ember is still there, watching them. And in the flickering light wreckage, Vi's spots something that freezes her to the spot.

Ember’s eyes, once a wonderful hazel, full of life and curiosity, are consumed by black. Her hands, those warm hands she used to hold while jumping across rooftops or watch while they aptly cleaned her bow, aren’t really hands at all. Instead, they're mechanical now, made of cold, lifeless metal. Vi can see the crude junction of steel and skin, where human turns to machine, and she feels something inside herself break. When had that happened? How could she not have noticed it in the warehouse?

But, for a split second, as the green light flashes a bit brighter, Vi notices the worst sight of all.

Gruesome black stitches lacing Ember’s lips shut. 

WC: ~1500 words

A/N: oopsies i got carried away again. not much for me to say rn tbh other than jeez that was intense. ember's really not having a great time right now lmfao. anyhoo, it might take me a bit to figure out where to go with this story next... (who am i kidding, i'll probably release the next chapter tomorrow) oh well.

seeya in the next one~~

♥♥♥ maya_no_more

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC: Chapter Three - Reckoning

The air in the warehouse was stale, thick with dust and the ghosts of memories Vi had long since buried. She ran a wrapped hand along the edge of a broken wooden crate, its surface splintered with age. It had been years since she last stepped foot in this place. The old hideout. Back then, it had been their sanctuary, a haven where five kids could dream of a better future, even if it was just a fantasy. Now, it was nothing but a tomb for what they had lost.

She exhaled, watching as her breath curled in the dim light filtering through the broken ceiling. Her fingers traced the jagged edge of an old metal pipe sticking out from the wall—the very same one she and Mylo had fought over who could climb fastest. She could still hear their laughter, still feel the warmth of a time when things were simple.

Now? Nothing was simple. Vi still had work to do. She had just dropped Caitlyn off at the brothel, where she had just been gathering intel from the madame. But she needed a moment. A pause. Before heading to the Last Drop to confront Sevika, she had to come here, to remind herself why she was fighting.

She stepped further into the warehouse, boots echoing against the concrete floor. Every inch of this place carried a ghost. A shadow of what could have been. Of the sister Vi once was, the leader she had tried to be.

She leaned against one of the rusted support beams and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of oil and decay. It almost smelled the same. Almost. But the warmth was gone. The laughter. The hope.

Then something shifted in the darkness.

Vi’s muscles tensed, her fists clenching instinctively. She wasn’t alone.

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then, a whisper of movement—a shadow separating from the blackness itself.

She barely had time to react before an arrow was drawn, the deadly tip glinting in the dim light.

Vi froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs as her gaze locked onto the archer standing just a few feet away. Tall. Cloaked in darkness. Eyes like green fire.

Something about those eyes…

And then it hit her. Like a freight train, like a punch to the gut.

"No fucking way," she breathed.

The figure did not move. Did not lower the bow. The arrow remained drawn, poised to strike.

"Ember?" Vi’s voice barely registered in her own ears. It felt impossible. Unreal. After all these years, after all the blood and loss, she was standing here. Changed, but unmistakable.

Ember’s expression did not shift. She stood as still as death, the bowstring taut. Her gaze burned with something unreadable. Cold. Calculating.

Vi took a step forward, slowly, cautiously. "It’s you. I—"

The bowstring creaked.

"Don’t," Ember warned, her voice low, sharp as a blade.

Vi stopped. She could see the scars now, crisscrossing Ember’s skin like a map of violence and survival. The warmth in her was gone, replaced by something terrifyingly empty.

"Ember, what the hell happened to you?" Vi asked, her throat tight.

No answer. Only silence.

And then, Ember lowered the bow.

Vi’s breath caught as Ember took a slow step back, retreating into the shadows.

"Stay dead, Vi," she murmured before vanishing.

Silco’s office was a place that smelled of damp stone, ink, and something more insidious—power. The dim light from the desk lamp cast eerie shadows along the walls, distorting the dark wood and steel fixtures. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken threats.

Ember stood before his desk, her posture rigid, her heartbeat steady despite the suffocating atmosphere.

Silco sat in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, fingers tapping against the surface. A cigar burned between his fingers, the tip glowing faintly as he took a slow drag. His good eye studied her with an almost clinical curiosity, while the ruined one, red-rimmed and unblinking, bore into her like a dissecting scalpel.

"Sevika tells me you don’t speak much," he mused, swirling the glass of amber liquid in his other hand. "I prefer that in my employees. Less unnecessary chatter. More results."

Ember didn’t respond. She wasn’t here to talk.

"Did you complete the task?" Silco finally asked, tilting his head slightly.

The words nearly caught in her throat. But she forced them out.

"It’s done," she said evenly.

Silco exhaled a stream of smoke, considering her. His eye narrowed slightly, as if something in her words didn't sit right. "Good. Vi was a loose end. A threat. One I can no longer afford. And you, Silvertip, have proved yourself quite useful."

Ember swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth.

She had lied.

Vi was alive.

And Silco could never know.

"Excellent," Silco said, a blood-curdling smile contorting on his lips. "Sevika will be pleased to—"

The doors burst open.

Sevika stumbled in, gripping her mechanical arm as shimmer spilled from the shattered vial by her shoulder. The air shifted in an instant, thickening with tension. Her eyes found Ember’s instantly, burning with a rage so violent that the usually stoic assassin couldn't help but jolt.

"The sister," Sevika spat, her voice filled with venom. "She’s back."

Silco’s gaze slowly swung back to Ember, the room going deathly silent. Sevika's pained groans were the only sound for a slow, excruciating moment.

Ember didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Silco exhaled another slow stream of smoke through his nose, raising his eyebrows, and Ember could have sworn she saw him glance up at the rafters before growling, "Is that so?"

The walls were closing in. The lie crumbling.

However, before Ember could sputter out a response, something just past her peripheral landed on the floor with a heavy thud, and in a split second, something hard collided with the back of her head, sending an explosion of pain reverberating through her skull. Dots peppered Ember's vision as she felt a warm liquid trickle down the back of her neck, but in the instant before being consumed by the black, she saw something.

Just to her right, a flash of two long, blue braids.

WC: ~1400 words

A/N: yippee! another chapter down! (i might have an issue) i'm getting so excited for this story oml. i hope y'all are having as much fun reading it as i am writing it - although it is pretty depressing lmfaoo. anyhoo, i've got interesting things planned for the next chapter, so stay tuned!!

seeya in the next one~~

♥♥♥ maya_no_more

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC: Chapter Two - Silvertip

Seven years had carved deep lines into Ember’s face, etching a story of survival and loss. The girl who once burned with an untamed fire was now a controlled flame, flickering behind guarded green eyes. Zaun had molded her, sharpened her edges, and taught her the language of shadows. She moved through the undercity like a wraith, a whisper in the rustling chem-fumes, a phantom no one dared to cross.

Her name was spoken only in hushed tones, if at all. They called her "Silvertip," a nod to the deadly accuracy of her arrows, tipped with a neurotoxin that could silence a heartbeat in an instant. The chem-runners, the same breed of vipers she’d once stolen from to survive, now paid her handsomely. They hired her to eliminate rivals, to erase problems, to ensure their lucrative, and often brutal, trade continued uninterrupted. The irony wasn't lost on her. She had come full circle, from hunted to hunter, from survivor to… something else.

Her apartment, if it could be called that, was a cramped space above a grimy workshop. It was sparsely furnished, containing only the essentials: a worn mattress, a small table, a whetstone for her daggers, and a meticulously maintained bow and quiver. The walls were bare, save for a single, faded sketch – a crude drawing of five figures huddled together under a star-strewn sky. It was the only relic of her past she allowed herself to keep.

Ember rarely spoke. When she did, her voice was low and devoid of emotion, a flat monotone that betrayed nothing of the turmoil raging within. She had learned to compartmentalize, to build walls around her heart so high that even she sometimes struggled to remember what lay on the other side. The pain was still there, a dull ache in her chest, a phantom limb that throbbed with every memory. The canning factory, the explosion, the faces of her family – they haunted her dreams, flickering like dying embers in the darkness.

She trained relentlessly, honing her skills with the bow and dagger until they became extensions of herself. Each strike, each draw of the bowstring, was a form of penance, a way to punish herself for surviving when they hadn't. She pushed her body to its limits, embracing the pain, welcoming the burn. It was a distraction, a way to silence the voices in her head.

One night, a particularly nasty chem-runner named Karras hired her to take out a rival dealer who was encroaching on his territory. The target, a hulking brute known as "The Hammer," was rumored to have a dozen guards and a penchant for brutality. Ember accepted the contract without a word. She needed the money, not for herself, but to fund her own investigations. She was searching, always searching, for any trace of Vi, of Powder, of anyone. A fool's errand, perhaps, but it was the only thread of hope she had left.

The Hammer's hideout was a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Zaun. Ember infiltrated the building silently, moving through the shadows like a predator. She dispatched the guards one by one, her movements precise and lethal. Her arrows found their marks with unerring accuracy, silencing her enemies before they even knew she was there. The Hammer, alerted by the commotion, emerged from his office, a massive man with a face like granite. He wielded a sledgehammer the size of a small car, his eyes burning with rage.

"Silvertip," he growled, "I've heard tales of your skill. But you're just one person."

Ember didn't reply. She drew an arrow, her movements fluid and graceful. The arrow sang through the air, finding its mark between The Hammer's eyes before he could even swing his weapon. He crumpled to the ground, his massive frame shaking in its final throes. Ember retrieved her arrow, wiped it clean, and vanished back into the night.

She delivered proof of the kill to Karras, collected her payment, and disappeared without a word. The chem-runners didn't ask questions. They knew better than to pry into Silvertip's affairs. She was a force of nature, a storm that could be unleashed at their whim, but one they feared to provoke.

Word of Silvertip's skills, however, had reached beyond the grimy alleys of the chem-barons. Silco had heard whispers of a ghost in the undercity, a phantom archer who could kill with a whisper. He’d also heard whispers of another ghost, one with pink hair and a volatile temper, rumored to have returned to Zaun. He wanted both ghosts dealt with.

Ember was cleaning her weapons when a shadow fell across her doorway. She tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for a hidden dagger. She wasn’t expecting company.

"Silvertip," a gravelly voice rasped. Sevika. Ember recognized the woman from her brief encounters with Silco. She had a reputation for brutality, even amongst Silco's crew.

"Silco has a proposition for you," Sevika continued, her eyes scanning the room. "A job. One that pays considerably more than dealing with petty chem-runners."

Ember remained silent, her gaze fixed on Sevika. She didn't trust Silco. She didn't trust anyone. But money was money, and she needed it to survive.

"He's heard rumors… rumors of a nuisance," Sevika said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Someone who needs to be… dealt with. Permanently."

Ember hesitated. This felt different. More dangerous. "I work alone," she finally said, her voice flat.

"Silco understands," Sevika replied with a shrug. "He just wants results." She tossed a heavy pouch onto the table. "Consider this a down payment. Don't disappoint him."

Ember eyed the pouch, then Sevika. She didn't like this. Not one bit. But she also knew that refusing Silco was not an option. She nodded curtly. "Tell him I'll take the job."

Sevika smirked. "Wise choice." And with that, she was gone, leaving Ember alone with her misgivings and a growing sense of unease.

Later that day, Sevika returned with a crudely drawn map. "This is where they're hiding out. Silco wants them gone. Quietly."

Ember took the map, her expression unchanged. She didn't ask questions. She never did. She just nodded and turned away, her mind already calculating the best approach. She recognized the location on the map. An old abandoned warehouse near the docks. Somewhere they used to hide out. A shiver ran down her spine, a flicker of unease she hadn't felt in years.

She reached the warehouse at dusk. It was even more dilapidated than she remembered, the windows boarded up, the paint peeling. The air was thick with the smell of damp and decay. She moved silently through the shadows, her senses on high alert. She could hear voices inside, muffled but distinct.

She crept closer to a broken window, peering inside. Her breath caught in her throat. Time seemed to grind to a halt. The world narrowed, focusing on a single figure in the center of the room. Tattooed, muscular, with pink hair and a familiar set to her jaw.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. After all these years, after all the searching, she had finally found her. But it was wrong. So wrong. This wasn't some reunion. This was a hit. She was the hitman. Vi was the target.

The map. Silco. The "nuisance." It all clicked into place, a horrifying realization that made her blood run cold. Silco wanted Vi dead. And he had sent her to do it.

The bow in her hand suddenly felt heavy, alien. Her fingers trembled on the string. She saw Vi laugh, a sound that echoed through the empty warehouse, a sound that had once been so familiar, so comforting. Now, it was a death knell.

Ember’s vision blurred. Memories crashed over her, fragments of a life she thought she had buried. Stolen bread, whispered secrets, shared dreams under the Zaun sky. The explosion. The screams. The loss. The emptiness.

She had spent seven years searching for Vi, clinging to the hope that she was still alive. And now, she had found her. Only to be tasked with killing her.

Her hand tightened on the bowstring. The arrow was poised, ready to strike. But she couldn't. She couldn't.

For the first time in seven years, Ember didn’t know what to do.

WC: ~2,800 words

A/N: woah!! time jump!! oopsies i got a little carried away and wrote two chapters in one day lol. anyhoo, i hope you enjoyed! keep in mind that this is going to be a verrry slow-burn fic, as far as ember and vi's relationship is concerned, cuz i feel like those are just SO much more satisfying. soooo, stay tuned! with how much i'm enjoying writing this so far, and how hot vi is (who said that?!!), i'll likely upload chapter 3 tomorrow lmfao. i hope you have a wonderful day or night, wherever you are!

seeya in the next one~~

♥♥♥ maya_no_more

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC - Chapters

◆ Chapter One - Ember

◆ Chapter Two - Silvertip

◆ Chapter Three - Reckoning

◆ Chapter Four - Obsidian

◆ Chapter Five - Return

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC: Chapter One - Ember

The air in Zaun always smelled of rust and rain. Ember had learned at a young age to breathe through her mouth to avoid the sting of metal on her tongue, but the damp, acrid scent still settled deep into her clothes, her skin. It was the smell of home—the smell of survival, of hunger, of blood.

She was seven the first time she remembered killing a man.

It hadn’t been intentional. He was a chem-runner, sloppy and drunk, reeking of booze and cruelty, and she was a girl with quick hands and a habit of taking what didn’t belong to her. She hadn’t seen the blade in his boot until it was flashing toward her ribs. He would have gutted her—should have gutted her. But she had grabbed the nearest thing, a jagged scrap of metal, and driven it up under his jaw before he could.

She had expected to feel something—remorse, fear, anything—but all she remembered was the heat of his blood spilling over her hands, the way the light faded from his eyes. Then nothing. Just the cold knowledge that, in Zaun, the dead stayed dead, and the living kept moving.

She had pried the coins from his pockets and ran.

No one had come looking for him. No one ever did in the Lanes.

That was the way of things: survive or be forgotten.

She didn’t remember much about her parents.

Her mother had died giving birth to her, or so she’d been told. Her father had been a miner, a giant of a man with hands like iron and a voice like gravel. She remembered the way he used to carry her on his shoulders, how he’d tell her stories about the veins of raw ore that ran like lifeblood beneath Zaun. He called her his little ember, said she burned too bright for a world like this.

Then one day, he didn’t come home.

They said it was an accident—that the mine had swallowed him whole, just another body lost in the dark. She was six, alone, staring at the doorway, waiting for a man who would never walk through it again.

That was the day she learned what Zaun did to people who weren’t careful. It ate them alive, and it didn’t even leave bones behind.

After that, she spent weeks living off scraps, barely surviving. The other street kids were ruthless, preying on the weak. She learned quickly—how to steal, how to fight, how to make herself invisible when she needed to. The world did not care for lost little girls. It was cold, brutal and relentless. If she wanted to survive, she had to become something more.

And so, she did.

She was ten when she met Vi.

All sharp angles and defiant eyes, Ember had been living in the crawlspaces of an abandoned warehouse with a handful of other gutter kids. Hunger was a constant, curling up in her gut like a living thing, and trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She didn’t have a family, not like Vi did—didn’t have a Vander or a Powder or anyone that would stick their neck out for her. She had herself, and she had a reputation. That had always been enough.

Then Vi showed up and decided she didn’t like her.

It had started over territory. The underpass near the bridge was prime ground for scavenging, and Ember had been working it long before Vi and her crew came sniffing around. Mylo was the first to call her a rat. Vi was the one to throw the first punch.

The fight was ugly—bare-knuckled and brutal, the kind that left bruises deep in the bone. Ember was fast, but Vi was mean, and it had ended with Ember spitting blood and Vi’s knuckles split open. They stared at each other, panting, battered, but something had shifted in the air between them.

She half expected Vi to warn her off, to tell her to stay away from her territory, but instead, Vi had offered her a hand up and said, "You fight like hell."

And that was that.

The five of them were inseparable after that—Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Ember.

They were loud, reckless, invincible in the way only street kids could be. They pulled jobs together, stole together, bled together. Ember was the one Vi turned to when she needed backup, the one who watched her back when things got messy. She was the one who slipped into tight spaces, who charmed marks with a grin before cutting their purse strings.

But more than that, they were family.

For the first time in her life, Ember had people who mattered. People she would kill for. People she would die for.

They spent nights huddled together on rooftops, counting the stars that flickered faintly through the smog. They shared stolen bread and dented cans of sweetened milk. Vi taught Ember how to throw a punch with weight behind it. Ember taught Powder how to shoot. Claggor hauled the grunt work, his goggles always slipping down his face, and Mylo, of course, complained about everything, but they were hers. And they were happy.

She let herself believe they always would be.

Then they were in the old canning factory.

Ember had helped Mylo undo Vander's final lock, who was brawling Silco's goons with inhuman strength, and Claggor was standing proudly in front of their chance at escape. Through the opening in the concrete, Ember caught a glimpse of the moonlight shining over Zaun's horizon, bouncing off dusty rooftops and catching on her friends' smiles. In that moment, despite the gut-wrenching sounds of Vander's shimmer-induced rage and the faint rhythmic clicking sounds in the distance, she felt as though this was where she was meant to be.

Click, click, click, BANG!

Ember saw it all unfold in slow motion—the shimmer of blue light, the crackling energy, the split second where she glanced at her friends' unknowing faces. And then the blast.

The force of it had knocked the air from her lungs, sent her flying, but not before a monstrous pair of arms wrapped around her, cradling her against the inevitable contact with the ground below. The world was shrouded in black for a moment as pain bloomed sharp and hot in her ribs, her skull. Crack. She was gasping for a breath, wheezing as the smell of burning metal and charred flesh filled her nose, and when she tried to move, something heavy pinned her down. Vander.

She had called out for Vi, for anyone, but only silence answered.

When she finally clawed her way free, the factory was in ruins, and they were gone.

Vi. Powder. Mylo. Claggor.

All gone.

Tears streaked through the grime on her face, turning an angry shade of crimson when they mixed with the still-wet blood seeping from the top of her skull. She didn't bother to wipe them when they caught in the permanent creases of what were once smile lines.

Ember ran until her lungs burned, until the drumbeat of her own heart deafened her and her legs felt as though they'd snap in two. She searched the wreckage, desperately screaming out to the empty streets they used to run through, and the back alleys where they used to hide. But Zaun was a hungry city, and it swallowed its own, until there was nothing left of a family but their faded portraits, scrawled in crayon, on the crumbles of their old home.

Still, Ember gripped tightly onto whatever fragment of hope she could, her knuckles turning white as the waited. Sitting on that rooftop, she stared at the stuffed rabbit, and the smears of red paint, and the tattered blanket by the exhaust where she and Vi would snuggle up in the colder months. And she waited. Memories came in painful flashes, catching her off guard as she rubbed her eyes through the late hours of the night. She became scared to even blink should she miss some sign that her best friends, her family, might still be alive.

Then, one night as Ember sat perched above the Last Drop, a group of chattering drunkards stumbled by below, and she overheard what had actually happened that night—heard about Mylo and Claggor, about Vander, about Vi. In that moment, the last shard of hope Ember had been grasping had sliced through her palm and shattered against the cold concrete of reality. She was bleeding out, and nobody even knew. So, as the last fibers of her old self trickled from her veins, and she turned translucent to the world, Ember learned how to disappear completely. By the time the enforcers came down on the Lanes, Ember was just another shadow slipping between the cracks.

Because that was what you did in Zaun when you lost everything. You disappeared.

Ember became smoke in the streets, a ghost that even the undercity forgot. Days turned to weeks, weeks to years, and Ember learned that grief doesn't leave scars like the sparks shooting from that old burn barrel did—it hollows you out, scorches you clean from the inside until nothing remains but the charred remnants of what once was.

And so, Ember abandoned her name, her hideouts and changed the way she moved. She hardened, buried the part of herself that ached for the family she lost, and walked away from everything tying her to who she once was. The streets taught her how to erase herself, how to become something untouchable.

She had been named after fire.

But embers didn’t burn forever.

And whatever part of her had been alive before that night—before the blast, before the screams, before she lost everything—had long since turned to ash.

WC: ~2,200 words

A/N: hey hey! if you're here, thank you for reading the first chappie of Smoke and Steel! i'm so excited for where this story's gonna go, and i can't wait to write more :) i know this chapter was pretty short and concise, but i just wanted it to set the stage and ember's backstory. i promise the next chapters will be longer! i'm not suuuuper consistent with upload schedules, but i also don't have a life, so i'll likely upload pretty often lmfao. hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

seeya in the next one~~

♥♥♥ maya_no_more