The flames licking the thatched roofs reflected in the boy’s eyes, frozen with both fear and guilt. What happened? Had he foolishly fallen into their trap? And what, after all, was their goal?

  “Sire, forgive my frankness, but you were warned. None of this would have occurred had you surrendered quietly,” said the master-at-arms, his tone moralizing.

  Owen’s heart pounded at the sight of the inferno. His anger no longer targeted the attackers but himself. How could he have let this happen?

  The man continued, voice cold and unyielding.

  “You were mistaken to think you could bear everything alone, face all threats by yourself, and rely solely on your powers.”

  Slowly regaining his composure, Owen stepped forward toward the burning village.

  “Do you still think you can save them? But know this: what is happening is your doing, Sire. If you had not been so obstinate, they would all still be safe. It is too late.”

  The master-at-arms studied him intently, as if hoping for a reaction. He was not disappointed.

  Owen’s eyes widened at the thought of his mother and sister trapped in the blaze. Cold sweat ran down his forehead.

  There was no time to lose. He had to act.

  A shadow of a smile flickered at the corner of the soldier’s lips.

  ???

  Screams echoed through the village streets. The fire had spread with terrifying speed, trapping the mostly sleeping inhabitants. Homes that had been warm and safe now resembled ovens. Thick, silent smoke claimed just as many victims.

  The few still awake had escaped but found no refuge, cornered by the advancing flames. Leaving meant heading straight into the invaders’ grasp. Though their numbers had dwindled, they remained too numerous to outrun.

  Amid the mountain’s biting cold, the heat now burned unbearably, almost suffocating. The flames cast an eerie glow, turning night into something resembling a strange, crimson day.

  A young man moved swiftly, pulling Cerena and Elvira by the hand. They tried to thread through the fire, rescuing what villagers they could. Many had already perished, leaving even the healer helpless.

  Though his greatest desire was to protect his family, he could not abandon the villagers. He had lived among them too long to ignore their plight.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Elvira, horrified, followed silently, eyes darting from one house to another. Cerena, meanwhile, searched desperately for Owen, gasping for breath. The situation was beyond her control; she had to find him.

  “Take Elvira,” said the young man. “Find Owen and get to safety. I must at least try to help them…”

  Cerena kissed him, tears streaming down her face. A pain beyond words gripped her chest. The young man hugged his daughter tightly, eyes shining, stroking her hair as he whispered a few words before sprinting toward the raging fire.

  Without a word, the two groups went their separate ways.

  ???

  Turning down an alley spared from the fire, Cerena and Elvira encountered a stranger. His dark cloak concealed his face, yet beneath it, a sharp object glinted in the moonlight.

  He studied them for a long moment before letting out a low, whistling note that echoed off the stone walls.

  Cerena stepped protectively in front of Elvira, preparing to retreat slowly the way they had come.

  But she had no chance to act.

  A hand seized Elvira’s shoulder, who let out a startled cry. Two more men appeared behind them, one holding her firmly.

  The man in front removed his hood and drew his sword, remaining motionless.

  “Forgive our manners, My Lady, but His Majesty summons you,” he said, bowing awkwardly, a smile on his lips.

  A shiver of fear coursed through Cerena. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding violently against her chest.

  Paralyzed—not by these men, but by the fear of history repeating itself—she could not think clearly. She remained silent.

  “Come with us, and no one else will be harmed. You have my word.”

  A long pause.

  “Release her, and I will follow,” she finally said, her voice pleading.

  “Mo—”

  Elvira froze. Cerena shook her head resolutely; if the men realized she was her daughter, the girl would be in danger.

  “She has nothing to do with this,” she said firmly.

  “Agreed,” he replied simply.

  Stepping forward with determination, Cerena approached the man who had spoken. Though darkness shrouded the street, she saw his smile widen in satisfaction.

  “Very good choice, My Lady,” he said, advancing.

  But as she drew near, he suddenly stiffened. A blade, crimson in the moonlight, protruded from his chest. He fell with a dull thud, revealing a snow-white figure behind him, eyes gleaming with menace.