Smoke still clung to the broken skyline of Drelith. Whole rows of homes lay half-buried under stone and ash, and streets where children once played were nothing but fissures webbed with fire scars. The battle had ended hours ago, yet the city itself looked as though it was still burning.
Sid walked among the wreckage in silence. His boots crunched over shattered glass, his chest still heaving from exhaustion. Each breath reminded him of the daemon's laughter, echoing like it hadn't left him.
Behind him, Commander Thorne's voice cut through the haze.
"Keep the civilians back! Anyone without clearance stays behind the inner cordon. Move."
Survivors gathered in uneven lines, their eyes full of grief and suspicion. Some whispered Sid's name. Others averted their gaze. He felt their stares dig into his skin harder than any blade.
Thorne approached, his coat scorched, one arm bound in a rough bandage. He studied Sid like a man forced to swallow poison.
"You saved lives back there," Thorne admitted. His words came slowly, as though each carried weight. "But don't mistake that for trust. You're still a walking detonation. One slip—one hesitation—and you'll kill more than you save."
Sid's throat tightened. He wanted to argue, but his voice faltered. Instead, he nodded once. That was enough.
Elsewhere, Reinhardt leaned against the blackened shell of a tower, his broad shoulders trembling. His knuckles were white around the haft of his axe, but his eyes… they were distant.
"…Krannor keeps whispering," he murmured when Sid drew near. His voice was almost fragile, a contrast to his size. "During the fight… it promised me strength. Real strength. Just one command away."
Sid froze. He knew that temptation. He lived inside it every day. The two men shared a silence heavy enough to smother words.
Meanwhile, in the heart of the ruins, Professor Nox knelt beside a crater. His gloved hands brushed charred stone, tracing glowing cracks that still pulsed with crimson light. Residue from the First Flame clung to the earth like living scars, twitching when touched.
The Professor adjusted his spectacles, his expression grave.
"…It reacts," he whispered. "Not just to magic. Not just to life." He looked at Sid, and for a moment the mask of his calm intellect slipped, revealing unease. "It resonates with you. With the daemon core inside you. As if the Flame itself was waiting for you."
Sid felt his chest tighten. The thought made him sick, but the truth was undeniable. When Velgrin unleashed that inferno, something deep inside him had stirred—not in fear, but in hunger.
He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. No… I won't let it win.
But as dusk bled across the shattered horizon, the laughter of Ravh'Zereth still lingered in his bones.
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