The world had ended.
And yet, dawn still came.
Kaen sat in silence, his back against the charred remains of his home. His body was numb, his hands limp at his sides, his eyes unfocused. He stared at the ground before him—blackened earth where the fire still smoldered, where ashes drifted like falling snow.
The night had stolen everything. His brother's reckless grin. His sisters' innocent laughter. His mother's warmth.
All of it—gone.
But the pain wasn't gone. No, it was alive. Gnawing at his chest like a beast, pulling him down, dragging him into a pit where even breathing felt unbearable.
He should have cried. He should have screamed. He should have cursed the gods, cursed the monsters, cursed the very sky for daring to let the sun rise after such a night.
But nothing came.
Only silence.
His tears had dried into streaks of salt across his face. His body trembled—not from cold, but from something nameless, something too vast to contain. His heart felt heavy, collapsing in on itself with every uneven beat.
The Breaking Point
The words echoed in his skull, heavy and merciless:
I couldn't protect them.
I wasn't strong enough.
His mother's final words clung to him, fragile, breaking with every repetition:
"You will always be… my ember."
An ember? A flame? What flame could remain in him now, when all that had given him warmth was buried beneath ash?
And yet—somewhere deep, hidden within the ruins of himself, something flickered. Weak. Barely there. A light refusing to die.
Kaen's hands curled into fists. He pushed himself to his feet. His body resisted, heavy as stone, every movement sharp against his lungs. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care.
He only knew one thing—
He couldn't stay here.
Dawn
The sky was changing when he stepped outside.
The first rays of dawn broke across the horizon, slicing through the veil of smoke that hung above the ruined city. The sky turned faint hues of gold and crimson, painting the broken rooftops in color too beautiful for the death below.
A beautiful dawn over a dead city.
Orvale was gone. The streets, once alive with merchants calling out wares, children chasing one another, the fragrance of bread from the baker's stall—were now drowned in silence and ruin.
Bodies lay scattered across the cobblestones. Neighbors he had known since childhood. Children who had laughed alongside his sisters. People who had once greeted him with smiles in the market now stared lifeless at the sky.
The smell struck him next. The acrid bite of smoke mixed with the sharp metallic tang of blood. It burned in his nose, coated his throat. Every breath tasted of death.
Kaen staggered forward, eyes darting from body to body, half-expecting, half-praying to see someone move. To hear someone groan, or call his name. But there was nothing.
And yet… not complete silence.
As he walked, whispers seemed to follow him.
"Help me…"
"Save us…"
"…Kaen…"
His chest tightened. His fists trembled.
The voices weren't real. They couldn't be. They were fragments, echoes of screams from the night before. Ghosts his mind refused to let go.
But still—he couldn't shut them out.
At every corner, every collapsed street, he thought he saw shadows shifting. Hands reaching. Eyes staring. He would stumble toward them, heart racing—only to find cold bodies lying still.
Each time, the silence felt heavier.
Riku
One name anchored him amidst the madness.
Riku.
His closest friend. The girl who had shared his secrets, who had scolded him when he was reckless, who had laughed so freely that it warmed even his darkest moods.
He didn't know if she was alive. He didn't know if her home had survived. But he had to see her.
If he lost her too—he didn't know if he could survive it.
Kaen's mind pulled back a memory, unbidden. The summer festival two years ago. The lanterns lit, floating into the night sky like drifting stars. He remembered Riku's eyes sparkling as she pointed upward.
"They say each lantern carries a wish," she had told him, smiling. "What did you wish for, Kaen?"
He hadn't answered then. He'd only looked at her, too embarrassed to say.
But he remembered the wish now.
That he would always be able to protect her.
His breath hitched. His steps quickened.
He had to find her.
The Light
On the way, something caught his eye.
Far down the ruined street, amid the ash and rubble, a faint glow flickered.
Not the harsh, hungry glow of lingering fire. No. This was different. Pale. Radiant. Pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat.
Kaen froze. His breath caught.
Another hallucination? Another cruel trick of grief?
But the light did not vanish. It remained, steady, beckoning.
Drawn forward, Kaen walked. Slowly at first, then faster. His boots crunched over shattered stone, his eyes fixed on the glow.
And then he saw it.
The Stone
Nestled among the broken rubble, untouched by flame or blood, was a stone.
It was no larger than his palm. Its surface was smooth, faintly translucent, and within it danced a glow—like molten fire, shifting and swirling, yet never consuming itself.
The light pulsed, slow and steady. Alive.
Kaen crouched down, his breath shallow. His fingers hovered over it, trembling. For a long moment, he hesitated.
What if it burned him? What if it vanished the moment he touched it, like all the other things he had tried to hold onto?
But something within him urged him forward.
When his skin brushed against the stone, warmth spread through him. Not searing. Not the kind that destroyed.
Comforting. Steady.
Like the hearth on a winter night.
Like his mother's embrace.
Kaen gasped softly. His eyes widened.
The ember within him—weak, fragile, fading—stirred.
It was as though the stone resonated with something inside him. Something deeper than grief, deeper than pain.
For the first time since the night began, his chest eased slightly. Not healed. Not whole. But no longer suffocating.
He closed his fist around it. The stone's warmth seeped into him, grounding him, anchoring him against the storm within.
He didn't know what it was. He didn't know why it had appeared.
But he knew one thing—
This stone was not ordinary.
And it had chosen to appear before him now.
Forward
Kaen rose to his feet.
The dawn light grew stronger, spilling across Orvale. The golden rays caught the ruined homes, the broken streets, the lifeless bodies—and yet, even in this graveyard, there was a fragile beauty.
He looked down at the stone in his hand. Its glow was faint in the morning sun, but steady. Refusing to die.
Perhaps it was fate.
Perhaps it was nothing.
But he could not ignore it.
He tucked the stone close to his chest. Its warmth beat against his heart.
Then he turned, his eyes fixing on the path ahead. Toward the district where Riku's home had stood.
His grief was still heavy. His steps were still slow. But with each movement, with each breath, the ember inside him stirred.
Weak. Fragile.
But alive.
And so Kaen walked forward.
Toward Riku.
Toward whatever awaited him next.