Screams tore through the night.
Flames devoured the village, burning skin and bone, yet never dying out. No water could quench them, no cries could silence them.
A boy ran barefoot across the dirt, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum. He was small, thin, and hated by everyone in this cursed place. Yet now, as the villagers burned, his chest twisted with fear—not relief.
"Help them… please…" His voice cracked.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw a shadow move. A tall man stood in the middle of the fire, untouched, as if the flames bowed before him. His cloak fluttered without wind, and his eyes gleamed like stars buried in endless night.
The boy stumbled toward him. "Save them! I beg you!"
The man tilted his head. "Why? These people have tried to kill you more times than I can count. Do you not hate them?"
The boy's lips trembled. He clenched his fists and forced the words out.
"I don't hate them… They were just desperate. Just like me. They only wanted to live."
For the first time, the man smiled. A faint, dangerous smile.
"…Interesting."
The fire raged on. The villagers screamed until their voices broke. The boy reached out, but the man shook his head.
"I cannot save them. But I can save you."
Tears blurred the boy's eyes as the man extended his hand. His world was collapsing, yet in that moment… he made a choice.
He took the hand.
And thus, the journey began.