The fire crackled softly beneath the pale night sky.
Lynx sat across from Rowan, brushing her tails lazily, while Cass snored against a barrel with his hat over his face.
For a long while, the only sounds were the flames and the occasional rustle of the desert wind.
Then Lynx spoke quietly, her voice low and warm.
"You're thinking about it again."
Rowan didn't look up. He poked the fire with a stick, eyes distant.
"Can't help it. Some nights it just… plays in my head."
Lynx's golden eyes flickered. "How much do you remember?"
Rowan hesitated. "Bits. Pieces. Like fog in a storm."
He leaned back, letting the firelight flicker across his face.
"I remember my mom… she was smiling. My sister, Elara, was laughing about how burnt the bread was. It was a normal day."
His voice wavered slightly. "Then the door slammed open."
---
[Flashback Begins]
Boots thundered across the wooden floor.
Soldiers—armored in black with the royal crest—stormed into the house, shouting.
"Where is Eric?! Where's the traitor!?"
Rowan's mother grabbed him and Elara, pushing them behind the table. "Don't move," she whispered.
He could still hear her voice trembling, could still smell the soup she'd been cooking.
Then one of the soldiers raised his blade.
His mother stood up. "He's not here!"
She tried to shield them—but the flash of steel cut through the noise.
Rowan screamed.
Blood. Shards of pottery. Elara's small hand slipping from his grip.
A soldier kicked Rowan aside, sending him crashing into the wall. The world blurred.
Through his fading vision, he saw one of them dragging his sister by her hair.
"She'll fetch a good price," one of them sneered. "Strong eyes on this one."
That was the last thing he heard before darkness swallowed him.
---
[Later… maybe minutes, maybe hours]
He woke up to the sound of clashing steel.
The house was on fire.
Through the smoke, he saw his father—Eric Ericson—fighting soldiers in armor far heavier than his own.
Each swing of his blade shook the ground, but even Rowan could tell he was losing.
Too many enemies. Too little mana.
Eric knelt beside Rowan's mother's body, voice breaking. "No, no, no…"
Then his eyes turned to Rowan—barely breathing.
"Hold on, son… just hold on."
He tried to heal him, glowing runes flickering weakly in his hands. But the light sputtered out.
Out of mana.
That's when Eric pulled out something strange—a jagged, pulsing crystal, swirling with chaotic blue and red light.
Rowan remembered that glow more than anything else.
"Just a bit more," his father muttered. "Please…"
He pressed the crystal against Rowan's chest—
And the world exploded.
A blinding light. A sound like the heavens cracking open.
Then—silence.
---
[Present]
The fire popped, yanking Rowan back to the now.
His fingers were trembling slightly.
"That's all I remember," he said finally. "When I woke up… I was in a wagon. Lynx was beside me. Everything else was gone."
Lynx didn't speak. She looked into the fire with a sad expression that didn't need words.
Cass stirred from his sleep and mumbled, "If you're gonna trauma dump, at least wait 'til morning…"
Rowan threw a pebble at him. "Go back to sleep."
Cass snorted. "Can't. The tension woke me up."
Lynx sighed. "He ruins every serious moment."
Rowan cracked a small smile. "Yeah… and somehow, I'm glad he does."
The fire burned low, sparks dancing upward like the ghosts of memories too painful to hold.