The sound that woke Kael was not screaming.
It was silence.
Not the gentle kind that followed sleep, but the sudden, suffocating absence of everything familiar. No crackle from the hearth. No soft breathing from the next room. No wind against the shutters.
Just… nothing.
His eyes opened.
Moonlight spilled across the floor in pale, broken lines, slipping through shattered wood where the window used to be. The smell hit him a heartbeat later—iron, smoke, and something sharp that burned his nose.
Kael sat up.
His blanket slid off his shoulders. His feet touched stone, cold enough to make him flinch. He didn't remember leaving the bed. He didn't remember hearing anything.
That was wrong.
His parents were light sleepers. His father always said danger announced itself loudly. That you could hear it coming if you listened hard enough.
Kael stood.
The hallway outside his room was darker than it should have been. The lantern that burned through the night was gone, its hook empty. The wooden floor was slick beneath his bare feet.
He looked down.
His foot was red.
Kael froze.
Slowly, he raised his gaze.
The hallway ended where the sitting room began—or what was left of it. The front wall had been torn open, stone and timber reduced to jagged ruin. Cold night air poured in, carrying drifting embers.
His father lay just beyond the threshold.
Kael didn't scream.
He couldn't.
His father's sword was still in his hand, blade snapped clean in half. One arm bent at the wrong angle. His chest… Kael couldn't make sense of his chest. There was too much missing.
Someone moved.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness near the doorway.
Kael's body reacted before his mind did. He stumbled backward, breath hitching, heart slamming so hard it hurt. His back hit the wall beside the hall entrance.
The figure stepped forward into the moonlight.
Black armour. Smooth. Unmarked by any crest. No symbol of a house, a guild, or a kingdom. A blank faceplate reflected Kael's wide eyes back at him.
Another figure appeared beside the first.
Then another.
They moved with discipline, not haste. Like this was routine.
One of them turned his head slightly, as if listening.
"Child," a distorted voice said from behind the helm. Calm. Bored. "You were not listed."
Kael's knees shook.
"My mother," he whispered. His throat felt raw. "Where's my—"
A hand closed around his shoulder.
Kael screamed this time.
He twisted, clawing blindly, nails scraping against leather and cloth. His mother pulled him back against her chest, arms wrapping tight around him. Her heartbeat was frantic beneath his ear.
"Don't look," she said, voice shaking but firm. "Kael, don't look. Close your eyes."
"I can't—" His breath hitched. "Dad—"
"I know." Her grip tightened. "I know."
Mana surged.
Kael felt it like a wave of pressure, heavy and suffocating. The air shimmered as his mother raised one hand, sigils burning into existence around her fingers. The nearest armoured figure reacted instantly.
Steel flashed.
Kael felt his mother jerk.
Warm liquid splashed across his cheek.
Her arms loosened.
"No," Kael choked.
She fell to her knees behind him. He twisted around, catching her before she hit the floor. Her eyes were wide, unfocused. Blood soaked through her clothes where the blade had passed clean through.
"Kael," she whispered.
Her hand found his face, fingers trembling as they traced his cheek like she was afraid he might vanish.
"Listen to me."
The armoured men advanced.
His mother smiled.
It was small. Sad. Proud.
"Live," she said. "No matter what."
A final surge of mana exploded outward.
The world turned white.
Kael didn't remember being thrown.
He didn't remember hitting the floor.
He remembered the heat. The roar. The sound of stone tearing itself apart.
Then nothing.
When he woke again, the house was burning.
Flames crawled along the walls, devouring furniture, curtains, memories. Smoke clawed at his lungs. Kael coughed, rolling onto his side.
His parents didn't move.
He crawled.
Every inch hurt. His head rang. His vision blurred. But he dragged himself across the floor until his fingers touched his mother's sleeve.
Cold.
He stayed there.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
Eventually, the fire softened. The roaring faded into a low crackle.
Kael sat up.
His tears came silently now, streaking ash down his face. He didn't sob. There was no sound left in him for that.
Footsteps crunched outside.
Kael turned slowly.
A man stood in the broken doorway, framed by firelight and smoke. Tall. Broad. Wearing a travel cloak dusted with ash. His presence pressed down on the air itself, heavy and undeniable.
His eyes moved once across the bodies.
Then to Kael.
The man stepped inside, boots crunching on shattered stone.
He stopped a few paces away.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then:
"Do you want to live?"
Kael stared at him.
The question didn't make sense. Everything hurt. Everything was gone. The world felt hollow, like it had already ended.
But something deep inside him—something small and stubborn—twitched.
He nodded.
The man inclined his head slightly.
"Good," he said. "Stand up."