Eryndor wasn't destroyed in one day.
It broke slowly.
Aelric knew that because he had walked its roads for years and watched the change happen bit by bit. Villages disappeared. Fields went quiet. People stopped asking questions.
He walked alone down a road that used to matter.
The stones were cracked now, some missing completely. Dust clung to his boots, no matter how often he wiped them. His cloak was old and torn at the hem, and he hadn't bothered fixing it. There was no point. It would tear again.
The sword at his side was simple. No jewels. No markings. Just steel.
That was enough.
The wind shifted.
Aelric slowed.
Smoke.
He stopped walking.
Smoke always meant something had gone wrong.
He rested his hand on his sword and moved forward, careful now. Quiet. The village came into view, and his chest tightened before he even fully saw it.
Burned.
Again.
Houses were half-collapsed, blackened by fire. Ash covered the ground like dirty snow. A cart lay broken in the road, one wheel snapped clean off.
No voices.
That was the worst part.
Aelric stepped into the village. The silence pressed in on him, heavy and uncomfortable. He checked one house, then another.
Empty.
Too late.
He was always too late.
Then the ground cracked.
The sound was sharp, sudden, close.
Aelric spun around.
Someone stood near the old well.
A hooded figure, slim and shaking, one hand raised. Blue light flickered around their fingers, weak but wild. The stones of the well trembled, then collapsed inward with a loud crash.
Magic.
Aelric froze.
He had been trained for this. Taught what to do. Taught what to believe.
Mages are dangerous.
Mages bring chaos.
He should have drawn his sword.
He didn't.
The figure stumbled back, breathing hard. The hood slipped, and he saw her face.
A girl.
Not a child but not hardened either. Her eyes glowed faintly blue, fear written plainly across her face.
"Don't come closer," she said. Her voice shook. "Please."
Aelric raised his hands slowly.
"I'm not here to take you," he said.
She didn't believe him. He could tell.
"That's what they say before the chains come out."
"I don't wear their symbol," he replied.
Her eyes flicked to his cloak. Plain. Empty.
Her hands lowered a little.
"What happened here?" Aelric asked.
Her jaw tightened.
"They came," she said. "Soldiers. They said they were looking for mages."
He already knew the rest.
"They burned it."
Aelric looked around again. The broken homes. The ash. The quiet.
"Did anyone get out?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I ran."
The word came out small.
A horn sounded in the distance.
Both of them stiffened.
Her eyes widened. "They're coming back."
Aelric listened. The sound came again. Closer.
"How fast can you run?" he asked.
She stared at him. "Why?"
"Because I can slow them down," he said. "But you need to move. Now."
Trust wasn't easy. Not today.
But she nodded.
"South," she said quickly. "There's a forest path."
"Go."
She didn't hesitate again. She ran.
Aelric turned back to the road and drew his sword.
Six soldiers appeared moments later.
They didn't ask questions.
Steel rang out.
The fight was quick and messy. Aelric didn't enjoy it. He never had. When it was over, he stood alone, breathing hard, blood dripping from his blade.
He didn't wait for more.
The forest swallowed him.
He found her by a stream, crouched low, washing her hands like she was trying to scrub fear away.
She looked up fast.
"You're alive," she said.
"For now."
She let out a shaky breath she'd been holding.
"Thank you."
Aelric nodded.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"Serayne."
He repeated it, testing the sound.
"It's good to meet you."
She gave a small smile. Sad. Tired.
Behind them, smoke still rose into the sky.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But this moment the road, the fire, the choice had already changed everything.