The village of Duskpine was small, tucked between the dark edge of the Verdant Wilds and the shadow of the Ironfang Mountains. Most who passed through barely remembered it existed. To Kael, though, it was the entire world.

At twelve years old, he thought his life was simple, almost ordinary. His mornings were filled with his father’s stern lessons in swordplay, afternoons with his younger sister Lyra’s laughter, and evenings with the warmth of firelight spilling across wooden walls that smelled faintly of pine. If there was hardship, Kael never saw it—his father, a weathered man with eyes like steel, shouldered it quietly.

Lyra was the heart of their home. Just ten, she carried an innocence that Kael secretly envied. She sang while carrying buckets of water, skipped through the dirt paths barefoot, and had a way of finding beauty even in cracked stones or broken tools. She’d grin at Kael after one of Father’s brutal sparring sessions and whisper, “One day you’ll be stronger than him, you’ll see.”

Kael didn’t believe it. His father was more than a man—he was a wall, immovable, the kind of figure Kael thought could hold back the entire world if it demanded it. But still, Kael trained, sweating, aching, sometimes failing so badly that his wooden sword clattered uselessly to the ground. And yet, Father never allowed him to give up.

“Strength isn’t a gift, Kael,” his father told him once, handing the boy the fallen sword. “It’s a burden. You carry it so others don’t have to.”

Those words etched themselves deep into Kael’s heart. He didn’t fully understand them then, but he felt their weight every time Lyra clung to his arm, asking him to chase fireflies or telling him she dreamed of seeing the great cities beyond the mountains.

Life, though fragile, felt steady. The villagers were kind enough, bound together by necessity more than affection. Rumors came and went of monsters roaming the forests, of beasts drawn closer each year, but none had reached their quiet lives. And though Kael’s father trained him harder than seemed necessary, Kael chalked it up to a soldier’s paranoia—his father’s past was a mystery he never spoke of.

Still, sometimes Kael caught him staring toward the horizon, jaw set, as though expecting storm clouds no one else could see.

One evening, that storm nearly showed itself.

The night air was heavy, unusually still. Kael and Lyra sat by the fire, their father sharpening his blade in silence. The rasp of stone on steel was steady, deliberate. Lyra leaned against Kael’s shoulder, humming softly, her eyes heavy with sleep.

Then—footsteps. Not outside. Inside the house.

A tall shadow filled the doorway. Kael tensed, instinctively reaching for the wooden practice sword leaning nearby. His father was already on his feet, steel flashing in the firelight.

“Stay behind me.” His father’s voice was low, dangerous.

Kael obeyed without hesitation, pulling Lyra close.

The figure stepped into the light, and Kael saw the face of his father’s old friend—Master Veylan, a man who had visited their home countless times. He had trained with Father, shared food with them, even told Kael stories of war and glory by the fire. To Kael, Veylan was nearly an uncle.

But something was wrong. His eyes glowed faintly red in the shadows, and his expression—cold, almost hollow—sent a chill down Kael’s spine.

“Veylan,” Father growled, blade raised, “why?”

The man only smiled faintly. “Because peace was never meant for men like us.”

Kael didn’t understand those words. Not then. But he felt Lyra trembling against him, her small fingers digging into his sleeve. He felt his father’s tension, the way his stance shifted like a wolf cornered by another predator.

That night, the quiet life of Duskpine began to unravel.

The firelight flickered across the steel as Kael’s father raised his sword, his voice taut with fury.

“You were my brother once, Veylan. You ate at my table. You swore to protect this village.”

The man’s faint smile didn’t waver. The crimson glow in his eyes deepened, unnatural, wrong.

“I swore many things,” Veylan said softly, almost kindly, as though he spoke of a forgotten promise. “But the world isn’t sustained by oaths. It’s sustained by power. And power demands sacrifice.”

Kael didn’t understand, but he felt the truth of it in his bones—the man standing before them wasn’t the friend he had known. He was something else. Something twisted.

Then, the sound split the air. Not words, but screams. Outside. A cacophony of shrieks and howls carried on the night wind. The smell of smoke bled through the wooden walls, choking, acrid.

Kael’s chest tightened. He knew that smell. Fire.

Father’s eyes narrowed. “You brought them here.”

Veylan tilted his head. “I only opened the way. The rest was inevitable. Beasts, soldiers, flames—it all burns the same in the end.”

Kael’s heart pounded as he clutched Lyra closer. Outside, chaos erupted—the crack of collapsing wood, the roar of beasts, the clash of steel as villagers screamed for their lives. His home, his world, was being torn apart.

Father stepped forward, blade raised, fury radiating from him like a storm. “If you want them—you’ll have to go through me.”

Veylan’s smile sharpened. “So be it.”

Steel rang against steel, sparks scattering across the floor. The two men clashed in the small room, their movements too fast for Kael’s eyes to follow. His father fought like a lion, every strike filled with desperate strength, every block shaking the wooden beams around them.

But Veylan was faster. Stronger. His blade moved like a serpent, always a step ahead, his crimson eyes reflecting the fire growing outside.

Kael’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, powerless, while Lyra buried her face against him, sobbing silently.

Then—Veylan spoke.

“Your strength is wasted, old friend. Why fight for ashes? Give me the boy. Give me the girl. They’ll live—under me.”

Father’s snarl was pure defiance. “Over my dead body.”

“Easily arranged.”

The strike came quick, a blur of steel and malice. Father staggered, blood blooming across his shoulder. He didn’t fall—he roared, shoving Veylan back, sword raised again with trembling hands.

“Kael!” his voice cracked like thunder. “Take your sister. Run!”

Kael froze. His legs refused to move. His arms locked around Lyra. Run? Leave Father? The thought tore at him like knives.

But his father’s eyes—sharp, commanding, desperate—left no room for argument.

“I said go!”

The weight of those words crashed into Kael. He forced his body into motion, dragging Lyra toward the back door, his heart hammering so loud he thought it might burst.

Behind him, steel clashed again. A roar. A scream. The sound of a body hitting wood.

And then—silence.

Kael dared to glance back. His father knelt on the floor, blood staining the boards beneath him, his sword shattered in his grip. Veylan stood above him, calm, blade slick with crimson.

“Father!” Kael’s cry ripped from his throat.

His father’s gaze found him, fierce even in defeat. “Protect her, Kael. Whatever happens—live.”

The door shattered inward. Not Veylan this time—beasts. Hulking, twisted shapes with eyes that gleamed in the firelight, claws dripping with blood. They surged into the house, snarling, their stench overwhelming.

Kael’s body moved without thought. He threw himself in front of Lyra, arms spread wide though he held no weapon. He was just a boy, trembling, powerless. But in that moment, his father’s words anchored him—carry the burden so others don’t have to.

One of the beasts lunged.

And then—light.

Not firelight. Something else. It erupted from the broken sword in his father’s hand, a desperate flare of power. The beasts recoiled, snarling, as if struck by unseen chains. Veylan hissed, stepping back into the shadows.

“You damn fool,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Kael’s father’s final act of defiance burned in the air, a shield of crackling force holding back the monsters for only a heartbeat. His gaze locked on Kael once more.

“Run.”

The shield shattered.

Kael grabbed Lyra’s hand and ran into the night. Behind them, their home burned, their father’s roar swallowed by flame and screams.

The village of Duskpine—everything they had ever known—was nothing but ashes.

....

The night swallowed Kael and Lyra as they fled through the burning streets.

The air was thick with smoke, choking, clawing its way down his throat with every ragged breath. Sparks stung his skin, flames roared from collapsing rooftops, and the cries of his neighbors cut through the chaos—pleas for help, for mercy, for salvation that never came.

Kael’s small hand clenched around Lyra’s, refusing to let go. She stumbled, sobbing, her pale hair sticking to her tear-streaked face, but he dragged her onward. He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

His father’s voice still rang in his ears: Protect her. Live.

But how?

Everywhere he looked, the world was ending. Soldiers of their own kingdom—men in tarnished armor, faces twisted with fear—fled through the streets, dropping their spears as the beasts descended upon them. Great hulking shapes, fanged maws slick with blood, eyes glimmering like molten gold in the firelight.

One soldier, his face familiar—Uncle Bren from the market—screamed as claws tore across his chest, his body crumpling to the ground. Kael froze, his stomach lurching.

Lyra whimpered, tugging at him. “K-Kael…”

He forced his feet to move again, dragging her away before the beast turned its glowing gaze toward them.

The streets twisted, every corner a nightmare. Kael saw houses torn open, families dragged into the flames, children crying for parents who would never answer. The smell of blood mixed with smoke until it coated his tongue, bitter, metallic, unforgettable.

“Why… why are they doing this?” Lyra’s small voice cracked, breaking what little was left of him.

Kael didn’t answer. He didn’t know. All he knew was Veylan’s crimson eyes, the smirk on his lips, the betrayal in his words.

Power demands sacrifice.

Kael’s legs trembled, his breath ragged, but he kept moving. For Lyra. Always for Lyra.

They reached the village square. It was worse.

The once-familiar fountain where he and his friends had played was shattered, stones slick with blood. Dozens of bodies lay strewn across the cobblestones—men, women, even children—cut down where they had stood. The air reeked of iron.

Kael stopped dead.

His hollow eyes drank it all in. The burning homes. The fleeing soldiers. The snarling beasts. The red haze of betrayal that hung over everything.

This was no longer his village. No longer home.

It was a graveyard.

Lyra buried her face against his arm, whimpering, but Kael couldn’t look away. His young mind, too fragile for this horror, began to fracture. A numbness spread through him. He wanted to scream, to cry, to collapse and beg for it all to end—but he couldn’t. His father’s voice bound him tighter than chains.

Protect her. Live.

He couldn’t die. Not yet. Not while Lyra needed him.

Something moved in the square.

Through the smoke, through the haze of firelight, he saw him—Veylan. Standing tall amidst the carnage, his blade dripping red, his crimson eyes glowing with terrible calm.

The betrayer.

The man who had once laughed with his father, shared their table, carried him on his shoulders when he was younger. The man who had destroyed everything.

And worse—Veylan wasn’t alone.

Behind him, the beasts prowled like loyal hounds, their fangs glistening, their hunger restrained only by his presence. He was their master. Their commander.

Veylan’s gaze swept the square and landed on Kael.

For a heartbeat, time froze.

Kael’s chest seized, his hand tightening on Lyra’s until she cried out from the pain. His body screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. He was caught, a mouse before a serpent.

Veylan tilted his head, and for a moment Kael saw no malice in his expression—only curiosity.

“Still alive,” the man murmured. His voice carried even through the crackle of flames. “Good. The boy endures.”

Lyra whimpered again, clutching Kael’s arm. Veylan’s eyes flicked to her, and something sharp glinted in his smile.

“Yes,” he said softly. “I see now. That’s the chain that binds you. The weakness that keeps you human.”

Kael’s teeth ground together, his fists trembling with a rage too big for his small body. “Stay away from her!”

The words tore from his throat raw and desperate, but his voice was swallowed by the flames, by the beasts, by Veylan’s low chuckle.

“You’ll learn, boy,” Veylan said, his crimson eyes burning brighter. “Everything you love is nothing but kindling for the fire. When it’s all gone, then—then you’ll understand what it means to be strong.”

He turned, his cloak swirling as he vanished into the smoke. The beasts followed, slipping back into the shadows, leaving only the flames and corpses in their wake.

Kael collapsed to his knees, clutching Lyra to his chest. His vision blurred, his body shaking uncontrollably.

But his eyes—his eyes were hollow now, emptied by grief, filled with a rage too deep for a child to bear.

He watched the village burn.

He watched the lives of everyone he had ever known turn to ash.

And in the silence that followed, Kael swore—swore to the flames, to the corpses, to the ghost of his father’s voice—that he would never forget.

That he would never forgive.

That one day, no matter the cost, he would see Veylan fall.