CHAPTER 1

In the heart of a tranquil night, stars twinkled serenely overhead while gray smoke began to billow from the dilapidated houses of a small town. Once shrouded in darkness, the aged timber structures glowed with an ominous red hue as flames devoured everything in their path, spreading rapidly like a tidal wave driven by the swirling breeze.

In any other circumstance, the townsfolk might have welcomed the cool wind. Yet its sudden, rare arrival only intensified their already desperate situation. The frigid air not only fanned the flames but also forced them to confront the harsh reality of their plight as they battled the relentless inferno.

Before long, the stillness of the night was shattered by frantic shouts and desperate cries. The relentless roar of the flames consuming homes could not drown out the anguished voices of those losing everything they held dear. Unbeknownst to them, this was merely the beginning of a catastrophe that would set in motion a horrific chain of events in the history of the great empire of Vethoria.

But even knowing this was no help to the townsfolk. Not to them, and not to the woman overlooking the chaos from the mountains behind the town with shaking eyes.

The woman watched in horror as the houses succumbed to flames. The bright red-orange fire illuminated the night sky, growing fiercer by the second. Terrified, she lost her grip on the basket of herbs she had gathered, scattering them across the ground. Panic surged within her as she began to run, the hem of her brown overall dress—cut to her calves—hindered her progress. In a moment of desperation, she tore the fabric violently until the rip reached the middle of her thighs. Without hesitation, she resumed her flight, now able to move faster than before.

As she reached the foot of the mountain, her feet aching and bruised, she sprinted past the burning houses, tuning out the desperate calls for help and focusing solely on the one person who filled her mind.

“Silas!”

She shouted as she flung open a wooden door that still stood intact. Though already scorched by the encroaching flames, the house had not yet surrendered completely to the inferno—but time was running out.

A thick cloud of dark smoke enveloped her the moment she stepped inside the small dwelling. The crackling of flames mingled with the ominous creaking of wood and debris, leaving the walls charred and crumbling.

Panting heavily, she quickly realized that the fire was advancing rapidly along the wooden walls. With no time to spare, she ignored the searing heat and moved forward, determination propelling her every stride.

“Silas!”

She continued to call for her son, frantically checking every room while dodging falling debris. Fire embers floated around her, searing holes into the tattered skirt she wore. In a futile attempt to block out the smoke, she covered her nose with her hands and pushed aside a small slab of wood that had fallen before the bedroom door.

Desperate, she kicked at the stuck door, scanning the small room with trembling eyes. An unfamiliar curse slipped from her lips as panic seized her—he was nowhere to be found. This was the only room in the house, and Silas was missing.

Her mind raced, paralyzing her with fear. Visions of her son trapped beneath debris and wood in the house crashed into her already muddled thoughts. She barely registered the burns on her legs, inflicted by the embers swirling through the air.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Silas!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to call out, countless thoughts flooding her mind until, at last, she heard a faint response.

“Mom…”

Her heart leaped, relief washing over her despite the stinging pain in her arms and legs.

“I’m here, Silas!” she shouted back, adrenaline surging as she stepped onto the smoldering wood, driven to reach her son.

Following the sound, she spotted a slanted wooden table with one broken leg leaning against the wall, shielding the boy. He was weakly coughing, his eyes closed. His tear-streaked face was smudged with ash, and the fabric of his pants bore a burn mark from the knees down, a testament to his desperate crawl to safety.

The sight of her son curled up, a look of grim pain etched on his face, filled her with both relief and profound worry. She leaned over, quickly hugging the frail boy before pulling him to his feet.

“You’re safe now. I’m here with you,” she whispered.

“Mom?” he murmured, resting his head tiredly against her neck as she lifted him into her arms. He felt a warmth from her that sharply contrasted with the excruciating heat of the fire—a familiar warmth, infused with the care only a mother could provide.

“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, her voice raspy and worn. Yet to Silas’s ears, it remained the soft voice that always soothed him.

As her reassuring words began to fade, the weary boy struggled to stay conscious. The burning house in his vision slowly darkened, and before he could even make out the shadowy figure standing at the end of the hallway, everything went black, and the chaos of the night fell silent.

==========

With a slight throbbing in his head, the young boy with unevenly burned hair and a warm complexion opened his eyes to find himself beneath a white cloth that curved upward. Turning to one side, he saw rows of people lying on white cloths spread across a neatly trimmed grassy expanse. Their eyes were closed, and various parts of their bodies were bandaged in white fabric; one man even had his entire head wrapped in it.

Turning to the other side, Silas realized he was inside a large tent, likely set up for those injured in the fire.

Unsure of his surroundings, he tried to pull himself up, but his aching body wouldn’t cooperate. Lacking the energy to try again, he let his gaze wander around the tent.

“Ugh, M-mom?” he managed to call, his voice raspy. His throat felt dry and aching, yearning for water, but his focus is on something else. He searched for his mother, recalling how she had saved him from the flames.

He strained to see if she was among the other patients, but uncertainty gnawed at him.

Just then, someone entered the tent and immediately noticed the awake child. With a small smile, a woman in a white priest’s robe approached him, concern etched on her face.

“You're awake. How are you feeling?” she asked, her hands clasped together.

“…My body hurts,” Silas replied after a moment, realizing she might be the one who had cared for him.

“That’s natural. You were found just outside your burning house. It must have been a difficult escape.”

Outside the house? Aren’t I with Mom? She saved me from the flames.

A sense of foreboding washed over Silas, panic flashing in his eyes as tears began to pool. “Mom, where’s Mom?” he asked, his raspy voice trembling.

“Your mom?” the priest repeated, a hint of confusion crossing her face. But then her expression softened, and her lips curled into a comforting smile as she placed a hand on his head. Though calm, Silas could almost read the unspoken thoughts in her eyes.

“Let’s see if she’s among the patients. If not, then she’s likely in a better place.”

“A better place?” Silas echoed, bewildered. He couldn't accept the thought that accompanied the look the priest gave him.

Turning more somber, the priest gently patted the child’s head and the uneven strands of his burnt hair. “Yes, like many of the other townsfolk. They’re now in a peaceful place.”

R E H I L I Y A