“Burn them down!” Commanded a masculine voice. “I want this place to be ash!”

“What of the people, my lord?”

“Lock them in their houses. They will burn as well.” Venom dripped from the words as they left his mouth.

“It shall be done.” The man bowed his head before leaving.

“And Arlin!”

The man stopped when his name was called, slightly turning his head.

“If they run, slaughter them all. I don’t want any survivors.”

Arlin paused for a moment. “If that is the lord’s command, then it shall be so.” Speaking his final words, Arlin disappeared through the carriage door.

…

Stepping into the cool night air, Arlin checked over the guards around him, an unreadable expression on his face. A short distance away from the road rested a small village. Beginning to walk toward the village, Arlin commanded, “Follow.”

Wordlessly, the guards moved. The only noise breaking the night was the sound of their boots.

Arlin walked his men slowly through the village, weaving through the roads of soft dirt. He threaded through the village without a sound, like a ghost in the night–watching and silently inspecting the scene around him.

The houses were plain, without fancy adornments. The few shops had weathered signs hanging over the doors. The wooden materials looked beaten and scarred from time. Several houses stood on the verge of collapse, tilting to the sides. It was clear to Arlin that this village was not rich, just an average back-country village barely scraping by.

Arlin turned to face the furthest house, gazing at it for several moments. The guards continued to give him a wide birth, almost like they were afraid to go near. None of the guards dared to break the night’s silence with words, even after several moments passed.

After standing still for several minutes, Arlin softly rubbed his palms together in a fluid motion. As his hands split apart, glowing fire danced on either palm. The glow reflected in his eyes as he gazed into the fire’s depths.

“Spread out. Place temporary seals on every house. No one escapes this village tonight.” Arlin’s tone was soft, but the words he spoke shuttered the guard’s hearts.

The flame’s slight glow illuminated the area around Arlin, extending his shadow back into the darkness and giving him a menacing visage.

The guards stared at the man before them, the flame reflecting in their eyes. But not a one spoke against his orders. They all left, silently carrying out their task.

A few minutes passed without a sound as the men walked through the village. When they were before a house they would move their hands in strange patterns and mumble words under their breath. Then, they would move to the next, looking like nothing had changed.

When Arlin saw that all of the men had successfully sealed every house, he turned his attention back to the structure before him–the only house without a seal. The glow in his eyes brightening as the fire raged in his hands. Raising his hands out in front of him, palms facing the house, Arlin mumbled a few words under his breath.

The next second a torrent of fire burst from his hands. The geyser of destruction quickly enveloping the wooden house in its rage. The wooden exterior vanished, replaced by a sea of orange flame.

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The night brightened as the house became a beacon of light. Arlin killed the jet of flame gushing from his hands, but the fire didn’t diminish in the slightest. Instead, growing stronger as the fire grabbed onto everything it could burn.

Screams rang from within the house as the fire awakened those sleeping within. Arlin stood, emotionless, as the screams filtered into his ears–the fire reflecting in his eyes, brighter than ever before. He gazed at the flame, seemingly mesmerized. The raging inferno flaunting its wrathful beauty before him.

Arlin turned, gliding away from the flaming house, soon standing before another.

“Why won’t the door open?” A man’s voice reached Arlin’s ears through the door.

Arlin listened as the man pounded on the door, struggling in an attempt to force open the seal.

“Daddy? What’s going on? I’m scared.” A softer, childish voice pierced through the wood of the door, filtering into Arlin’s ears.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. The door is just stuck, that’s all. Daddy’ll open it up soon.” The man’s voice again, trying to sound brave, but there was a fear layered within.

The door continued to shake as someone pounded it from the inside, but the seal over the house couldn’t be so easily broken. Arlin silently stepped up, placing a glowing hand on the wooden door.

A split second later, the door exploded inward as a geyser of flame tore into the home.

The flame ran through the home, consuming everything, and everyone, in its path. The fire swirled throughout the home, running up the stairway and into a room. In the corner, a straw teddy bear sat, its one button-eye watching the flame consume. The moment the flame contacted the bear, it erupted, joining the little girl who once held it, in ash.

The flame continued to spread as Arlin walked toward the next house, his palms still glowing with heat. A sudden noise erupted behind him, causing Arlin to turn.

A figure smashed through the door of the first, now half-burnt, house. In his arms, he held a small figure wrapped tightly in a thick cloth. Behind him, another figure tried to follow him as the doorway was collapsing down, but she was smashed down under the burning wood. Her screams piercing the night as the boards holding her down burned into her flesh.

The man turned, setting the cloth-wrapped figure onto the ground before rushing back. A cry tore from his throat as he grabbed the burning debris, the heat burning through his skin. The man lifted with all his strength, attempting to pull the flaming debris off of the woman, but he wasn’t strong enough. The adrenaline coursing through his veins couldn’t allow such a feat of strength, and soon, the woman’s screaming stopped as her only visible hand fell limp onto the ground.

“Nooooooooo!” Another cry ripped through the night, far more ear-piercing than any other. A cry that seemed to originate from the depths of the man’s soul, a haunting cry of despair.

After watching the scene unfold, Arlin turned, continuing his approach to the next house. A soldier stood beside this house, seemingly waiting for Arlin.

Arlin spoke when he was close enough to the soldier. “You know the lord’s rules. Take care of it.”

Silently nodding his head in response, the soldier left Arlin’s side, approaching the first house set ablaze. The soldier walked toward the house steadily, drawing the attention of the man who escaped the flame.

“Who are you?!” The man cried out, gesturing to the burning ruin behind himself. “Did you do this?!”

The soldier said not a word, responding only by pulling a steel blade from the sheathe at his waist. The soldier continued toward the man, blade drawn, never speaking a word.

Seeing the actions of the soldier, the man scooped the bundle of cloth into his arms and took off, running toward the distant forest.

Seeing the man flee, the soldier also increased his speed, chasing the man into the night.

Adrenaline surged into the man’s body, boosting his abilities and blocking the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. His entire back was bare, his skin bloody and blistering. The arms carrying the bundle were melted and bloody, staining and sticking to the cloth as he ran. His heart beat like a war drum in his chest as he approached the forest, drawing nearer to what he believed to be safety.

The man’s hope was pulled from his heart as the tendons in his heels were severed. Even through the adrenaline in his veins, pain exploded into his mind like a bomb.

For a moment, his body became lighter, his legs no longer able to keep him upright. Watching and feeling the ground approaching him, the man made a final effort, twisting his body to not land on the bundle of cloth.

The grass was wettened with blood, the man’s back staining it red as he slid. When he hit the ground, like a popped balloon, all of the adrenaline in his veins dissipated, leaving him unable to raise even a half-melted arm.

Facing the sky, the man was able to see the soldier approaching him, his blade still shimmering in the moonlight. The distant glow of the fires ever-brightening as more houses were added as fuel. The screams of the people he knew tearing apart the silent night around him.

The bundle of cloth had partially come undone, allowing him to see his young daughter’s sleeping face. He watched, unable to do anything, as a sword plunged through his daughter’s body and ripped into his own heart.

…

“Is it done?” A man asked as Arlin climbed through the carriage door.

“My lord will never again have to see this village on his journeys.” Arlin’s face was unreadable, his tone emotionless.

“Good. Seeing this disgusting village once a year would always ruin my mood.” The man spat, venom coating every word. “Now that my mood has returned, where were we?” The man turned, putting his body over an unclothed female laying limply beside him. Her once vibrant eyes lifeless and once lovely skin covered in bruises and cuts from horrible abuse and torture.

The man slobbered around the base of her neck, reaching his hand down to undo his pants. Now freed from his clothes, he shoved himself into her, unpleasantly moaning as he did.

The girl showed no response as he thrust his body back and forth on top of her, slobbering over her body as he did.

Despite the horrifying scene taking place right before him, Arlin simply sat still, legs crossed and back straight. His eyes closed as strange energy began to wrap around his body before being sucked into his pores.

…

The carriage slowly disappeared into the night. Leaving behind the once peaceful village, whose only crime was existing. And the only warning they ever received was fire and death.