Screams of horror and pain pierced the night as the attackers descended upon the village like a shadow. Their arrival was sudden, leaving no time for the villagers to react.

The air grew heavy with fear as the older residents froze in place, their minds unable to process the chaos. The younger villagers clutched their parents, while others hurried to find cover. Murmurs of confusion spread like wildfire.

“Why are they here? What do they want?”

Before anyone could comprehend, the attackers began their assault. They moved with ruthless precision, harassing anyone who stood in their way.

The guards, though outnumbered and untrained for such brutality, rushed forward to defend their home. Clutching spears and worn swords, they charged the invaders with desperate courage. Their resolve was strong, but their skills were no match for the attackers’ brutal efficiency. Within moments, several guards lay lifeless on the cobblestone streets, their weapons clattering to the ground.

The hunters, seasoned in dungeon raids but unprepared for this level of organized violence, stepped in next. Their bravery burned brightly, but even they couldn’t stem the tide. The attackers outmatched them in skill and number, overwhelming them with ease.

One of the attackers sneered as they struck down a hunter. “Pathetic. Is this the best they’ve got?”

Another chuckled darkly, his blade dripping with blood. “This is almost too easy.”

The villagers screamed, panic spreading like wildfire as fire engulfed their homes. Flames licked at the wooden structures, consuming the once-quiet village in a blaze of destruction. Shops were raided, houses torn apart, and anyone caught in the attackers’ path was ruthlessly cut down.

The church, a symbol of hope and sanctuary, was no exception. Old and young alike huddled inside, praying for salvation. The attackers showed no mercy, setting the building ablaze and laughing as the screams inside were swallowed by the flames.

One attacker leaned on his blade, watching the chaos with satisfaction. “Burn it all. Leave nothing behind.”

The village’s cries of agony rang out into the night, unanswered.

Till stood near the blacksmith’s forge, his chest heaving as he gripped a hammer. His knuckles turned white as he looked around at the carnage. Despite his fear, he refused to back down.

“Get away from them!” he yelled, swinging the hammer with all his strength.

The attacker he struck staggered back, clutching his side. But the victory was short-lived. Another attacker came up behind Till, knocking him to the ground.

“Big mistake, kid,” the man growled, slashing at Till with a curved blade.

Till cried out, blood pooling beneath him as he clutched his chest. But even then, he refused to let go of the bracelet Nyx had given him. His hand trembled as he held it close, the metal warm from his grip.

“This… isn’t… yours,” he whispered, his voice weak but defiant.

The attacker sneered, prying the bracelet from Till’s hand. “Not anymore.”

Spitting at Till’s feet, the man walked away, leaving the boy to bleed out in the dirt.

Till’s vision blurred as he crawled toward the chief’s house, his body trembling with every movement. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, memories of Nyx flashing in his mind.

“I hope… she doesn’t come back,” he murmured, tears streaking his bloodied face.

Inside the chief’s house, Till reached for a loose floorboard. His fingers scraped against the wood as he pried it open, revealing the small pouch Nyx had given him years ago.

He clutched it tightly, his breaths shallow. “Nyx… I’m sorry… I couldn’t… protect them…”

The last thing Till saw was the fire consuming the village, a fiery reflection in his tear-filled eyes.

The attackers stood at the edge of the village, watching their handiwork. One of them chuckled, tossing a small pouch of stolen coins into the air and catching it.

“Easy money,” he said.

His companion smirked. “Boss will be pleased. Not a soul left.”

Their leader stepped forward, surveying the burning village with a satisfied expression. “Good work. Let’s move on.”

As they disappeared into the night, their laughter echoed through the charred remains of the once-thriving village.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air reeked of blood and ash, thick and suffocating as Nyx strolled toward the village, her mind still filled with thoughts of her recent success. Her steps were light, and a faint smile played on her lips, completely unaware of the shift in the atmosphere.

It wasn’t until the distant outline of the village walls came into view that unease began to creep in.

“Nyx,” Uriel’s voice broke through her thoughts, tense and sharp. “Look.”

She followed his direction, her eyes widening as the reality of the scene ahead became clear. The wooden walls that once stood tall were in ruins, crumbled and scorched. Faint trails of smoke twisted into the darkening sky. The ground was streaked with blood, and the village—her home—was eerily silent.

Her heart sank.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “This can’t be happening.”

Her pulse quickened as fear clawed its way up her throat. Without hesitation, she teleported straight into the village square.

She appeared amidst utter devastation. Everywhere she looked, chaos reigned.

The cobblestone streets were slick with blood, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and flesh. Houses that once brimmed with warmth were reduced to smoldering piles of ash. The lanterns that had once lit the paths were shattered, their glass shards glittering against the dying embers.

Bodies lay scattered in every direction. Mothers clutching children, guards with broken weapons, elders who had tried to shield their neighbors—all motionless.

Nyx’s chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes.

She stumbled forward, her boots splashing through blood as she ran toward the orphanage.

The door was barely hanging on its hinges, the wood splintered and blackened. Inside, the air was suffocating, filled with smoke and the lingering cries of those who had perished.

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“Sister Clara!” Nyx’s voice broke as she called out, hoping, praying for an answer.

She found her near the far corner, her body curled protectively around a young child. Both of them were lifeless, their faces frozen in pain.

Nyx dropped to her knees beside them, her hands trembling as she reached for Sister Clara’s cold, lifeless hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve protected you.”

Uriel spoke softly in her mind. “Nyx, you need to keep moving. There may still be survivors.”

With great effort, Nyx forced herself to stand, wiping her tears as she turned toward the guild.

Nyx broke down, her knees buckling beneath her as grief overwhelmed her. Hot tears streamed down her face, falling to the blood-soaked ground beneath her.

This can’t be real.

She tried to convince herself that this destruction wasn’t what it looked like—that it couldn’t possibly be her village. But the lifeless bodies and the smoldering ruins surrounding her screamed otherwise.

Desperation clawed at her chest. She forced herself to her feet, shaky and breathless, and began searching frantically for the village leaders.

Her search brought her to the main square, where signs of a brutal struggle were evident—burned-out weapons, shattered shields, and charred banners scattered the ground.

The leaders had clearly fought valiantly, but as she found their broken bodies lying among the wreckage, the harsh reality set in. They hadn’t stood a chance.

Nyx’s breath hitched, her throat tightening as a lump of sorrow and rage rose within her.

Uriel’s voice broke through the fog in her mind. “Nyx, breathe,” it urged gently. “You need to stay calm.”

But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

The devastation around her was too much.

She stumbled away from the square, her legs carrying her almost on instinct.

The guild.

There’s no way they…

She reached the burnt remains of the guild hall, her stomach twisting at the sight. The proud building, once a beacon of camaraderie and strength, was reduced to ashes.

Her heart pounded as she stepped over the charred rubble, searching for any sign of life. But all she found were the bodies of Lyssandra, the guild master, and the remaining guild members.

The scent of smoke and death hung heavy in the air, suffocating her.

Everyone was gone.

Her knees buckled again, and she collapsed onto the scorched ground, tears streaming freely down her face.

She was too late.

She continued to run through the wreckage, desperation clawing at her with every step. The village was eerily silent except for the crackling of flames and the occasional groan of collapsing structures. Nyx’s breath came in ragged gasps as she scanned the carnage, frantically searching for any signs of life.

But there was no one.

Not even the guards who had always stood watch.

Her legs carried her to the blacksmith’s forge, her heart clinging to a fragile hope. “Maybe Till made it. Maybe he’s hiding,” she thought, her breath catching.

The forge was empty.

Her chest tightened painfully as she called out his name. No response.

“Till!” she cried, her voice cracking as she ran toward the village chief’s house.

When she reached it, the sight made her stomach churn. The chief’s body lay slumped on the ground, his head severed and discarded carelessly beside him. Blood stained the walls, the floor—everywhere.

Nyx’s vision blurred as she turned away from the grisly scene, her mind pleading for a different outcome. She staggered forward, searching for her friend.

And then she saw him.

Till lay crumpled in the dirt, his body broken and surrounded by a pool of dark, glistening blood.

“No… no, no, no!”

A scream tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained, as she dropped to her knees beside him.

“Till!” she sobbed, shaking his lifeless body. His face was pale, his eyes closed, and his chest unmoving.

She pressed her hands to his wounds, willing her healing magic to work. Golden light flickered faintly from her palms but dissipated almost immediately.

Her magic didn’t work on others.

“No… no, please…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Desperation turned to panic as she searched her dimensional space for a healing potion, tearing through its contents with trembling hands. There was nothing.

She had never bothered to make any.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” she wept, cradling his lifeless hand. “You can’t leave me, Till… please!”

Her cries echoed through the ruins, but the silence that followed was deafening.

After a moment, Uriel spoke softly in her mind. “Nyx, I’m sorry. There is one thing you could do. You can use necromancy… but only his soul will return. He won’t be able to stay for long, and he might choose not to remain in this realm at all.”

Nyx’s heart clenched painfully. She didn’t want to let him go—not like this.

“Do it,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute.

“Are you sure?” Uriel asked gently.

“I have to,” Nyx said. “I need to see him one last time.”

Uriel didn’t respond but allowed her to proceed.

Nyx steadied herself, tears streaming down her face as she extended a trembling hand over Till’s body. Her voice cracked as she gave the command.

“Rise!”

The air grew cold, swirling with a mix of black and silver smoke. Tendrils of energy coiled around Till’s form before his translucent soul emerged, glowing faintly with a gentle light.

Till’s eyes widened as he looked at Nyx, his expression filled with disbelief. “Nyx…?”

She broke down, her sobs echoing in the stillness. “Till, I’m so sorry… I couldn’t save you… I wasn’t here…”

His gaze softened. “You… you tried. You always try, Nyx. It’s not your fault.”

Nyx shook her head vehemently, unable to accept his words.

Till reached out, his incorporeal hand brushing against hers. “I did my best… I tried to protect them. I swear.”

“You did, Till,” she said through her tears. “You did everything you could.”

His faint smile faltered, and he looked down at his hands. “I… I couldn’t hold on to much. But this…”

From within his fading form, he produced the small pouch Nyx had given him so long ago. It was untouched, perfectly preserved despite the chaos around them.

Nyx stared at it, overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. “You saved it?”

“I promised to keep it safe,” Till said, his voice trembling. “For you.”

She cried harder, clutching the pouch close to her chest. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Till. Thank you.”

The glow of his soul began to dim, and Till’s gaze turned upward. “It’s time… I have to go now.”

“No!” Nyx cried. “Stay… please…”

“I can’t,” he said softly. “But I’ll always be with you, Nyx. Always.”

They exchanged one last look, their eyes locking as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Goodbye,” Till said, his voice barely audible as his soul dissolved into a faint shimmer of light.

Till’s hand went slack, and the pouch he had clung to so desperately slipped from his grasp. It landed softly beside him, untouched and unharmed despite the chaos. Nyx’s tear-filled gaze lingered on it for only a moment before she looked away, her grief far too consuming to focus on such a small detail.

She stood slowly, her body trembling with a mix of despair and rage. She slouched at the village’s opening, staring at the destruction before her.

Her chest felt heavy, as if her heart was being crushed by the weight of her emotions. Heartbroken, furious, and utterly powerless—she couldn’t even begin to put her feelings into words.

It was happening again.

The same agony, the same loss.

And this time, it was her home.

Her aura, usually tightly controlled, began to slip. Shadows rippled faintly around her feet, their edges jagged and unstable, reflecting the storm of emotions she could no longer contain.

Nyx clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to stay composed. But the more she looked at the devastation—the blood-streaked ground, the smoldering ruins of homes, the lifeless bodies scattered everywhere—the harder it became to hold herself together.

She was angry.

Angry at the ones who had done this.

Angry at the constellations who had stood by and done nothing.

Her fury burned hotter than the fires still smoldering in the ruins.

“Why didn’t they stop this?” she whispered, her voice shaking with rage. “Why didn’t they do anything?”

Uriel’s voice echoed softly in her mind, a calm amidst her storm. “Nyx, I know you’re angry, but—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice sharp. “They’re useless. Incompetent. They call themselves gods, but they didn’t lift a finger to help. Not one.”

Her shadows twisted violently at her feet, surging with her emotions.

“I can’t let this go. I can’t just stand here and let this happen again,” she said, her voice hardening.

She turned toward the ruins, her gaze icy and focused. “Uriel,” she commanded, “call my shadows.”

One by one, her shadow soldiers materialized around her. Frosty towered above the others, his silver and black form radiating cold fury. Len and Ryu flanked her protectively, their glowing eyes fixed on her. Zarvok and the shadow goblins appeared next, their forms flickering like dark flames.

Nyx’s voice was steady and devoid of emotion as she issued her order. “Search the area. Find anyone who’s still alive. And find the ones who did this.”

Her soldiers bowed their heads in unison, acknowledging her command before scattering into the night.

Uriel’s voice was cautious. “Are you sure about this, Nyx?”

She didn’t answer immediately, her gaze fixed on the distance. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and resolute.

“It’s the least I can do for them,” she said. “They protected me. They gave me a home. If no one else will act, I will.”

Uriel hesitated before replying, its tone softer. “If it becomes too much, I’ll take over.”

Nyx nodded faintly but didn’t respond.

She stood there, unmoving, her heart a battlefield of emotions. She wasn’t just grieving—she was planning.

Her shadows disappeared into the night, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the destruction around her.

“This will never happen again,” she vowed silently.

And as the winds carried the scent of blood and ash, Nyx prepared herself for whatever came next.