The world was burning.

Flames roared around him, consuming everything in their path. The walls of the family home, once so strong and warm, now groaned under the heat, cracking and splintering. Black smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating, as the fire devoured the timbers, hungry and relentless. Aric’s lungs burned as he gasped for breath, but no matter how hard he tried, the smoke seemed to smother him, choking him from the inside out.

In the chaos, a voice cut through the crackling of flames — a voice that tore at his heart.

"Aric!"

His brother. The scream was full of terror, a desperate cry for help, for salvation, but Aric couldn’t move. His legs were leaden, his body frozen in place as the inferno closed in around him. He could hear his younger brother’s frantic sobs just a few feet away, separated by the debris of what used to be their home. His wide, terrified eyes met Aric’s, pleading.

“Hold on!” Aric tried to shout, but the words died in his throat. His voice, usually strong, was no more than a rasp, swallowed by the smoke and his own helplessness. He reached out, but his hand fell short, the distance between them an impossible gap.

The heat intensified, blistering his skin, his mind a whirlwind of panic and pain. In the distance, through the thick smoke, he could hear his mother’s voice, faint and distant, calling their names. His heart ached, knowing she was far away, unable to help. He tried to listen for his sister, for any sign of her presence, but the fire drowned out everything, a deafening roar that consumed all hope.

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Then he saw his father.

Aric's heart stopped. His father’s body lay before him, crumpled and lifeless, his once proud figure broken and burned. His sword, the same one he had taught Aric to wield, lay discarded at his side, its blade covered in ash. Blood stained the ground, mixing with the soot and the dirt, pooling beneath him like a dark omen.

"No… no, no, no!" Aric choked, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were telling him. His father’s face, usually so stern and resolute, was now empty, his gaze fixed on nothing, his body unmoving. Dead.

The flames surged higher, and his brother screamed again, more desperate than before. Aric struggled to move, to break free from the paralysis that gripped him. His mind raced, every muscle screaming to save his family, to do something, anything, but his body refused to obey.

The heat pressed in on him, searing his skin, and just as the flames surged forward to swallow him whole —

— he woke.

Aric bolted upright, gasping for air, the night cold against his sweat-soaked skin. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat a reminder that it was just a dream. He was alive. The fire wasn’t real. Not anymore.

He looked around, trying to calm the wild thumping in his chest. The campfire crackled quietly in front of him, its glow casting long shadows against the trees. The night was still, save for the gentle rustle of leaves in the distance. The town of Aurendale lay a few miles behind him, its lights now just a memory on the horizon.

For a long moment, Aric sat there, his hand trembling as he ran it through his hair, trying to shake the lingering images of the nightmare. His father’s lifeless eyes. His brother’s screams. The smell of ash still clung to him, though he knew it was just in his head. It always was.

He had been running from that night for years now, but no matter how far he traveled, it always found him.

The fire. The screams. His father’s death.

Aric took a deep breath, steadying himself. The dream would pass, as it always did, but the memories — they stayed, etched into his soul. He reached for his sword, still within arm's reach, its cool hilt grounding him in the present.

The fire in his dream had consumed everything he once loved, but the real fire, the one that had razed his life to the ground, still smoldered inside him.

And someday, he would make sure it burned those responsible to ash.

With one final glance at the dying campfire, Aric pulled his cloak tighter around himself and leaned back against the tree. He needed rest. Tomorrow, he would arrive in Aurendale, and the path ahead would demand all of his strength.

But tonight, he could still hear the echoes of his past.