Smoke filled the sky as it rose from the burning city below. The crumbling of stone and falling towers echoed through the air. A group of riders hurriedly made their way towards the city, their desperation evident in their fast-paced gallop. Amidst the chaos, a commanding voice broke through the howling wind.

"Gilpin, stay back and prepare a teleportation circle. Garick and Drake, ride with me. The rest of you, split into groups and search for any survivors. Bring them back to Gilpin to be sent to Grifden for medical aid. And be cautious, we have no idea who or what caused this devastation."

The speaker, a thin man who wasn't built for combat, led the group at the front. His gaze fixed on the burning city, his heart pounding in his chest. With closed eyes, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves. As he opened his eyes, he led his two companions through the main gate. The remaining members of the group dispersed, scouring the side streets and alleyways in search of any signs of life. Soon, only the man and his two closest companions remained.

"Warren, what could have caused all this?" The speaker's companion, a large lizardfolk brute, questioned. He rode on a brown stallion, his usually green scales reflecting the orange glow of the fire.

"I don't know, Garrick. The message spell I received from my brother mentioned an attack and the need for help, but it was disrupted before he could provide more details. Drake, can your talents pick up anything?" Warren, still gazing ahead at the burning city, turned to his centaur companion.

"Sorry, Warren. My talents aren't picking up anything. At my silver rank, it's rare for an enemy to be able to conceal themselves completely. If they're still here, they must either be incredibly powerful or wealthy. Either way, it's not good news. I didn't spot any signs of large armies, so we may be dealing with a small, well-equipped group or a dangerous individual."

Warren frowned. It had only been a day since he received the plea for help. There weren't many groups capable of orchestrating such destruction in such a short span of time. The thought of the empire crossed his mind, as they had been moving troops along the border. However, Drake's observations ruled out the presence of a large military force. Could it have been a bandit raid? Unlikely, as few mercenary groups possessed the resources to launch such an attack. Whoever was responsible was dangerous, and Warren could only hope they had already fled.

"We need to find my brother and his son. He'll have more information about the situation and who we're dealing with. Let's start by searching the manor. If my brother is anywhere, that's where he'll be. It shouldn't be much farther." Warren spoke calmly, attempting to conceal the tremor in his voice.

A few more minutes of riding brought the manor into view. The good news was that the manor seemed to be less engulfed in flames compared to the rest of the city. The bad news was that two-thirds of it still burned relentlessly. As they rode closer, they continued to scan their surroundings, alert for any signs of survivors or potential danger. The deeper they ventured into the city, the more devastation they witnessed. It was evident that the source of the catastrophe originated closer to the city center. Their horses trudged through layers of ash that coated the streets, making it difficult to breathe. Time was of the essence - Warren needed to act swiftly to save as many lives as possible. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another helpless victim, unable to rescue anyone. As they neared the keep, Warren's guilt intensified. As a member of the noble family that ruled over these lands, he felt responsible for the evacuation of the citizens. But guilt was a burden he would have to bear. A man who couldn't protect his family was no man at all. Suddenly, the grinding of stone snapped Warren out of his thoughts. He turned his head quickly towards the source, his eyes widening in surprise as a nearby building's wall crumbled, threatening to fall upon them.

"Garrick, watch out!" Warren's voice cracked like a whip as he shouted the warning.

The lizardfolk looked up, raising his arm, which emitted a faint glow. With a single blow, he deflected the large stones hurtling towards him.

"Warren, what's the plan?" Garrick spoke up, brushing off bits of stone and dust from his arm. His tail lashed nervously as he kept a vigilant eye out for further falling debris.

They were now close to the manor. Fifty feet, thirty feet, ten feet. Warren swung off his horse before it even had a chance to fully halt. He glanced back at his two companions as they stopped next to him. "I'll go in alone. You two stay out here. Drake, make sure there aren't any incoming threats. Garrick, if the building starts to come down on me, I need you to be ready to pull me free, do you understand?"

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"Sir, I don't think that's a good idea. You're not even an oath sworn. There's no way you could survive a minute in that inferno." Warren looked at Drake as he spoke, giving him a pained smile.

"Don't worry about me. I didn't come unprepared. I have a few healing potions and a few magical items that should be able to protect me for a small period of time, at the least. It's more important that I have you out here and support in case there are any complications."

His two companions nodded reluctantly. He knew that neither one of them was happy about him going in alone. He couldn't blame them. They had been through so much together, it didn't feel right leaving them behind. But he had to move fast, and they were just too bulky to move through the rubble quickly. Warren turned and looked at the decaying remains of his childhood home. He felt a surge of determination as he twisted one of the rings he wore. The ring's magic slowly wrapped around him, reducing the heat from the fire and the sheer magical pressure. He took a deep breath and began to run into what could easily be his tomb. His footsteps were drowned out by the sound of flames all around him. He started through the corridors, dodging fallen debris and the reaching fire. He stopped at the rooms that he came across, looking and calling out, but no matter where he searched, he never got an answer. His thoughts began to grow more frantic. Where is everyone? I know there should be at least some staff around here. But no matter how many rooms he checked, he could never find anyone. He could hear the wood and stone structure creak as its own weight started to become too much for it. Soon, he was coming to a large set of double doors. He threw himself against them and then quickly found himself in the main hall of the Airnull Manor. His mind didn't register what he was seeing for a moment. For a second, he thought he somehow ended up outside. Looking up above him, he could see the sky through a huge gaping hole in the roof. Wood and stone were littered across the floor. The floor was scarred by a cone of ash growing wider and wider until it rose up the adjacent wall. Through the center of the cone was a line that was completely clean of ash. At the start of the line, there was a pile of what seemed to be glowing hot metal. And there, sitting next to it, was a young boy crying. Warren was there in an instant, giving the room a once-over. The boy seemed to be unharmed except for his hands. They were blistered and burned as if he had tried to touch the metal. Fumbling at his belt, Warren quickly took off a potion vial and poured a bit of the healing liquid over the boy's wounds. He watched as the flesh began to heal and eventually only left behind a bit of scarring. The boy looked up at him, tears still rolling from his eyes, as he tried to mumble out something. The boy couldn't be any older than 8 or 9 years old. Warren didn't want to overwhelm the child, but he didn't have much choice. He was running out of time.

"Boy, listen to me. This is very important. Do you know where Lord Iivrik is?" As he spoke, he tried to use what he thought was a soothing tone.

The boy looked up at him and began to mumble something. Through the choked sobs and sniffles, one was able to make out a bit of what the boy was trying to say. It sounded almost as if the boy was saying that the Lord was his father and that he needed help. Warren sighed in the moment, the brown hair, the blue eyes, the cleft in his chin. The boy looked so much like him and yet still had traces of his mother.

"What's your name?" Warren already knew the answer, but he just had to be sure.

"Lewin. Are you going to help my dad?"

That confirmed it. The boy sitting in front of him had to be his nephew.

"Yes, Lewin. I'm your uncle. I need you to tell me where your dad is so I can help him."

The boy pointed behind him at something. Warren's head turned. The scene was a chaotic nightmare, with flames devouring everything in their path. Warren's heart pounded in his chest as his gaze fell upon the pile of glowing, nearly molten metal. His eyes widened in horror, realizing what it was. The devastation and loss hit him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in grief. He couldn't bear to look, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Desperation clawed at Warren's soul as he forced himself to snap out of his daze. He turned to the child, his mind racing, searching for a way to protect him. With trembling hands, he removed the ring of protection from his finger, a symbol of his own safety, and placed it onto the boy's small, outstretched hand. The scorching heat enveloped him instantly, searing his skin, but there was no time to hesitate. He had to get Lewin to safety.

Gritting his teeth against the suffocating smoke, Warren scooped the boy up in his arms, cradling him as if his life depended on it. Every breath became a struggle, the air growing thinner with each passing second. Determination etched on his face, he desperately searched for the way out, his thoughts clouded by the chaos surrounding him.

Finally, through the haze, Warren spotted the massive double doors he had entered from. With renewed purpose, he sprinted towards them, navigating through the collapsing corridors and dodging falling debris. The world around him seemed to crumble, as if the very walls were closing in. But he couldn't let himself be consumed by fear. He had to save Lewin.

Timbers crashed down perilously close, threatening to crush them both. Warren moved with a sense of urgency, no longer stopping to search for survivors or call out for help. His focus was solely on escape, on getting Lewin to safety. The journey out of the keep became a frantic race against time.

Stumbling down stairs, darting around corners, Warren's heart pounded in his chest with each step. The deafening sound of falling stones filled his ears, almost drowning out the distant shouts of his companions outside. He pushed himself to the limit, his body aching, but he couldn't afford to slow down.

Just when it felt like all hope was lost, Warren caught sight of his companions' worried faces peering through the opening. Their desperate yells of encouragement barely reached his ears, but their presence fueled his determination. He sprinted towards them, the ground shaking beneath his feet as the world seemed to crumble around him.

Stones rained down faster and faster, threatening to bury him alive. He was so close, just a few more steps. The air grew thick with anticipation, time slowing to a crawl. Warren's heart pounded in his chest as he desperately fought against the collapsing world around him.

And then, in a sickening moment of dread, everything went black. The weight of the falling stones crashed down upon him, crushing his hopes and dreams. The sound of crushing stone filled his ears, a haunting symphony of despair.

The once vibrant city now lay in ruins, consumed by flames and chaos. Shapes moved through the wreckage, searching for any signs of life amidst the devastation. Two figures tirelessly dug through a pile of stones, their determination unwavering. And high above, on a towering pillar of stone, a man laughed cruelly, reveling in the destruction.