The air was thick with the sharp, acrid smell of smoke, oppressive and bitter. Flames crackled like wild laughter, lighting the village in a hellish glow.
"Mother... cough... cough... mother, what's happening? There's fire everywhere!" Killian's voice quivered as he clung to his mother's leg, his small fingers clutching the fabric of her dress tightly.
His mother's heart raced as she felt his tiny, fragile body tremble against her. Quickly, she covered his mouth with a palm that shook not only from fear but also from the weight of unshed tears.
"Shhh... don't make a sound," she whispered, her voice barely rising above the crackling flames. "You'll be okay. Don't be afraid. Mother will keep you safe."
Not forgetting the other child nearby, she turned to Amara, who looked up with wide, frightened eyes. "Amara, don't be afraid. Aunty will protect you."
The little girl nodded, her gaze darting anxiously as her chest rose and fell rapidly.
