Kor hadn't made it far when the sky split open above him. A deafening roar echoed across the landscape, and Kor turned just in time to see it — a massive fireball, hurtling through the sky like a blazing star. It streaked across the heavens, trailing smoke and embers, before crashing down toward the village he had just left behind.
His heart stopped. Without thinking, he sprinted back toward the village, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. Fear gripped him, not for himself, but for the people he had known his whole life. They may have called him cursed, they may have feared him, but they were still his village. His mother had always told him to be kind, to never hold a grudge, no matter how people treated him. That's what it meant to be a good person, she had said.
But as Kor raced back, a deep pit of dread grew in his stomach.
When he reached the village, the scene was worse than he could have ever imagined. The once peaceful homes, the fields of golden crops, everything was in flames. The fire had consumed it all, leaving behind nothing but smoldering ruins and ash. The air was thick with smoke, the sky darkened by the devastation.
Kor stood there, stunned, his chest heaving from the run. The village was gone. Everything he had known, everything familiar, was reduced to charred remains. He moved through the rubble, searching desperately, hoping against hope that someone had survived. But there were no signs of life. No voices, no cries for help. Just silence, and the crackling of the dying flames.
His hands clenched into fists. The villagers may have cast him out, but they had been his people. He had grown up among them, worked alongside them, even when they treated him like an outcast. His mother's words echoed in his mind — always be kind, never hold a grudge. She had raised him to be strong, to endure without hatred. And he wouldn't let this tragedy harden his heart.
Kor knelt on the scorched earth, the red gem still heavy in his pocket. He didn't cry. His sadness ran deeper than tears could express. Quietly, methodically, he began the grim task of burying what little he could find. He dug graves with his bare hands, moving stones and earth to create a final resting place for the people who had once lived in this village.
It took hours, and by the time he was done, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the land into twilight. Kor stood before the makeshift graves, his heart heavy with grief.
"I won't forget you," he whispered, looking out at the silent ashes. "I promise."
But his resolve hardened as he stood there. He wouldn't let this tragedy go unanswered. Whoever had done this — whatever had caused that fireball to fall from the sky — they would pay. He didn't know where to start, or how he would find them, but he would.
And as Kor turned his back on the village for the final time, another thought took root in his mind. His parents had disappeared ten years ago, leaving him with questions he had never been able to answer. He would find them, too. He would search for them, and for the ones who had destroyed his village.
With nothing left behind him, Kor set out into the world. Alone, but no longer lost. He had a purpose now, and nothing would stop him from fulfilling it.