The village of Ember Hollow smoldered under a crimson sky, its thatched rooftops reduced to ash and its cobblestone streets slick with blood. Shadow, a boy of no more than ten, crouched behind a broken cart, clutching a shard of metal he had picked up from his father's forge.

"Stay quiet," his mother had whispered moments before a raider's blade silenced her forever. Now, all he could hear was the crackle of fire and the guttural shouts of men.

The attackers had come with the night, their faces masked, their weapons sharp. They cared nothing for the lives they destroyed. Shadow's father had tried to fight back, wielding his hammer with the strength of a blacksmith, but even he had fallen.

Shadow's heart pounded as footsteps approached. He tightened his grip on the shard, his knuckles white. A shadow loomed over him, and he sprang from his hiding spot, slashing blindly.

The raider cursed, stumbling back as the shard grazed his arm. Shadow ran, his bare feet striking the burning earth, tears blurring his vision. He didn't stop until the screams of Ember Hollow were far behind him and the forest swallowed him whole.

Exhausted, he collapsed beneath an ancient oak, the shard still clutched in his trembling hand.

The world had shown him no mercy. From that night forward, Shadow vowed he would never be helpless again.