The sun blazed high in the sky, its warmth blanketing the quiet village nestled in a valley surrounded by rolling hills. Aiden ran barefoot through the fields, his laughter carried by the wind. He stretched out his hand, palm open, as a small flame flickered to life above it, dancing with every movement he made.
"Careful, Aiden!" his mother called from the doorway of their modest cottage. Her voice was warm but tinged with worry. "You know what we've said about using your powers outside."
Aiden extinguished the flame with a quick snap of his fingers, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, Mother! I was just practicing."
His mother sighed and waved him inside. "Practicing is fine, but only when no one else can see. You don't understand how dangerous it is if the wrong people find out."
Aiden trudged back, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight. At ten years old, he already knew his powers made him different—special, even. But his parents' warnings weighed on him. He had heard whispers of soldiers and kingdoms that sought out people like him, people with powers, only to use them as tools or destroy them out of fear.
The village bustled with the gentle hum of everyday life. Farmers tilled their fields, children played by the stream, and elders shared stories under the shade of the great oak tree in the village square. The air smelled of fresh bread, tilled earth, and the faint hint of smoke from cooking fires.
But the serenity of the day was not to last.
---
That night, the peace shattered.
Aiden awoke to the sound of screams and the acrid stench of smoke. His small room, usually illuminated by the faint glow of moonlight, was thick with shadows and the flickering red of flames outside.
"Aiden!" his mother's voice pierced the chaos. She burst into his room, grabbing him by the arm. "We have to go, now!"
"What's happening?" Aiden asked, his voice trembling. He stumbled out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor.
"Soldiers," his mother whispered, her voice choked with fear. "The kingdom has found us."
They ran into the main room where his father stood, gripping an old, rusted sword. "Go with your mother," he ordered. "I'll hold them off."
"No, I can help!" Aiden said, desperation in his voice. He raised his hand, trying to summon the flames that came so easily during the day. But nothing happened. His powers were tied to the sun, leaving him helpless in the darkness.
"Aiden, go!" his father shouted, just as the door splintered under the force of a heavy boot.
His mother pulled him out the back door, tears streaming down her face. Behind them, the village burned. People screamed as soldiers clad in black armor stormed through the streets, cutting down anyone who resisted.
They didn't make it far. A group of soldiers spotted them, and Aiden's mother pushed him behind her.
"Run, Aiden!" she screamed.
"I'm not leaving you!"
Before he could argue further, a soldier struck her with the hilt of his sword, sending her crumpling to the ground.
"No!" Aiden screamed, rushing to her side. He glared at the soldiers, his hands shaking as he tried to summon even a spark of fire. But the night betrayed him; his powers remained dormant.
The last thing he saw before a heavy blow to the back of his head sent him into darkness was the flames consuming his home and the lifeless form of his mother lying beside him.
---
Aiden woke to cold stone beneath him and the stench of damp air. His hands and feet were shackled, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance.
He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed where the soldier had struck him. Blinking through the haze, he realized he was in a cell—deep underground, far from the light of day.
His powers were useless here.
Tears welled in his eyes as the weight of everything crashed down on him. His village was gone. His family was gone. He was alone.
But even as despair threatened to consume him, a small flame ignited within his heart. He clenched his fists, the cold metal of his shackles biting into his skin.
One day, he would see the sun again. One day, he would make them pay.