The air in Brighthaven had turned acrid with smoke, the familiar streets now unfamiliar in their chaos. Lucas' pulse thundered in his ears as he and Finn sprinted toward the village, their legs burning from the effort, the stench of burning wood and flesh growing stronger with every step. It was no longer a place of safety and warmth; Brighthaven was drowning in flames, its streets crawling with invaders.
"Lucas!" Finn's voice rang out through the turmoil, his hand gripping Lucas' arm. "We need to find our families, now!"
Lucas nodded, his chest tight, but his mind numb. His gaze darted around the village, scanning the chaos for any sign of his mother. He saw people running—some screaming, others stumbling. Fires had already consumed several houses, their thick black smoke blending with the red glow of the flames. The villagers were scattered, desperate, but in his heart, Lucas only had one thought: his mother.
"I'll find her!" Lucas shouted over the din of the carnage, his voice cracking with urgency. He broke away from Finn and dashed toward their cottage, his feet pounding against the cobblestone path.
"Be careful!" Finn called after him, but Lucas was already gone.
The familiar sights of Brighthaven were distorted now—war had ravaged its calm beauty. The small stone houses, once quaint, now stood in ruin, windows shattered, doors hanging off their hinges. As Lucas reached his home, he saw it. The front door was ajar, smoke rising from inside. The faint smell of burning wood mixed with the acrid scent of blood. His heart pounded faster.
"Mom?" His voice cracked as he called out, stepping inside cautiously.
The house was eerily silent. The usual warmth of the hearth had been replaced by coldness. His eyes scanned the room, desperately searching for any sign of her. And then he saw it—his mother, Evelynn Brand, lying on the floor near the fireplace, her body unmoving. Blood stained the hem of her once-clean dress, pooling around her. Her eyes were closed, but there was still a faint rise and fall to her chest.
Her face was pale, her body unable to move, crushed by debris. But she was alive.
Evelynn's eyes fluttered open, weakly. Her lips parted, but no words came. She tried to lift her hand, but it fell limply to the ground.
Lucas tried to rush towards her but before he could react further, a low, guttural laugh echoed from the doorway. His blood ran cold as a dark figure emerged from the smoke, clad in the grim armor of the Bloodlord's soldiers. The soldier's helm gleamed with an eerie red glow, and the emblem of the Bloodlord—a black skull with crossed axes—was stamped on his chest.
The soldier's massive axe gleamed in the firelight as he raised it high above his head. Lucas froze, his body rooted to the spot, helpless in the face of the impending horror. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His mother was right there—so close, yet so far.
"No!" Lucas shouted, his voice barely audible, but it was too late.
The soldier swung down with a brutal force, the axe slicing through the air with deadly precision. There was a sickening thud as the blade cleaved through his mother's neck. Her body went limp, her head rolling to the side, her lifeless eyes staring at Lucas.
"No!" Lucas screamed, his hands trembling with his arm stretched towards his mother's body as if in an attempt to reach for her. His heart shattered, a wave of cold rage and disbelief crashing through him. He tried to move, to do something, but his limbs were frozen, as if the very act of witnessing his mother's death had stolen every ounce of energy from his body.
Tears poured from his eyes, but his face was an empty mask. His body didn't react. His mind was a blank slate, consumed by the overwhelming silence of the moment. The world around him blurred into a haze of smoke and fire.
The soldier moved towards him, his eyes gleaming with malice. Lucas felt his heart hammer in his chest as the soldier's boot steps grew closer, his axe still dripping with his mother's blood.
Suddenly, a shout pierced the air, followed by the sound of fast footsteps.
"Lucas!" Finn's voice was frantic as he appeared in the doorway, breathless from running. He grabbed Lucas by the shoulder, his grip tight, pulling him away from the carnage. "We have to go. Now!"
But Lucas didn't respond. He was still frozen, staring at the body of his mother. His body trembled with the weight of his grief, but no words came. Finn's voice, desperate and urgent, seemed distant to him.
The soldier raised his axe, ready to strike, but just as Lucas thought the blow would fall, a flash of silver light exploded through the smoke. A blade, gleaming with an ethereal glow, cleaved the soldier in two with terrifying precision.
The soldier's body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his axe dropping from lifeless hands. Standing in the midst of the smoke and flames was a figure draped in brilliant silver armor, the light of the dying sun catching the edges of her plate and glimmering like a beacon. She was tall, poised, and radiated an aura of power and authority. Her long, silver hair flowed like a river of moonlight, and her eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to cut through the smoke itself.
She was a White Knight of the Grand Aurelius Empire—the legendary Astrid Silverflame.
"Get up, now!" Astrid commanded, her voice like steel. Her gaze was unyielding as she stepped forward, her sword still glowing with the remnants of her strike.
Lucas' mind was still numb, his body unwilling to respond to the command. His legs felt like lead, his heart an empty cavity. The scene before him was too much—too raw. His emotions were a maelstrom, but he couldn't reach them. He couldn't feel anything except the weight of loss.
"Go to the forest," Astrid continued, her voice firm yet laced with compassion. "The survivors are there."
Finn grabbed Lucas' arm, his grip firm and insistent. "We need to go, Lucas. Come on. We can't stay here."
Still silent, Lucas allowed himself to be pulled away, his body moving without direction, as if guided by an invisible force. His eyes were still empty, his heart in a distant, unreachable place, and yet his tears flowed endlessly, dripping down his face without the strength to stop them.
As they moved toward the edge of the village, the smoke and chaos fading behind them, the forest loomed ahead—a silent refuge, a place of safety amidst the devastation. Lucas didn't know what lay beyond the trees, but for now, it was the only place left to go.
And as the weight of the world pressed down on him, he couldn't stop the flood of tears. They flowed freely, unstoppable, just like the fire that had taken everything he had ever known.