The stench of burning wood and flesh filled the night air.
Adila ran.
Her bare feet pounded against the dirt road, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Smoke stung her eyes, blurring the sight of her village engulfed in flames. Somewhere behind her, Magari struggled to keep up, her frantic sobs lost beneath the roar of fire and the screams of the dying.
They had been gone less than an hour—running errands in the fields outside the village. An hour. That was all it had taken for everything to be destroyed.
Her father. Her mother. Her brother.
Dead.
The sight burned into her mind—bodies strewn across the ground, their home collapsing in a heap of embers. And standing amidst the carnage, a group of men with swords drawn, their laughter carrying over the screams.
They had not seen her. Not yet.
"Faster," she hissed at Magari, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the shadows of a nearby cart. They crouched low, their bodies pressed against the wheels, listening.
"They're dead," a gruff voice muttered from the road. "Search the houses for anything worth taking. The master said to burn it all."
Adila swallowed hard, pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. The master. She knew who had done this.
Master Renard, the merchant lord, her father's greatest rival.
Her father had fought for everything—his freedom, his business, his family's place in a world that still saw them as nothing. Renard had wanted him gone for years. And now he was.
A boot crunched against the dirt.
Magari whimpered, too loud.
A soldier turned.
"There!"
Adila grabbed Magari and ran.
The shouts behind them grew louder, feet pounding against the earth. Adila wove between burning homes, ducking under collapsed beams, dodging the bodies of neighbors she would never see again.
A man lunged at them from the side. She twisted, dragging Magari with her, and they stumbled through a narrow alley.
She did not stop running. Not when her legs burned, not when the road stretched endlessly before them, not even when Magari fell, scraping her knee raw against the ground.
She yanked her up. "Keep moving."
The shouts grew distant. The fire roared behind them, but they did not turn back.
By the time they reached the forest beyond the village, their bodies were slick with sweat, their throats dry as dust.
Only then did Adila collapse to her knees, clutching Magari as sobs tore through her.
Everything was gone.
And they were alone.