The smoke became more distinct as Liam approached, rising in controlled ribbons from chimneys beyond the distant treeline. The cold had thickened into a bite, and the daylight bled slowly across the sky like a wound refusing to heal.
By the time the outer palisades of Redfern Hollow came into view, Liam's feet ached from the unrelenting march. The road had grown more defined—fewer weeds, signs of maintenance, faint wagon tracks pressed into damp soil.
Yet still, the forest did not relent.
Its presence lingered even here, looming just outside the realm of fire and steel.
As he reached the wooden gate, he found it closed. A pair of guards in light gray cloaks stood atop the watchpost, one armed with a halberd, the other crossbow slung lazily over his back. They straightened at the sound of approaching steps.
"Halt," the halberd-bearer called. His voice was not hostile, but neither was it welcoming. Routine, cold with caution. "State your name and business, traveler."
Liam slowed, lifted his hands slightly to show he was unarmed, and forced his voice not to tremble.
"My name is Liam… Liam Ashborn," he said. "I was a resident of Emberglow."
The guards exchanged a brief glance—one of subtle confusion, maybe disbelief.
Emberglow was not far. A neighboring hamlet, trade-linked and nestled within reach. Its destruction, evidently, had not yet reached this village's ears.
"I… I'm the only one left," Liam added, voice quieter this time, each word laced with a truth that tasted like ash. "There was… an attack. Nothing survived."
The halberd-guard descended the ladder after a moment, boots landing with a muted thud against the earth.
Up close, he looked older than Liam had expected—perhaps in his early forties, with specks of white in his ash-brown beard and a sharpness in his amber eyes that suggested experience, not just duty.
"Emberglow… gone?" he asked, more to himself than to Liam.
Then his gaze sharpened again, settling on the boy's features—his disheveled clothes, the weary tension in his shoulders, and the unmistakable flicker of loss behind his crimson eyes.
"You'd best come in," the guard said at last. "You'll want to speak with someone. And maybe sit down."
They walked in silence past the palisade.
Inside, Redfern Hollow was modest but alive. Stone chimneys puffed gentle smoke, the roads were swept, and market stalls—though few—still carried color. Children darted between alleys, and candlelight flickered behind stained-glass windows as evening crept across the village.
The guard led him along a narrow path off the main road, toward a quieter stretch of stone buildings clustered near a training field. After a brief exchange with another guard, he gestured for Liam to follow.
"Name's Ethel Smith," he said, offering a hand as they turned toward the barracks' edge. "Senior gate warden, though that sounds fancier than it is. You really from Emberglow?"
Liam hesitated. Then nodded once.
Ethel's face softened.
"Gods… I thought something was strange. Haven't had a courier or merchant from your way in over a week." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't think it was this bad…"
The older man sighed and opened a side door to a stone watchroom with a long bench and hearth. Motioning for Liam to sit, Ethel pulled a chair across from him and leaned forward.
"I need to ask a few things, alright? Nothing too hard. Just for the record."
Liam nodded again.
"Anything strange before the attack? Any warnings? Visitors?"
"No… nothing," Liam said honestly. "It was quiet… then one night, everything was gone. I woke up… and there was no one left."
He didn't need to fake the tremble in his voice. The memories were vivid enough.
Ethel watched him carefully but said nothing more for a moment.
Then, without warning, Liam fumbled with his satchel and pulled a few silver coins from his pouch.
"For the toll… and for the trouble," he murmured.
Ethel blinked. Then scoffed softly and raised a hand to push the coins back toward him.
"Don't insult me, boy."
Liam's eyes widened slightly, but Ethel only chuckled.
"We don't take money from orphans who walk out of smoke and ruin with eyes like that. Keep it. You'll need it more than we will."
His voice had no trace of pity—only a quiet, worn kindness.
"Have you got somewhere to stay?" he asked, standing and stretching his back.
"I was going to find an inn," Liam replied.
Ethel's brow furrowed. "Which one?"
"I… I don't know yet."
"Well," the man said, brushing off his cloak, "there's one with decent walls, doesn't smell like piss, and the innkeeper still knows how to smile. It's run by a woman named Merra. Honest sort. Come on, I'll take you."
---
The streets were quieter now as the sun dipped fully behind the trees. The warmth from chimneys and hearths gave the village a fragile comfort.
Ethel walked beside him without the stiffness of a soldier, hands folded behind his back.
"You from Emberglow proper?" he asked, after a time.
Liam nodded. "Born there. Raised there too, I think."
"You think?"
"It's all a little… blurred," Liam said, gesturing vaguely to his temple. "I was knocked out during the attack. Hit my head."
Ethel hummed thoughtfully but didn't press.
"I've got three kids, myself," the man said after a pause. "Two boys and a girl. Wife too, of course. We live over the butcher's stall, just behind the barracks."
There was a warmth in his voice now, faint but real. The sort only a father could summon while talking about family.
"You have any plans, Liam?"
The question was gentle—but loaded.
Liam hesitated only briefly.
"I awakened my skill… the night of the attack," he said. "I want to… apply to the Academy."
Ethel stopped walking.
The air between them seemed to still.
"You awakened?" he asked slowly, his voice low. "At your age?"
"Yes," Liam answered carefully. "I'm… fourteen."
A low whistle left Ethel's lips.
"You're one of the early ones, then. Most don't awaken until fifteen. Fourteen's… rare. Marked, even." He scratched his chin. "What kind of skill?"
Liam shook his head. "Non-combat. Just… luck."
"Huh. Luck," Ethel echoed, and resumed walking. "Well, the gods have a strange sense of humor. But still… an awakened child. You'll do well to reach that Academy. It's not easy to enter, but once you're in, you're protected. Not just by teachers—by fate."
They reached the inn at the end of a winding stone path. The sign above the door read The Tethered Lantern, painted with a flickering design that glowed faintly with minor enchantment.
Ethel pushed the door open, revealing a warm, wood-scented room lit by gentle firelight and candle sconces.
"Merra!" he called.
A stout woman with coppery hair and sharp eyes appeared from behind the counter.
"Evening, Ethel."
"Got a guest for you. One of the Emberglow survivors." the. Ethel explain everything about Emberglow to meera
She blinked. Her expression softened. "Ah… gods bless."
Ethel turned to Liam. "Merra'll take care of you. Food, bed, warmth. I'll vouch for him, Merra. Give him a room at half rate. He's got coin, but don't skin him."
She smirked. "You know me better than that."
Liam offered a small bow. "Thank you. For everything."
Ethel clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Rest, lad. If the gods spared you, they had a reason."
Then he was gone.
And Liam stood in the glow of the hearth, eyes on the crackling flames, already wondering what waited on the road ahead.