As Nova and Mira stepped out of the house, the air hit them—cold and heavy with smoke.
The sunlight filtered through the haze, weak and gray, falling over the village that once felt alive. Now, only scattered embers flickered, glowing faintly in the wind like dying fireflies.
Along the dirt road, a line of survivors trudged from the outskirts toward the village center.
Some cried out names that would never answer again. Others stumbled in silence, clutching wounds or dragging the limp forms of loved ones.
The world had fallen quiet, save for the muffled sobs and the shuffling of bare feet over ash.
It had been about an hour since Nova reached home.
His eyes drifted over the line until he caught sight of a familiar face. "Haru…?"
The boy turned at the sound, disbelief flashing in his tired eyes. "Nova?!"
He broke away from the line and rushed over, dust and soot covering his torn clothes.
"Haru! Are you okay? Where's your mom and dad?!" Nova asked quickly, hope slipping through his voice.
Haru managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. My dad's up ahead helping people. Mom's behind somewhere—I think she was checking on the injured."
Nova let out a shaky breath. "I see…" He lowered his gaze, relief flickering in his chest for a moment of normalcy amid the ruin.
Most of the families from their side of the village—the outer ring—had survived. That alone was a miracle.
Then Haru's eyes fell on Nova's shirt, and the color drained from his face. "Nova… why is there blood—?"
Nova's lips trembled. He looked down, his voice faint. "My mom… she didn't make it. And I still don't know about my dad."
The air between them froze. Haru took a step back, his face pale. "No way…" he whispered. "I'm sorry, Nova… I really am."
Nova shook his head. "It's okay. I can't change the past. But I have to find him—my dad might still be out there."
Haru clenched his fists, then nodded. "Then I'll help you."
"What about Tama?" Nova asked suddenly. "Do you know anything about him?"
Haru hesitated. "I saw him running toward the outskirts earlier, but he was too far. Haven't seen him since… maybe he already made it back to the village."
"I see…" Nova murmured.
Before they could say more, a woman's voice called out, "Haru!"
His mother stood at a distance, who now caught up with him, waving for him to come.
"I'll be right back!" Haru ran to her, exchanged a few rushed words, then returned to Nova, his face determined.
"She understands. Let's find your father."
Nova nodded once. "Alright."
They ran—three small figures against the fading light of a ruined village.
As they neared the main street, the air thickened with the stench of smoke and blood. Burned homes leaned like skeletons of what once was. The dirt road was littered with broken wood, scorched tools, and still bodies.
Haru's pace slowed. He glanced at Mira, who held tightly onto Nova's hand, her face streaked with tears. "How's she holding up?"
Nova's voice was quiet, strained. "She cried herself empty… If we stop now, she'll start again. I can't let her see more than she already has."
Haru nodded silently. His gaze softened with guilt as he looked forward again.
They reached the street's end—what was once the heart of their village. There, the devastation deepened.
Charred corpses lay across the ground. The air shimmered faintly from lingering heat. Mira hid her face in Nova's chest, trembling.
"Don't look," Nova whispered, covering her eyes. He could barely keep his own from closing at the sight. Every shadow looked like it could be her—his mother—burnt and lost among the rest.
Not far ahead, five bodies of demons lay sprawled on the ground, black blood seeping into the dirt. Around them stood ten soldiers wearing armor marked by a tree symbol—the emblem of the kingdom's forces. But the two Iron Mantle soldiers were nowhere to be seen.
As Nova's eyes fell on the demons, something inside him twisted. His jaw tightened, and his hand curled unconsciously into a fist. Images of the flames, his mother's last smile, flashed in his mind.
He turned away.
Not now.
They passed through what used to be the main road's market stretch. The large fire that had once blocked it was nearly extinguished, leaving behind a melted scar on the stone. The heat had warped even the air itself. Nova kept moving forward, gripping Mira close as they stepped around the bodies.
Then—
"Nova!"
A voice called out from ahead. A man, ash streaked in his beard, was helping an injured woman sit up.
"Mr. Garil!" Nova ran closer, relief flaring in his chest. "You're alive!"
"Barely," the man huffed, forcing a smile. "Are you two alright?"
"Yeah, but…" Nova hesitated. "I can't find my dad."
Garil's face darkened. "I saw him earlier—he was in the market square, injured but breathing. Old Maela was tending to the wounded there."
Nova's eyes widened. "He's alive?"
"Last I saw, yes."
Nova bowed his head quickly. "Thank you, Mr. Garil."
"Go," Garil said, turning back to the wounded woman. "Go find him."
They continued running, hope igniting inside Nova like a fragile flame.
Soon, they reached the great oak tree at the village center—or what was left of it. Its trunk was scorched, half its branches gone, yet still standing tall amidst the ruin.
But before they could reach it, they noticed something strange. A crowd of people had gathered near the base of the tree—fifteen, maybe twenty of them, all standing close together.
Nova stopped, lowering Mira gently to the ground. "What are they doing?" he asked.
"I don't know," Haru murmured. "Let's see."
As they approached, faint whispers drifted from the group. The closer they got, the more they heard—the broken rhythm of people speaking in disbelief, their words heavy with sorrow.
"I can't believe it…" one man said.
"Yeah… who could've expected this," another muttered.
Nova frowned, pushing gently through the crowd. Haru followed close behind, Mira clinging to his arm.
"I feel bad for his parents…"
"They must be proud, though."
Nova and Haru exchanged a look. Confusion flickered in their eyes.
"What was his age?" someone asked.
"Ten, maybe eleven," a woman whispered. "Such a young boy."
A hush fell over the crowd, broken only by soft crying.
Nova froze mid-step. A boy. His age.
He felt Mira's hand tighten around his sleeve. Haru looked pale.
"What are they talking about…?" Mira whispered.
A man near the front shook his head, voice low and mournful.
"The boy wasn't even from the main village."
Nova's breath caught in his throat. He could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"Do you know his name?" another voice asked quietly.
There was a pause. Then came the answer—soft, trembling, yet cutting through the silence like a blade.
"No, I dont. Wait… I think it was Tama?"
...
The world seemed to stop.
Haru's lips parted, but no sound came out. Mira's grip on Nova's arm went limp. Nova just stood there, staring at the crowd, his mind blank—his heart sinking deeper than words could reach.
The smoke still hung heavy, the air still burned—but now, it was the silence that hurt the most.