The three of them stood in silence at the edge of what had once been their home.
Charred remains of houses rose like broken teeth from scorched earth. Smoke had long faded, but its scent lingered in the air, soaked into the blackened timbers and crumbled stones. The wind moved slowly through empty alleys, carrying faint echoes of laughter, footsteps, and life that once filled the village.
Elara took a hesitant step forward. Her eyes swept over the ruins with a strange calm, but her clenched fists betrayed the storm inside.
Sylveras, beside her, breathed deeply, fists trembling. He had prepared himself for this moment—so he thought—but nothing could erase the ache when he saw the old bakery turned to ashes, the remnants of his childhood shattered before his eyes.
Gorion moved ahead silently, his staff tapping against the dirt as he walked toward the village square, now a crater of destruction.
"This..." he muttered, kneeling to inspect the ground. "This wasn't just a raid."
Sylveras looked up. "What do you mean?"
"Most of the homes were burned," Gorion said slowly, fingers brushing against a strange black residue. "But the church—the shrine—was torn apart from the inside. Not burned. Ripped open by force. They were looking for something."
Elara stiffened. "The shrine… that's where I was hiding the children."
Gorion rose, eyes narrowing at her. "No. That's not why they attacked it. They weren't after the children. They were after you."
Elara froze.
Sylveras instinctively stepped between her and Gorion, voice sharp. "What are you saying?"
Gorion's tone softened, but his gaze remained fixed. "They came for her. That much is clear. Rael wasn't there to burn a village. He was there to retrieve someone… and failed."
Elara looked down, shaken. "But why? I'm just a healer. A nobody."
Gorion shook his head slowly. "Perhaps not. Perhaps there is something hidden inside you—even you don't yet understand. Something… powerful."
He turned to Sylveras. "And you. If they're after her, you must grow strong enough to protect her. Not just out of anger or grief. Out of resolve."
Sylveras met his eyes, his own voice firm. "Then teach me."
Elara looked up at them both. "I'll learn too. I don't want to be a burden anymore. I want to fight."
Gorion nodded grimly. "Very well. Then from today, your training will not be kind."
He turned, looking out at the ruined village one last time. "But before that... we must understand who planned this."
He knelt near the remnants of a twisted sigil burned into the earth. A faint magical resonance still clung to it—warped, dark, ancient.
"This magic isn't Rael's alone. There is a mastermind behind him," Gorion said, eyes shadowed. "A powerful being... one who fears interference from above."
He stood again, voice barely more than a whisper. "Whoever this is, they went to great lengths to avoid being noticed. Not by me, not by the kingdom... but by the one who watches all."
Sylveras narrowed his eyes. "You mean... the All-Seeing Eye?"
Gorion nodded. "Yes. There are few who can hide their actions from that divine sight. This was done in secret, fast, brutal, so it wouldn't draw attention from the gods."
Elara glanced at the broken shrine. "Then why now? Why this village?"
"Because it was small. Quiet. Forgotten by most," Gorion said. "But not by them. They knew you were here, Elara. And they almost succeeded."
He turned to them both, his voice suddenly sharp. "You have no more time to grieve. If this was just the beginning, you must be ready for what comes next."
Sylveras and Elara nodded together. A silent vow passed between them.
And as they walked away from the ashes of their past, the wind picked up behind them—carrying only echoes.