Dull throbbing in the back of my head woke me up. As I regained my senses, I felt heavy weight crushing down on me. My throat felt parched and my lips were dry and hunger didn't make things easy. A new wave of dizziness hit me as I attempted to open my eyes.
'This is certainly not what I would have expected to wake up to… Ugh my head is killing me. What was I even doing to end up like this… Oh right, I slipped during climbing mountain and then my support rope snapped. But I am pretty sure I should have died.'
I tried to move but couldn't move an inch, my left hand and both legs were stuck while my right hand was limp.
'Oh great, I am completely stuck. Why did I even wake up in this situation and why does this thing feel more like a wall than a rock. Hmm… oh well whatever, let's go back to sleep.'
"A survivor, a survivor is stuck here."
A distant voice did reach his ears but he had already departed to wonderland.
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Bellreach was no longer a town. It was a graveyard.
Western part of the town was obliterated, gone from the face of the earth. Nothing remained, every single sign of life and civilization was snuffed out.
Northern sky was copper, stained by smoke that still curled from the skeletons of buildings. Ash fell like snow, soft but suffocating. Each flake carried the memory of fire—burnt cloth, scorched skin, crumbling parchment.
The stone walls, once whitewashed and adorned with trade banners, now jutted like broken teeth. Fires still flickered in the wreckage, and the wind keened through shattered beams like the voices of the dead. Everywhere, bodies. Twisted, charred. Some still clutching the hands of loved ones.
While Southern and eastern part had a deep freeze sweep through the town like a living god's breath—instant, merciless, and precise.
Where once were homes and shops, now stood glittering white tombs. Every building was sealed in a translucent shroud of rime, roofs caved in under the weight of unnatural frost, icicles growing like glass fangs from beams and eaves.
People were frozen mid-step, expressions of horror immortalized in crystalline masks. A fruit-seller still reached for a dropped apple; a mother cradled her infant beneath a collapsed arch; a city guard had died with sword half-drawn, ice creeping up the steel like ivy.
Even the air resisted motion. Breath fogged instantly. The wind no longer howled—it whispered. Time itself seemed afraid to move here.
The town was not the only part that was ruined, even the surrounding forest was destroyed up to miles deep.
The Ducal Army's 9th Reinforcement Battalion were working nonstop, soldiers both on foot or horses and via air on tamed birds were scanning for any survivors. While a group of soldiers were sent to strategic locations to search for clues and valuables.
"Another one here!"
A young soldier knelt beside a collapsed apothecary, pulling a coughing boy from beneath the debris. His skin was blistered and a leg was cut clean off.
Nearby, a healer muttered incantations, hands glowing as she sealed a jagged wound on a woman's leg. But some injuries were too deep for magic. Trauma that no spell could touch.
Lieutenant Maren Duskvale, the field commander, stood near the edge of the ruins, her long coat whipped by the wind. Her face was pale, jaw tight. She had been dispatched last night from the capital after the alarms rang that the lord of the town have been killed and city is in considerable danger. She had expected many things ranging from monster stampede to war but not this. This was much worse.
"What could have caused this much destruction, almost every life in two hundred miles radius has been taken, the only survivors of this tragedy came from the northern part, the region destroyed by fire."
Her second-in-command, Sergeant Calin Varr, spoke with tread and trepidation. She continued.
"From the looks of it, the town's defences stood no chance against the attack, same defences that's had survived countless tribulations for almost three centuries."
"They weren't fighting for the town, they were fighting through it, so much power with so less regard of life, what a terrifying combination."
While they were talking, a man in pristine black imperial uniform walked up to them and said with silent authority.
"That maybe where you will be wrong, miss Duskvale. At least one of the them, if not both, wanted something or someone from here, the other one resisted and you see the results. Well, this will be from where I will be handling the investigation. Apologies, I am Mark Oberoi from Imperial Investigation Department. Thanks for your efforts, miss Duskvale."
Maren Duskvale and her sergeant faced the officer and saluted by holding their left fist over their right chest. Despite the casual words, he outranked them both.
"It is my duty, sir. I will be taking the survivors to nearest town for their settlement. Can I ask what could have caused this tragedy."
"Nothing could be said as of now, results will form only after investigation. Take few of my men to the survivors and let them inquire about the tragedy."
"As you wish, sir"
As he waved them off and began investigating the ruins, the two young women stepped on the horses and along with three investigators went to the temporary camp setup for survivors. The battalion was called out as the site was handed to the investigators.
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The Recovery Camp – Outside the clearing
A tent city sprawled across the grassland; its white canvas stained with soot. Cries of pain and mourning mixed with the low hum of healing wards. Clerics knelt in circles, casting light over the wounded, sweat pouring from their brows. Even divine magic had limits here, hence only very severe cases were handled through magic while normal injuries were treated by artificial medications.
Reinforcement Battalion did not have enough medics to tether to all cases, hence doctors and clerics from neighboring cities and town were called to help.
As Maren and her companions reached the tent, investigators took off with permission to investigate, while her sergeant was still in shock from the destruction she had seen. Maren was relatively composed but was still shaken by the brutality displayed.
Inside one of the tents placed, a young man with platinum blond hair about 18 of age opened his dull red eyes, still drowsy either from sleep or heavy medications.