The day began quietly.
Too quietly.
Iren noticed it first in the wind.
It felt heavier.
Still.
As if the air itself were holding its breath.
The forge rang as usual behind their home. His father shaped iron with measured precision. Sparks flew in golden arcs before fading into nothing.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The sound had always comforted Iren.
It meant stability.
It meant home.
He wiped sweat from his brow and carried a bundle of shaped metal toward the storage rack. The morning sun hung high, warm and indifferent.
Then—
The birds stopped.
No gradual silence.
No warning.
Just—
Nothing.
Iren frowned.
"Did you hear that?" he asked quietly.
His father paused.
The hammer lowered.
The air shifted.
A tremor passed through the ground.
Not strong.
But unnatural.
From the direction of the forest—
A sound echoed.
Low.
Deep.
Like something breathing through fire.
The first scream tore through the village seconds later.
It wasn't confusion.
It wasn't argument.
It was terror.
Iren dropped the metal he was holding.
"What was that—"
The sky darkened.
Not with clouds.
With heat.
A ripple distorted the air above the village square.
And then—
It split.
A fracture of light and shadow ripped across the open sky.
Just like the dream.
"No…" Iren whispered.
From the distortion, something fell.
A shape wrapped in blackened armor streaked downward like a burning meteor.
It struck the center of the village.
BOOM.
The impact shattered stone.
Houses collapsed outward from the shockwave.
People were thrown from their feet.
Dust swallowed the square.
Iren's ears rang violently.
His father grabbed his arm.
"Inside!"
But it was too late.
Through the settling smoke—
It stood.
Tall.
Obsidian armor traced with molten lines.
A weapon resting at its side.
Its eyes glowed gold.
Not wild.
Not animalistic.
Cold.
Observing.
Another distortion tore open above the rooftops.
Then another.
Three more figures descended.
The village erupted into chaos.
Flames spread as if guided by will.
Screams filled the air.
People ran in every direction.
One of the creatures moved.
Not fast.
Not rushed.
It simply raised its arm.
Fire condensed at its palm—
And released.
A beam tore through two houses in a single motion.
Wood ignited instantly.
The heat slammed into Iren's face.
"It's the dream…" he breathed.
His mother rushed from the house, clutching his younger siblings.
His father stepped forward, gripping a half-finished sword.
"Iren," he said firmly, forcing calm into his voice, "you take your mother and go to the eastern path. Do not stop running."
"But—"
"Go!"
Another creature leapt onto a rooftop.
It scanned the fleeing villagers like prey.
One man tried to fight back with a spear.
The creature did not dodge.
It stepped forward and struck once.
The man fell instantly.
No struggle.
No mercy.
These were not mindless beasts.
They were executioners.
The heat intensified.
A burning beam struck the forge behind Iren.
Wood exploded into flame.
The roof began collapsing inward.
His siblings screamed.
His mother shielded them.
His father shoved Iren toward the road.
"Run!"
Iren stumbled forward.
His legs resisted.
He looked back.
One of the armored figures had turned toward them.
It stepped closer.
Deliberate.
Measured.
It extended its hand.
Flame gathered again.
Time slowed.
His father raised the unfinished sword.
Pointless.
But unwavering.
The creature released the attack.
The world became fire.
The explosion threw Iren backward across the dirt road.
His vision blurred.
His ears screamed.
He tried to stand.
His body refused.
Through smoke and flame—
He saw his home collapse.
He saw shadows move within the fire.
He heard his mother scream once.
Then silence.
The creature turned its glowing gaze toward him.
Alive.
It began walking in his direction.
Iren's hands dug into the dirt.
Move.
Move.
MOVE.
His body trembled violently.
The creature raised its weapon.
Heat surged toward him.
And then—
A different sound cut through the inferno.
A sharp whistle through the air.
Followed by—
SHHHHK.
The creature froze.
For a single second—
A spear of blazing flame had pierced straight through its chest.
The heat surrounding it distorted violently.
The armored figure looked down.
The weapon embedded within it burned brighter than its own flames.
Then—
It exploded into embers.
Iren's vision struggled to focus.
Through the smoke—
A man stepped forward.
Tall.
Calm.
Silver hair tied behind his head.
A long spear of molten fire resting in his hand.
The remaining creatures shifted their attention.
They did not roar.
They did not rage.
They assessed him.
The man spoke only one word.
"Leave."
The ground ignited beneath his feet.
Flames spiraled upward—not chaotic, but controlled.
Precise.
The creatures hesitated.
Then, one by one—
They retreated into the fractures in the sky.
The rift closed.
Silence fell.
The fire continued to consume what remained.
Iren tried to rise again.
His body shook uncontrollably.
The man approached him.
"You survived," he said evenly.
Iren forced himself upright.
His eyes drifted toward where his home once stood.
Nothing remained but burning wreckage.
His voice cracked.
"My family…"
The man's gaze did not waver.
"They are gone."
No softness.
No false hope.
Only truth.
Iren's knees hit the ground.
The tears came then.
Hot.
Relentless.
His hands clenched into the dirt until his knuckles bled.
"I was too weak…"
The man studied him.
Not with pity.
With evaluation.
"What is your name?"
"Iren."
Silence lingered for several seconds.
Then the man spoke.
"I am Aetherion."
The name meant nothing to Iren.
Yet something about it felt ancient.
Heavy.
"You wish to become strong," Aetherion said.
It was not a question.
Through tears, through ash, through devastation—
Iren looked up.
His eyes burned—not with despair.
With resolve.
"Yes."
The flames reflected in his gaze.
And for the first time—
They did not frighten him.