The fire crackles gently in the small stone fireplace, casting shifting shadows across the walls of the cozy home. Leor, a young boy, sits cross-legged on a worn rug in front of his grandpa, his eyes wide with excitement as his grandpa's deep voice fills the room, a leather-bound book resting in his hands.
"And so, with the power of the pawns, the hero charged forward, leading his pawns against the evil king who sat upon the throne," Leor's grandpa reads, his voice rich with energy. "Though the battle was fierce, with the help of his loyal pawns, the hero landed a powerful strike to the king's heart, defeating him and saving the world."
Closing the book with a soft thud, Leor's grandpa looks down to see Leor leaning forward, his fingers gripping his knees. "Grandpa, was the hero real? Did someone really save the world with pawns?"
A gentle chuckle rumbles from Leor's grandpa, the deep lines on his face softening as he smiles. "Ah, Leor… they're only stories. But sometimes, stories give us something to hold on to, something to believe in."
"But I want to be a hero like that," Leor insists, a fierce light in his young eyes. "I'll have my own pawns and protect people too!"
From her spot at the spinning wheel, Leor's grandma glances over and smiles warmly. "The world needs dreamers like you, Leor. But remember, even the greatest heroes start small."
Leor leans his head back, eyes sparkling as he imagines the scenes from the story — a hero standing tall, powerful pawns at his side, facing down impossible darkness. The vision burns in his heart like the fire's glow.
That night, as he lies in bed staring at the wooden beams above, his mind drifts far away. In his dreams, he becomes the hero, saving the world. He doesn't yet know that his own journey is waiting just beyond the horizon, sooner than he could ever imagine.
The years pass. Now sixteen, Leor stands by the window of their small cottage, his eyes fixed on the distant smoke rising beyond the hills. The once-quiet village he knew has been swallowed by a war he doesn't understand.
"Leor," his grandma calls softly, her voice shaking. "Come away from the window."
He listens, stepping back into the warm glow of the fireplace. Nearby, his grandpa sits at the table, methodically sharpening an old knife. The lines on his face are deeper now, carved by years of worry and the heavy burden of what lies beyond their walls.
"Grandpa," Leor asks cautiously, "what's really happening out there? Why is there so much smoke?"
His grandpa doesn't look up. "Sometimes men fight because they can't see another way to live," he says quietly. "It's not for you to worry about. You just focus on protecting your grandma."
A distant shout outside makes Leor's heart pound. His grandma grabs his hand, her frail fingers tightening with surprising strength. "Stay inside, no matter what happens," she whispers urgently, her voice trembling but firm.
Days crawl by. The shouts and clang of battle grow closer, and the small pantry slowly empties. By the third day, the shelves are nearly bare.
"I'll go," his grandpa announces suddenly, standing up. His voice is steady, resolved. "I'll try to find something for us to eat."
"Let me come with you!" Leor pleads, desperation in his voice. "I can help!"
"No," his grandpa says firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You stay here and protect your grandma. That's your duty now."
Leor's fists tighten at his sides, but he nods, swallowing the urge to argue. He watches as his grandpa slips into the fading light, taking only his old knife and a worn burlap sack.
Hours stretch on endlessly. Outside, the wind howls, carrying with it faint echoes of chaos from the village square. Inside, Leor and his grandma sit close to the fire, huddled together, waiting and hoping.
Near midnight, the door creaks open. Leor leaps to his feet, relief washing over him as his grandpa steps inside, his face pale and worn. But Leor freezes.
Behind him, shadows spill into the room. Three soldiers in battered armor push forward, their eyes sweeping over the cottage with sharp, hungry intent.
One soldier shoves Leor's grandpa aside, revealing a towering figure behind them — its glowing core a cold, emotionless blue. The light pulses steadily in its chest as it stands still, like a weapon waiting for orders.
"Cozy little place you've got here," one of the soldiers sneers, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Plenty warm. Got any food?"
Leor's heart hammers in his chest as he steps protectively in front of his grandma. His grandpa, though exhausted and unarmed, raises his hands in a calming gesture.
"We don't want any trouble," his grandpa says, voice steady but tired.
The soldier laughs, sharp and cruel. "Trouble? Old man, you just invited it in."
The figure's core glows brighter, casting eerie blue light across the cramped room. Leor's eyes flicker between the soldiers and the figure, a mix of fear and helpless anger twisting in his gut.
For the first time in his life, he feels completely powerless.
Leor's fists ball at his sides as he watches the soldiers tear through their home. His voice, shaky but defiant, shatters the tense silence.
"Get away from him!" he yells, stepping forward.
The soldiers barely spare him a glance. One lets out a harsh laugh that chills Leor to the bone. "Look at the boy, trying to play hero."
Two soldiers begin overturning furniture and rifling through cupboards, dishes clattering and jars smashing to the floor. The third soldier presses his boot into Leor's grandpa's shoulder, forcing him down.
"Where's the good stuff, old man?" the soldier demands, leaning close.
Leor's grandpa groans but stays silent. The soldier presses harder, making him cry out in pain.
"Stop it!" Leor shouts again, but his voice cracks. His feet feel heavy as stone, frozen in place by fear.
Leor's grandma steps forward, her frail body shaking but resolute. "Leave him alone!" she cries, grabbing at the soldier's arm.
The soldier shoves her aside roughly, and she stumbles into the wall, gasping for breath.
"Grandma!" Leor cries, reaching for her — but his body refuses to move. His legs feel rooted to the ground, trapped by terror.
One of the soldiers lifts a rag from the floor and freezes. Beneath it lies a wooden hatch, barely concealed.
"Well, well," the soldier mutters, grinning as he kneels to open it. "What do we have here?"
In that instant, Leor's grandpa lets out a roar, a sudden surge of strength and determination flooding through him. He shoves the soldier aside and lunges forward, gripping the old knife he had kept hidden.
The blade plunges into the soldier's neck. Blood sprays as the man collapses, choking on his own breath.
"Leor!" his grandpa shouts, his voice sharp and urgent. "Take your grandma and run!"
The command snaps Leor out of his daze. He rushes to his grandma, pulling her to her feet.
"Come on, Grandma," he urges, his voice shaking as he guides her toward the door.
Behind him, the remaining soldiers draw their swords, rage twisting their faces. Leor's grandpa charges at them with a desperate yell, slashing wildly with his knife.
Leor and his grandma reach the door, but before they can escape, the figure stirs.
Its glowing blue core pulses brighter. At first, it stands still — a silent statue in the chaos — but then, as if awakened, it abruptly begins to move.
The figure strides past Leor and his grandma, its towering frame filling the room. It steps into the fight with terrifying precision, seizing Leor's grandpa mid-swing.
"NO!" Leor screams as the figure hurls his grandpa through the window with inhuman strength. The glass explodes in a deafening crash.
Leor's breath catches as he stares at his grandpa's crumpled form outside. Blood pools around him, shards of glass and wood jut from his body. His chest rises and falls weakly, each breath a battle.
"Gerhart!" Leor's grandma shrieks, racing to his side. She drops beside him, tears streaming down her face. "Stay with me! Please, stay with me!"
Leor stands frozen in the doorway, unable to move as two soldiers stride past him, their expressions cold and uncaring.
"Take care of it," one of them orders, gesturing to the figure.
The figure steps through the shattered window, its movements deliberate. It looms over Leor's grandma, who throws herself over Leor's grandpa in a desperate attempt to shield him.
"Stay away!" she cries, her voice raw with terror.
The figure doesn't hesitate. It raises its massive arm and strikes, sending Leor's grandma flying across the yard. She hits the ground with a sickening thud, motionless.
Leor's world shatters. His vision blurs as his legs buckle, dropping him to his knees. He can barely hear the soldiers' laughter echoing around him. All he can do is stare at his broken family, his heart pounding with a mix of grief, rage, and helplessness.
Leor's scream tears through the night, raw and overflowing with fear, rage, and despair. His hands fly to his chest as a strange, warm glow begins to pulse beneath his shirt — a faint flicker of light that intensifies with each surge of emotion.
The chaos around him begins to shift. The once-motionless figure suddenly jerks upright, its movements erratic and twitching, as if something unseen is overriding its control. The soldiers freeze, turning to the figure in confusion.
"What's wrong with it?!" one of them shouts.
Leor hears a sudden roar of noise erupting in front of him—shouts, crashing, and sickening thuds of bodies hitting the ground.
His mind goes blank. Darkness swallows him whole.
When he finally comes to, the world is eerily silent.
His breath is shallow and quick, ears still ringing. His body aches, feeling like it's burning from within, a faint, warm glow pulsing beneath his shirt.
His legs tremble as he forces himself to sit up and look around.
One of the soldiers lies slumped against a towering tree, impaled by jagged branches that pierce through his armor and flesh, blood darkening the bark around him.
The other soldier is collapsed on the cold ground nearby, lifeless and broken—his body twisted unnaturally, bones shattered beneath torn, bloodied clothing.
Not far off, the figure lies prone in the dirt, its head torn from its neck, jagged remnants exposed, lifeless and still.
The cold night air presses down on Leor, heavy with silence and loss.
His heart pounds painfully as the strange warmth inside him grows stronger with each ragged breath.
The silence shatters with a faint, familiar voice. "Leor…"
Leor's eyes fly open, and he whips around. "Grandpa!"
He scrambles over, nearly collapsing as he reaches his grandpa lying in a pool of blood, each breath shallow and ragged.
"No… no, no, no!" Leor cries out, dropping to his knees beside him.
His grandpa's trembling hand lifts weakly, brushing against Leor's cheek. His eyes, full of pride and deep sorrow, meet Leor's. "Leor… listen to me…"
"Grandpa, don't speak! I'll get help—someone will come!" Leor pleads, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face.
His grandpa slowly shakes his head, wincing with the effort. "No… it's too late for me. You… you have to live… You're stronger than you know, my boy. So much stronger…"
Leor grips his grandpa's hand desperately, his sobs shaking his whole body. "I can't do this without you!"
"You can," his grandpa whispers, his voice barely holding on. "You have a spark… something special… Don't waste it… Protect those you love… Be strong… live…"
With a final, shuddering breath, his grandpa's hand slips from Leor's grasp, falling limp.
"Grandpa?" Leor chokes out, his voice breaking. "Grandpa?! Please…!"
There is no answer.
Leor crumples over his grandpa's body, his anguished cries echoing into the night. The faint glow in his chest flickers, dimming, but the pain burning inside him only grows brighter and fiercer than ever.