The fire raged like an inferno.
From afar, Valthorn City looked like it was being consumed by the wrath of a descending fire dragon—its wings of flame casting a crimson shadow across the land, as if heralding the end of days.
But the truth on the ground was far more grounded. More harrowing.
Upon the city walls, soldiers and civilians alike stood frozen, their faces illuminated by the flickering blaze, the dying light painting their eyes in hues of gold and orange. The heat licked their skin with punishing intensity—some winced and turned their heads slightly to shield their faces. Yet none dared to look away completely.
Because he didn't.
Damien stood dangerously close to the roaring flame, almost swallowed by its heat. The blaze bathed his body in a molten hue, his outline glowing faintly like tempered steel pulled from a forge. The wind carried the scent of scorched earth and burning flesh, yet Damien remained unmoved—his posture unshaken, his expression void of emotion.
