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The sky above the open sea was vast and Gray, stretching like a sorrowful shroud over the water. Waves lapped gently against the side of a small wooden boat drifting aimlessly across the current. A five-year-old boy sat hunched in the corner of the vessel, clutching a soaked blanket to his chest. His small frame shook with sobs, his face streaked with tears and soot.
Sunny was alone.
Everything was gone.
His hands trembled as he stared down at them—faint burns along his wrists, a few scratches, nothing serious. Not like... not like what happened to the others.
He sniffed, curling in tighter. His parents—his home—his village—all of it had vanished into fire and screams. The wind carried only silence now. No birds. No music. Just the sound of grief.
But just yesterday, everything had been so normal.
One Day Earlier…
The morning in Hearthspire had been crisp and cheerful. The scent of the sea mingled with baking bread and fresh herbs. Seagulls wheeled overhead, their cries echoing across the rooftops. Inside their cozy cottage, the fire crackled gently in the hearth.
Sunny sat at the low table, a thick book propped open in front of him. He was mouthing the words silently, finger trailing beneath each line. The book was old and fraying, filled with fables of warriors, guild mages, and enchanted lands. He didn't care. He loved it. It had belonged to his father once.
Across the room, his mother hummed a soft tune as she stirred a pot over the stove. The Savory aroma of spiced lentils and roasted garlic filled the room. Her eyes glowed with warmth whenever she glanced over at him.
"Read anything interesting, sweetheart?" she asked, wiping her hands on a cloth.
Sunny looked up, face alight with excitement. "There's a story about a swordsman who fought with a lute strapped to his back! He used music to guide his sword."
His mother chuckled. "A perfect hero for a Minstrel tale. Maybe one day you'll be like him."
Sunny smiled shyly, but a little ember of pride lit in his chest.
There was a knock at the door.
His mother frowned—softly, subtly. No one usually visited this early.
She opened the door a crack.
A man stumbled in, clutching his ribs.
It was Gareth—his father's friend. A fellow guardsman.
Blood soaked his shirt. His face was ghost-pale, streaked with sweat and grime.
"R-run," he rasped, voice hoarse. "They're here. They found it."
"What? Found what?" his mother asked, pulling him in.
Gareth collapsed to his knees, shaking. "Dark guild. Five... maybe more. Came through the woods. Looking for something. Burned the guild hall. Killed—"
A deep boom rocked the earth.
The windows shook. A sharp sound cracked the air—like the sky itself tearing. Flames flashed in the distance, bright even in the daylight.
"Sunny!" his mother yelled, rushing to him.
He stood frozen.
His book fell to the floor.
"Out the back," Gareth growled, gripping the wall to pull himself up. "Now."
They ran. His mother grabbed a satchel and pulled Sunny close. The back door burst open. The sky was filled with smoke. Hearthspire was on fire.
People screamed. Buildings collapsed.
Figures darted through the flames—cloaked, masked, laughing as they cast spells and hurled fire from their hands. One of them danced like a puppet, trailing string-like whips made of glowing thread that cut through the air.
"Don't look!" his mother said, turning his face away.
They reached the docks. The small fishing boats bobbed wildly in the churning water.
"Get him on board!" Gareth shouted.
She lifted Sunny and pushed him into the boat.
Suddenly, a sound like a whistling arrow.
FWUMP.
A projectile hit the dock.
Explosion.
Splinters of wood flew. Water splashed. The boat rocked wildly.
Sunny turned.
His mother was on the ground. Her side was torn open, eyes wide in shock. Blood poured from the wound.
"MAMA!"
She tried to reach out, but her arm dropped.
Gareth grabbed the rope and screamed, "GO!"
Magic surged behind them. Another blast cracked through the air. A fireball streaked past, barely missing them. The force knocked Gareth back into the boat. The dock collapsed.
The current caught the boat, dragging it away.
Sunny reached for the shore. For his mother.
But the flames swallowed the dock. Her body was gone in smoke.
He screamed. Again and again.
But there was no answer.
Now
The sea had taken them far from the coast. Gareth lay unconscious, his body limp at the other end of the boat. His chest still rose and fell, barely. His sword lay beside him, bloodied and cracked.
Sunny sat alone.
His heart was hollow.
He clutched his blanket.
"Mama… Papa… I'm sorry," he whispered.
The waves rocked him gently, like a lullaby that only made him cry harder.
Everything was gone.
His village.
His home.
His parents.
Burned by people he didn't even understand.
Dark guilds weren't just stories anymore. They weren't names in the wind. They were monsters.
He closed his eyes and saw the fire again. Saw his mother's blood. Heard the screams. Smelled the smoke.
He cried until he had no more tears.
Then he sat in silence, drifting on the tide, clutching the last of a life that had ended in a single day.