"Kaan.." Jasper shakes me on my shoulders as I watch the ashes burn and scatter from the estate that has turned into bright red.
The inferno red mixed with the rising sun's angry orange.
It's been hours and I felt my heart burn with the estate.
By morning nothing remained of the house Mabuz's grand estate but charred ruins and smoldering ash.
The once magnificent hall, the tapestries, the legacy gone swallowed by the flames.
I sat in the dirt, my legs numb, my hands shaking despite the morning chill. The air carried the worst stench of smoke and my throat was raw from shouting and from breathing in the destruction.
Armando was gone.
It didn't feel real.
It should have been me in there.
It should have been me instead of him.
When I didn't reply, Jasper let go of me and just stood quietly beside me. Watching me with an unreadable expression of him.
Millard was speaking to the knights, organizing what little we had left. his voice was chipped and steady.
Everyone moved in hustle and in a haze. They hurry to settle things and put off the fire.
There were broken murmurers, some tending to wounded, others simply staring at the ruins as if expecting Armando to walk out of them at any moment.
But he wouldn't.
He never would again.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
'My ice powers were useless....'
The flames had been too strong, too fast.
'It is abnormal for it to be like that...'
'Unless magic was involved.'
If I had been stronger, if I had more control over my mana, maybe I could have done something.
Maybe I could have saved him.
My eyes grew focused, pushing the haze back.
A gust of wind sends a fresh wave of ash swirling through the air. My eyes stung. It hurts but not as bad as my heart.
"Kaan." Jasper's voice broke the silence, finally thinking that I had enough space to think.
"Say something," he pressed, stepping closer. "You've been sitting here for hours."
I swallowed, my voice hoarse. "What's there to say?"
Jasper exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "We need to move. This place isn't safe. Whoever did this—"
"Don't." My voice came out sharper than I intended. My head snapped toward him, anger flaring hot in my chest. "Don't talk about moving on. Not yet."
'I need to get myself together and the only way I would find any relief would be after this fire is gone.'
His golden eyes flickered with something I couldn't place. Pity? Frustration? Understanding? Maybe all of them at once. But he didn't argue.
He rarely does.
Millard approached then, his usually neat attire singed and stained. "Kaan." His tone was firm but not unkind. "We need to decide our next move."
This was the first time he had called me Kaan instead of young master or my lord. But none of us were in a stable state to care about that.
My next move. Because I was the Duke now. Because my father had left me with nothing but his title and his final words.
Live. Protect them. Lead.
I took a shaky breath, pushing myself up despite the exhaustion weighing down my limbs. My body protested, but I forced myself to stand.
The people around me—my people—watched, waiting. They had lost their leader, their home. They were looking at me now.
For the first time since the fire began, I forced myself to push the grief aside.
"We regroup, Millard, bring me all the magic stones we have left." I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't question it. He only nodded before turning to issue orders.
I turned to Jasper next. "Get everyone away from the ruins. I need space."
Jasper's eyes narrowed. "Kaan—"
"Just do it."
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but after a moment, he relented, moving to herd the survivors to a safer distance.
When the stones were brought to me, I inhaled deeply, feeling the latent power within them. I stretched out my hands, ice gathering at my fingertips. The air grew colder, the remnants of the fire crackling in defiance.
I would not let my father's death be reduced to ashes. I would bury the embers, smother the flames.
Focusing everything I had, I called forth the cold.
The fire would die by my hands.
And so would those who lit it.
My hair turned full white and when I opened my eyes for a second to analyze the fire they were crystal blue.
This was the first time I made a full transformation.
'The First Dragon growth period.' I think as I get comfortable with the powers still feeling a pinch of pain in my body.
The air grew colder, the remnants of the fire crackling in defiance. The heat of destruction still lingered, fighting against me, but I wouldn't let it win.
Closing my eyes, I focused all my energy, willing the ice to surge forth. Frost spread across the scorched ground, creeping over the last remaining embers, suffocating the fire that had stolen my father, my home, my past. The chill deepened, the air crystallizing as snowflakes drifted down, unnatural in the warm dawn light. I poured everything into it—my grief, my fury, my failure—until the flames were gone.
The fire had taken everything. I wouldn't let it take more.
My legs trembled, and the moment the last ember died, I collapsed to my knees. My breath came in ragged gasps, my vision swimming. A hand gripped my shoulder, steadying me. Jasper.
"You're going to burn yourself out," he murmured, his voice quiet, but not unkind. "That's enough."
It wasn't. It would never be enough. But I had no more strength left to fight.
Millard returned, kneeling beside me. "We need to leave. We don't know if this was an accident or an attack, but we can't stay here."
I knew he was right. But as I looked at the ruins of what was once my home, my heart clenched with something dark and cold.
The fire was gone. But the embers of my vengeance had only just begun to smolder.
Whoever did this—whoever had taken my father from me—I would find them.
And I would make them burn.