Ash swirled through the broken canopy, blotting out the last light of day. Fire crackled across roots and branches, but this was no ordinary blaze — the flames clung unnaturally, hissing purple beneath the red. Trees that had stood for centuries collapsed into dust within moments. Leaves disintegrated midair, curling into black snow before they touched the ground.
Kael stumbled forward, coughing, the back of his throat raw. The sanctuary — their supposed refuge — was collapsing into a pit of ruin. The Green Wall had been unbreachable. Verdant roots had never failed. Until now.
Bram's voice broke through the smoke.
"Gone. It's all gone."
Lyra clutched his arm. "Keep moving, don't stop! If you stop, you'll choke!"
Dagan pulled Amara to her feet, snapping at the others.
"Run now, we argue later!"
But even in the blur of ash and screams, the loss was seared into them: home was nothing but cinders now.
If only they would stop blaming each other…
---
Kael bent over, spitting black soot into the dirt. His lungs burned. Around him, the others staggered out of the inferno, hacking, eyes red.
"Verdant guards—" Bram wheezed. "Where are the guards?"
Dagan scanned the smoking battlefield. "Dead."
Lyra blinked hard. "They… they don't die. They never—"
"They're dead," Dagan said flatly. His clothes were scorched, his arm bleeding where a branch had fallen. "All of them."
Behind them, survivors crawled from the ash, their once-proud faces smeared with grime and fear. Some sobbed openly. Others muttered. The mighty protectors who had never fallen had been slaughtered in moments.
Amara clutched Kael's sleeve. "They're looking at us."
And indeed, as the smoke thinned, eyes turned toward the children — eyes that searched for someone to blame.
---
"They always won…" a woman muttered, clutching the body of her husband. "We always won. What went wrong?"
A man with blood running down his cheek lurched forward, his voice breaking.
"It wasn't fire. It wasn't real fire! I saw it! It chewed straight through fresh roots — roots soaked with Verdant water! Normal flame can't do that. Can't!"
"Sit down, you're raving," another whispered.
But the man pressed on, shaking, eyes wide.
"No, listen! The flames… they carried a mist. A purple mist, like poison. And when it touched flesh—" His hand clawed at his chest. "It burned the soul. Not the skin. The soul."
The murmurs died. Silence fell heavy.
---
It was Amara who broke it.
"I… I saw it. Joss was cloaked in it."
The air snapped taut. Heads turned.
She swallowed. "He vanished in it. Even though I was holding his hand, he disappeared from my sight. That mist—" she said pointing at Joss— "it was around him."
Dozens of eyes locked on Joss.
"Explain yourself."
"What did you see in there?"
"Tell us!"
Joss staggered back a step, face pale. He forced a rough laugh.
"Nothing! I saw what everyone else saw — fire, smoke, screams. That's all."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "That's a lie."
Joss clenched his fists. I can't tell them. I won't. Because he had heard it, in the very heart of that purple veil — a whisper that had slid into his bones.
" My son. "
But aloud he only said, voice sharp:
"Don't turn on me just because you're afraid!"
---
The whisper of suspicion grew into snarls.
"We should never have let them in."
"They dragged this curse here."
"Children of pyrrathis— they brought doom with them."
Dagan raised his voice. "Shut your mouths. You think fire like that cares about whose flesh it burns? You think we weren't hunted too?"
"Open your eyes, fool!" a woman spat. "Wherever Pyrrathis walks, death follows!"
The unity the fire had burned away, left only raw edges. Fear turned inward, and the survivors clawed for someone to blame.
---
By dusk, decision had hardened in the Verdant survivors' faces. The last roots of their homeland smoldered behind them.
A surviving guard captain, soot streaked across his brow, spoke with finality.
"We cannot carry your curse any longer. Go your own way."
Lyra's lips parted. "What? You can't—"
"You heard me. Whatever shadow stalks you, it burns us as well. We will not die for you."
"You'd cast out children?" Kael demanded.
"Better children than all of us."
The survivors seized sticks, forming a grim escort. The children were herded forward until the last remnants of green gave way. Before them stretched a barren expanse — cracked earth, dust, and a horizon without promise.
At the border, the Verdant turned their backs. Without a word, they vanished into the smoke.
Kael whispered, voice breaking:
"They left us."
---
Silence pressed heavy.
Dagan kicked at the dirt, bitter.
"So much for family. So much for 'acceptance.' The truth is simple: to them, we were nothing but a burden."
Bram lowered his head. "Then where do we go?"
Amara rubbed her arms, shivering though the air was still hot from the fire. "We don't even have water. We'll die out here."
Kael clenched his fists. "No. We won't. We can't. We're all that's left."
But inside, despair clawed at them. Home was gone. Allies were gone. They were utterly alone.
---
Kael broke the silence.
"We must find the truth. Why did they attack us? What that mist was. Or we're doomed!"
Dagan scoffed, sharply. "Spare me. Truth won't fill your belly or stop your throat from burning. Survival is all that matters."
Lyra stepped in. "He's right about one thing — without answers, it'll happen again."
Amara whispered: "What if it already has?"
The group turned on each other in sharp bursts.
Kael: "We need unity!"
Dagan: "We need food, not fairy tales!"
Bram: "Stop it, both of you!"
Lyra: "If we keep fighting, the desert will finish us before the enemy does."
But the threads of unity were unraveling fast, each heart pulling in its own direction.
---
The desert wind carried ash across their faces as they stood at the edge of nowhere.
Narration:
Each of them carried secrets. Each of them carried shadows. And now, with no walls left to shelter them, those secrets would burn in the open.
Kael's grief.
Dagan's rage.
Lyra's fear.
Amara's visions.
Bram's silence.
And Joss's poisoned thoughts.
The darkest chambers of their hearts would be revealed. And none of them would escape being seen for who they truly were.