The flames roared violently, devouring the wooden beams and heavy canvas as if the entire camp had been built of dried paper. Cracks, crashes, and the furious hiss of burning fabric filled the air. Thick black smoke rose to the sky, swallowing the soft morning light.
Soldiers ran everywhere, carrying buckets of water, wet cloths, sand, doing anything they could to stop the fire from spreading.
But Demian saw none of it.
Not the soldiers. Not the fire. Not the chaos.
He saw only one thing.
Valerie wasn't there.
"VALERIE!" he roared, the sound so sharp and powerful that several soldiers froze mid-step.
He lunged toward the burning tent, his tent, ready to storm inside even as the roof threatened to collapse. Jean barely managed to pull him back.
"Your Grace! You can't go in! The ceiling is about to fall-!"
Demian shoved Jean aside with a violent jerk, his face flushed with panic and rage. "WHERE IS SHE?!"
