Morning arrived quietly.
Too quietly.
Alexander felt it the moment he stepped outside. The air was heavy. The ash-colored ground lay untouched. No voices echoed between houses.
No laughter. No arguments.
Just silence.
He tightened his grip on the water container and glanced back.
His mother stood in the doorway.
She hadn't moved since he stepped out.
"Alexander," she called.
Her voice was calm—but something was wrong.
"I'm here," he replied.
She looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to memorize his face. The look made his chest feel tight.
"Don't wander today," she said.
Alexander frowned. "I never do."
"I know." She paused. "Today… just listen to me."
He wanted to ask why.
He didn't.
Some warnings didn't come with reasons.
They came with weight.
The explosion shattered everything.
The ground shook violently. Alexander was thrown forward as a thunderous roar ripped through the settlement. Heat slammed into him. Ash and debris filled the air.
Then came the screams.
Real screams.
"Mom—?!"
He turned as dark shapes dropped through the smoke. They landed silently. Their bodies were twisted, humanoid—but wrong.
They didn't roar.
They didn't hesitate.
They simply moved.
His mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Behind me."
Her voice was sharp. Commanding.
"What are those?" Alexander asked.
She didn't answer.
Fear said enough.
A sword lay near his feet, half-buried in ash.
Old. Scarred. Heavy.
He stared at it.
I've never held a weapon.
Still, his hand closed around the hilt.
And something inside him stirred.
I know what this is for.
He stepped in front of his mother.
"I won't let them touch you."
The words felt too big. Too final.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to be brave," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "But I'm still here."
One of the creatures lunged.
Alexander swung.
The sword struck. A dull clang echoed.
The creature staggered—but didn't fall.
Trying isn't winning.
Something moved behind him.
A wet, heavy sound.
Then silence.
"No…"
He turned.
Too late.
His mother collapsed into his arms. Blood spread across the ash beneath her.
"I was right here," he whispered. "I was—"
She pressed a trembling hand to his wrist.
"Listen to me."
Her breathing was weak.
"Please," he begged. "Just stay."
She smiled faintly.
"Whatever happens," she whispered, "don't hate yourself."
Her hand slipped.
Alexander noticed the symbol beneath her skin—cracked, ancient, wrong.
"What is this…?"
No answer.
The creatures vanished into the smoke.
Alexander knelt in the ruins, holding her body as the world burned.
The sword lay beside him.
Stained. Useless.
He screamed.
Not in rage.
Not in defiance.
But in understanding.
This was not the day a hero was born.
This was the day Ashkara lost another forgotten soul.