(Serian POV)
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The air was thick with smoke and silence.
Serian's boots sank into blackened soil as his party stood before the ruins of Highmere, once a noble estate known for its brutal treatment of debtors and orphans.
Now, it was a crater of ash and broken chains.
> "This wasn't a raid," Kaeden muttered. "This was a damn purge."
Charred noble banners hung from shattered walls. Piles of burnt ledgers lay scattered near what used to be the slave pens. The chains had melted.
But the strangest part?
No bodies.
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They moved deeper in.
Marielle knelt near a crude altar—a stone marked with a symbol Serian didn't recognize. A twisted flame in the shape of a wing.
> "They called her the Flamemother," she whispered. "They prayed here... and they lived."
Elyn scoffed. "Cultist garbage."
Garen raised his mace. "Desecration. We should cleanse this place."
> "No," Serian said suddenly. His voice surprised even him. "We're here to learn, not to burn."
Kaeden glared. "You're starting to sound soft."
Serian didn't answer. His eyes were on the wall behind the altar.
A sentence, scrawled in blood.
> "The light never came for us. So the flame did."
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They found survivors.
A woman, ragged but unbroken. A man with burns but eyes full of fire. A boy with a wooden sword and a scarf too big for his neck.
> "She saved us," the boy said, pointing to the symbol. "She told us we mattered. She made them stop."
Garen stepped forward. "The Demon Lord is a deceiver—"
> "No," the woman spat. "She's a protector."
Tension flared. Elyn raised her staff. Kaeden's hand went to his sword.
Serian stepped between them. "We're not here to pick a fight."
But in his heart, confusion swirled like smoke.
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That night, as they camped near the ruined manor, Serian stared into the fire.
> What kind of demon frees the weak?
> What kind of hero is sent to kill someone who saves lives?
Elyn sat beside him. "You don't talk like a hero."
> "Maybe I'm not," he replied.
She watched him in silence.
> "You're more interesting than I thought," she said, then walked off.
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Far away, in a dark hall lit by crimson braziers, Malveth stood before a map. Her spies had returned.
> "He saw Highmere," her right hand reported. "He didn't destroy it."
Malveth's lips curled slightly. "He's not ready to kill me."
> "Should we act?" her love interest asked.
She shook her head.
> "Let him doubt. Let him break. And when he stands alone… I'll be there."
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