Max opened his eyes.
The sky was dark. Smoke floated above the trees. The ground was wet and cold under his body. Everything hurt—his arms, his legs, even his chest when he breathed.
He didn't know how long he had been lying there. Minutes? Hours?
All he knew was that he was still alive.
He sat up slowly. His hands were shaking. His face was dirty and wet with blood. All around him were broken trees, fire, and dead bodies. Soldiers. Friends. Monsters.
Twelve people had come here with him. Only Max was left.
He remembered how it started.
Pal had told them the ruins were safe. "Just some old stones," Pal had said. "No danger at all."
But Pal had lied.
The monsters came from the ground. Huge, dark things with long arms and glowing eyes. Their skin looked like black oil. Their teeth were like knives. Magic didn't work on them. Swords broke when they touched them. Fire didn't stop them.
Max saw his friends die. Marell was taken first. No scream, no sound. Just gone. Kaelen's chest was crushed. Jorin tried to run, but something grabbed him and dragged him into the dark.
Pal didn't help.
He just stood there and watched.
Max didn't remember much after that. Just screaming, running, and falling.
Now, here he was. Alive. Alone.
He looked at his hand. It was burned and bloody. His sword was broken beside him. Just the handle and a sharp piece of the blade.
Then he heard a noise.
Max turned his head fast.
A body lay nearby. It was Kaelen. His eyes were open, but he wasn't breathing. Max knew he was dead.
But something moved. Inside him. Under his skin.
Max felt sick.
He backed away slowly, dragging his broken sword.
Then he felt something strange.
It was like a warm pull deep in his chest. It didn't feel good. It felt… scary. Like something had woken up inside him.
He held his chest and gasped. His heart beat faster.
And then… he felt it.
A whisper.
Not words. Not a voice.
Just a feeling.
Get up.
Max didn't understand the feeling, but it was strong. Like something inside him was calling out. Telling him to move. Telling him not to stay here.
He stood up slowly. His legs were weak. His body felt heavy, like he was wearing rocks. But he didn't fall. He just looked around.
The forest was quiet now. Too quiet.
No birds. No wind. No life.
Only smoke. Ash. And death.
He took one step, then another. He had to leave this place. He didn't know where to go, but anywhere was better than here.
He passed by Marell's body. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't there anymore. Max felt a tight pain in his chest. She used to laugh so much. She used to say they were going to be heroes.
Now she was cold and still.
Max kept walking.
Every step hurt. His foot was bleeding. His ribs ached. But something pushed him forward.
The whisper came again.
Survive.
He reached the edge of the ruined clearing. There, the ground was torn open like a wound. Black smoke rose from it. It looked deep—too deep to see the bottom. This was where the monsters came from.
Max stared into it. His hands shook again.
Then he saw something.
A figure standing on the other side of the hole.
Pal.
His long black coat was still clean. His hair didn't have a speck of ash on it. He looked the same as he always did. Calm. Quiet. Smiling.
"Hello, Max," Pal said.
Max didn't answer. His mouth felt dry.
"You made it," Pal said. "Interesting."
Max took a step back. His heart beat faster.
"Why?" Max asked. His voice was weak. "Why did you do this?"
Pal tilted his head. "Because I had to. This is the beginning. You'll understand soon."
Max gripped the broken sword tighter.
"You killed them."
Pal nodded. "Yes. And you're going to thank me for it one day."
Max couldn't move. His body froze. His mind screamed, but his legs wouldn't run.
Pal smiled wider. "I didn't kill you, Max. That means something. You'll see."
Then—he was gone.
No sound. No light. Just gone.
Max fell to his knees. He felt cold. Empty.
But the whisper returned.
Not from outside.
From inside him.
You're not done. Not yet.
And with it, came a strange warmth in his chest. Faint. Like a tiny fire. Just enough to keep him breathing.
Max sat on the cold ground for a long time. He didn't cry. He didn't speak. He just sat there, staring at the spot where Pal had stood.
The whisper was quiet now, but the warmth in his chest didn't go away. It felt like a small light inside him. Weak, but alive.
And somehow… growing.
He didn't understand it. He didn't ask for it. But it was there.
Was it magic?
No. It didn't feel like the magic he knew.
It felt older. Wilder. Like something that had been sleeping for a long time, and had finally opened its eyes.
Max looked down at his hand. The skin had stopped bleeding. Some of the pain was fading. That didn't make sense. He should still be half-dead.
But the fire in his chest was spreading. Slowly. Carefully. Like it didn't want to scare him.
He stood again. This time, he didn't shake.
A soft wind blew through the trees. The smoke was fading. The forest was quiet, but not dead. Somewhere far away, a bird cried out. The world was still turning.
Max looked at the broken sword in his hand. It wasn't much, but it was something. He tied it to his belt and took a deep breath.
"I'm not going to die here," he whispered.
He turned and walked away from the ruins. Step by step. Not fast. Not strong. But steady.
As he walked, he remembered each face. Jorin, who always made bad jokes. Marell, who believed in him. Kaelen, who taught him how to shoot.
He would not forget them.
And he would not forgive Pal.
Not ever.
He didn't know what Pal had become. A monster? A god? Something worse?
Bu
t Max knew one thing.
He would find him again.
He would get stronger.
He would survive.
And next time… he would be ready.
The fire inside him burned a little brighter.