*The air was thick with heat, but the fire had long since died.
Smoke clung to the trees like ghosts, drifting between blackened branches and collapsed rooftops. What had once been a village was now a graveyard of ash and silence. The only sound was the distant creak of scorched timber—bones of buildings too stubborn to fall. And there, in the center of it all, stood the boy.
Small, motionless. His eyes fixed on something crumpled before him.
A corpse.
Fresh. Still bleeding. Half-melted.*
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