Alex ran.
He didn't remember choosing to. One moment, he was on his knees, staring at a creature that had torn itself free from stone, and the next, his legs were moving beneath him, feet slamming against the ground with a force that rattled up his spine. His bag tore loose from his shoulder and vanished somewhere behind him, swallowed by smoke and screaming.
The square dissolved into chaos.
People scattered in every direction, colliding, stumbling, clawing at one another as the order they had trusted seconds ago shattered completely. A man fell hard beside Alex, shoulder striking stone with a sound that made Alex flinch. The man didn't get back up.
Heat pressed against Alex's back.
Not warmth. Not fire yet. Just pressure—dense and suffocating, like the air itself had thickened. Every breath scraped his throat raw, smoke coating his tongue with bitterness. His eyes burned. Tears streamed down his face, blinding him, but he didn't stop.
Something crashed behind him.
The impact sent a shock through the ground so violent it lifted his feet. He pitched forward, barely catching himself before slamming face-first into the stone. Pain flared bright along his palms and forearms as skin tore. He gasped, sucking in smoke, coughing hard enough that black spots burst across his vision.
He staggered up again.
The sound of wings rolled overhead.
Each downbeat came with a force that felt less like wind and more like the ground being struck from above. Roof tiles screamed as they ripped loose. Wood splintered. Stone cracked open with sharp, concussive reports.
Alex turned down a side street without thinking.
Fire bloomed ahead of him.
A wall of it surged across the street in a blinding rush of orange and white, heat slamming into him so hard it drove him backward. He cried out and threw an arm up, skin prickling instantly as if stung by a thousand needles.
He veered away, heart hammering painfully, lungs burning as he sucked in air that barely sustained him.
This way—no—
The street collapsed.
A building caved inward with a thunderous crack, stone and timber folding into itself. Dust and debris blasted outward, pelting Alex hard enough to knock him sideways. He hit the ground shoulder-first, pain blooming deep and nauseating.
He rolled, coughing, vision spinning.
Ash fell like snow.
It stuck to his sweat-damp skin, clung to his lashes, coated his clothes until everything felt heavier, slower. The world blurred into shifting shapes—firelight, shadows, bodies moving and disappearing too fast to track.
Alex crawled.
His knees scraped raw against broken stone. His hands shook violently as he pulled himself forward, every movement requiring more effort than the last. His head pounded, a deep, pulsing ache that made it hard to focus.
A scream cut off nearby.
He flinched and squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them open again.
Get up.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying. The air roared as fire passed overhead, close enough that his hair singed and the heat washed over him in a brutal wave. Stone along the wall beside him glowed faintly red.
The village no longer made sense.
Streets twisted where they shouldn't. Familiar paths ended abruptly in rubble or flame. Buildings he had passed earlier were gone—flattened, burning, or torn open like they had been peeled apart by something curious and cruel.
Another roar split the air.
Alex dropped instinctively, throwing himself behind a half-collapsed wall as fire screamed overhead. The blast sucked the air from his lungs. His ears rang painfully, sound collapsing into a dull, distant thrum.
Debris rained down.
Something struck his back, hard enough to drive him into the ground. He cried out, pain exploding across his spine and shoulders. For a moment, he couldn't move. His limbs felt disconnected, distant, as if his body had decided it was finished.
He lay there, chest heaving, vision tunneling.
The smell was unbearable now—burning wood, burning oil, burning flesh. It layered over everything, thick enough to choke on.
This isn't real. This can't be real.
But the ground kept shaking.
Alex dragged himself forward again, fingers slipping on ash and blood. His palms burned where the skin had split open. His arms trembled violently, threatening to give out with every movement.
He reached the shadow of another fallen wall and collapsed against it, gasping. His chest felt too tight, each breath shallow and insufficient. His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
The roar came again.
Closer.
The sound vibrated through him until it felt like his bones were shaking apart. Heat surged. Light flared even through his closed eyes, searing itself into his vision.
Alex curled inward, pressing his forehead against the stone.
Please.
The word never left his throat.
Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, thick and heavy. His thoughts scattered, slipping through his grasp like smoke. His head throbbed in time with his pulse, each beat slower, heavier than the last.
He couldn't feel his hands anymore.
The world tilted.
Alex tried to inhale and couldn't draw enough air. His chest hitched painfully. Panic surged, then dulled, replaced by a strange, distant calm.
The sounds of the village blurred together—screams fading into noise, noise into vibration, vibration into nothing at all.
The last thing he saw was the sky, choked with smoke and painted orange by flame, before it folded inward and vanished.
When the darkness took him, it was not gentle.
It was sudden.
And behind his closed eyes, the village burned.