The Night Everything Burned

The lawless city was in chaos. Screams, the clash of steel, and the scent of blood filled the air. The fragile balance between the city's factions had shattered. Someone had set fire to Ronan's hideout, and now every gang was fighting for control.

Kaelion and the girl had no place to run.

A mob of armed men surged through the streets, cutting down anyone in their way. Fires spread wildly, turning the once-dark alleys into corridors of flickering red and black. The girl and Kaelion ran, dodging through the narrow streets, trying to find a way out. But the enemy was everywhere.

"We're trapped," the girl said, her voice eerily calm. She glanced around, calculating. "There's only one way out. Through the chaos."

Kaelion clenched his fists. He had gotten stronger, trained by Ronan—but not enough. Not yet.

Then, from the rooftops, a rain of arrows fell.

"MOVE!" Kaelion shoved the girl aside as an arrow sliced past his cheek. More men came, their swords glinting in the firelight.

The girl grabbed his wrist. "Listen to me, prince. We can't fight them all. But I can buy you time."

Kaelion froze. "No. We fight together."

She shook her head. "You have to live. You have something greater ahead of you. Trust me."

And then—she ran toward the enemy.

Kaelion shouted, reaching for her, but it was too late. She disappeared into the flames, cutting through their ranks like a ghost in the fire.

Then, the building behind her collapsed in an explosion of sparks and smoke.

Kaelion's heart stopped.

"No…"

He wanted to run in, to find her, but Ronan's men grabbed him, dragging him away.

"She's gone, boy! Move!" Ronan's voice was harsh, but his grip was firm. "You want to throw your life away? Then you're as weak as they say you are."

Kaelion struggled. The fire swallowed the last of the street, the place where she had stood.

She was gone.

And Kaelion had never felt so powerless.

The flames had long since died, but the smell of burnt flesh and blood still clung to Kaelion's skin. He sat motionless in the dimly lit hideout, staring into the firepit, watching embers crackle and fade.

She was gone.

He couldn't save her.

Ronan, standing nearby, studied him with a cold gaze before throwing a dagger at Kaelion's feet.

"Pick it up."

Kaelion didn't move.

Ronan sighed, crouching before him. "You're pathetic." His voice was quiet, but razor-sharp. "You think sitting there will bring her back? You think your grief means anything in this world?"

Kaelion's hands trembled. Rage, sorrow, regret—they ate at his insides like fire.

Ronan grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward. "Do you want to die?"

Kaelion's nails dug into his palms. Did he?

No.

He wanted to kill.

He wanted power.

He wanted to become someone strong enough that no one could ever take from him again.

Ronan's grip tightened. "Then prove it."

Kaelion exhaled sharply and reached for the dagger. It felt heavier than before—as if it carried the weight of the life he failed to protect.

He wouldn't fail again.

The next few months were hell.

Ronan trained Kaelion like an animal, breaking him down physically, mentally, and emotionally. He forced him to fight men twice his size, left him to starve in the cold, and nearly drowned him during survival training.

At first, Kaelion barely survived. But every failure hardened him.

His hands, once soft and princely, became calloused and scarred.

His body adapted—his strikes became sharper, his movements more precise.

And most importantly, his mind changed.

The weak die. The strong survive.

But Kaelion didn't just want to survive. He wanted to rule.

He spent his nights studying tactics, strategy, and the underground economy. Every lesson the girl had taught him, every bit of knowledge she had left behind—he absorbed it.

And as his blade grew sharper, so did his mind.

Until one night, after winning a brutal underground fight, he stood before Ronan, breathing heavily, blood dripping down his temple.

Ronan smirked. "Well, boy?"

Kaelion lifted his sword, pointing it at his mentor.

"I'm ready."

Ronan grinned, stepping forward. "And where will you go?"

Kaelion wiped the blood from his face, his golden eyes burning with resolve.

"Home."