Chapter Text
Smoke curled into the sky, thick as the dark clouds overhead. The stench of blood and burning wood filled the air. Tari, a young merchant’s son, stumbled over the rubble of his family’s caravan. He had watched helplessly as bandits tore through the wagons, their laughter cruel, their blades stained with the lives of those who couldn’t escape.
Now, Tari was the last one left. He pressed his back against a fallen cart, hands clamped over his mouth to silence his trembling breaths. The bandits had taken what they wanted, but some still lingered, scavenging. If they found him… A scream rang out—a woman’s. One of the villagers who had fled into the trees. Tari squeezed his eyes shut. There was no one left to help. No soldiers, no knights. The strong ruled over the weak here. Then, the wind shifted. A shadow moved beyond the flames. Tari opened his eyes. At first, he thought it was a trick of the firelight—until he saw him.
A figure strode onto the battlefield, the flames casting his silhouette in flickering gold. He wasn’t clad in shining armor, nor did he carry a noble crest. He wore a traveler’s cloak, dusted with the dirt of the road, yet there was a presence about him—calm, assured, unshaken by the carnage before him. Then the wind changed again, and Tari saw his eyes.
They were golden, burning, as if fire itself lived within them. The boy—no, the warrior—held a long staff, its metal glinting in the firelight. His black ears twitched as he took in the scene. His tail flicked once.
The bandits had seen him now. Laughter echoed from the men. “What’s this? Another fool come to die?” Tari wanted to warn him—there were too many!—but before he could speak, the stranger moved. Fast. In one smooth motion, his staff shifted, metal expanding, reshaping into a halberd, its crescent blade catching the light. The first bandit lunged, but the boy sidestepped with ease, bringing the weapon down in a sweeping arc. A spray of dirt and embers flew as the bandit crumpled. Another came at him with a sword—parried. The boy spun, the butt of his weapon slamming into the man’s gut. A third tried to strike from behind—too slow. The halberd’s blade ignited, and with a single upward slash, the man was sent sprawling. Tari watched, stunned. This wasn’t a battle. This was a dance—one where only the boy knew the steps.
The last bandit standing trembled, his sword shaking in his grip. “Monster,” he whispered. He turned to flee. The boy didn’t chase him. He didn’t need to. He simply stood amidst the fallen, his weapon still glowing with embers, and the remaining bandits ran. Silence fell. The fires crackled. Tari’s breath hitched when golden eyes turned to him. He should have been afraid. This warrior—this legend—had just taken down a group of men alone. But there was no malice in his gaze. No arrogance. Just… warmth.
The weapon shifted back to a simple staff. The boy offered a hand. “You okay?”
Tari could only stare. Was this truly just a boy? Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for the offered hand. The warmth of his palm was real. “You—” Tari swallowed. “You saved me.” The boy scratched his cheek. “Guess I did.” His voice was soft, unassuming, as if what he had just done was nothing at all.
Tari didn’t know this stranger’s name. But he knew one thing—this was a story he would tell for the rest of his life.
The story of the boy with the burning eyes.