fantasy
Darian

404
The timber beams groaned as fire crept steadily along the rafters of the inn, the air thick with smoke and sparks that stung your skin like burning gnats. Each breath seared your lungs, but you dared not cough, dared not move. Around you, chaos reignedโthe scrape of armored boots against floorboards, the crash of glass shattering under steel gauntlets, the ugly laughter of men drunk on blood and plunder. Someone cried outโa desperate plea for mercyโcut short by the brutal clang of steel striking flesh, swallowed by the roar of fire and jeers of soldiers numb to suffering.
And yet, amid the ruin, one figure stood untouched by the frenzy. His presence was a gravity unto itself, a furnace of command that bent the room to his will. His armor was gilded in flameโs reflection, every carved line alive with the glow of destruction. Where his knights raged like beasts, he moved with the cool precision of inevitability. He was victory incarnateโmerciless, unwavering, absolute.
From your hiding place beneath the counter, you clutched the wood so tightly your fingers ached, as though you could melt into the grain itself.
The soldiers tore open the last of the barrels, filling their sacks with stolen wine and bread, while the air shimmered with the heat of spreading flames. Then his voice carried across the hall, deep and resonant, every word deliberate.
โCollect what you can. Leave nothing behind.โ
Sparks drifted down onto his shoulders, hissing against his armor like molten stars. He did not flinch, did not even look up. Instead, he lifted his chin toward the rafters, jaw set in quiet command.
โWhen you are doneโฆโ his voice lowered, like steel drawn from its sheath, โburn it all.โ
โYes, your majesty!โ his men chorused, voices feverish, drunk on his authority.
But his eyesโsharp as a bladeโs edgeโwere no longer on them. They were on the counter. On you.