𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬: 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

Lela watched in horror, her breath caught in her throat. The village of Natura—once a haven of laughter, golden sunrises, and the scent of pine on the breeze—now lay in ruin. The earth itself seemed to mourn. Trees that had stood tall for centuries were now shattered like broken bones, their limbs twisted grotesquely across the ground. Homes that had once held warmth and stories were reduced to smoldering skeletons. Flames danced hungrily, devouring what little remained, casting a sinister glow over the ruin.

Smoke curled into the sky like dark ribbons of grief. It stung Lela's eyes, but she couldn't look away. Her fingers trembled at her sides, fists clenched uselessly. The cries of villagers—desperate, guttural—echoed like a funeral dirge through the choking haze.

They moved slowly, as if their bodies couldn't keep up with the horror unfolding around them. Silence reigned among the group—Lela, Max, Ethan, and Ophelia—because there were no words big enough for what they were seeing. People rushed past them in waves. Some held bags packed in frantic haste. Others held children, or carried limp bodies too still to be sleeping.

It was like walking through a dream—no, a nightmare. One that didn't end when they blinked.

A figure emerged suddenly from the smoke, running straight toward them with wide, terrified eyes. Her face was smeared with ash, a gash bleeding from her forehead, but it was the raw panic in her expression that hit hardest.

Ophelia stepped forward without hesitation, placing herself between the girl and the wreckage behind her. Her presence was like a wall—strong, calm, unshaken—and when she reached out a hand, the girl all but collapsed into her arms, sobbing.

"What happened here?" Lela's voice cracked as she finally found the strength to speak.

"It was... it was an attack," the girl stammered. "They came through the forest—an army. They didn't ask questions. They didn't give warnings. They just... burned it all."

Lela felt her knees wobble. Max caught her arm to steady her, but even his touch felt distant. "An army?" she whispered. "Whose?"

"The King's," the girl said bitterly. "He's gone mad. He thinks Natura's hiding something from him. Magic, maybe. Secrets. Doesn't matter anymore. He's destroying everything."

That word hung in the air—mad. The King, the protector of the realm, had turned into its destroyer.

A shriek cut through the smoke, and the girl jerked her head over her shoulder. "He's coming. You have to go. Now!"

From the rising smoke and rubble, figures emerged—dark armor glinting red in the firelight, swords drawn, bows already nocked. Lela's breath caught as she spotted the man leading them. His expression was cold. Unfeeling. A mask of authority and wrath. Behind him, his soldiers spread out like a tide of death.

"We can't just leave these people behind," Lela said suddenly, her voice clear for the first time.

Max turned toward her, eyes wide. "Lela, we don't have weapons. We don't have magic. We're not soldiers."

"We have Ophelia," Lela snapped, fire lighting her voice to match the flames around them. "That is our weapon."

All eyes turned to Ophelia. Her fists clenched, her jaw tight. For a moment, hesitation flickered in her gaze. Then she nodded.

A sudden gale burst outward from her palms. The wind, sharp and strong, pushed the group forward with unnatural speed, lifting leaves and soot into a frenzied swirl behind them. It was as if the forest itself had risen to help them flee.

But escape didn't bring peace.

They saw things they would never forget—bodies lying broken in doorways, mothers shielding children, villagers dragged from their homes and cut down where they stood. Lela wanted to scream, to turn around and fight, to do something. But all she could do was run, heart pounding with grief and fury.