Michael sprinted through the winding streets, his lungs burning as the acrid scent of smoke filled the air. His mind raced faster than his feet, the image of the billowing fire in the distance seared into his thoughts.
His house. His father.
The dread tightened around his chest with every step.
'Dad... Please be okay. Please...'
The cobblestones blurred beneath him as he tore through the city, ignoring the distant shouts of townsfolk. The flames in the distance grew larger, painting the sky with a sinister red glow. His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs screaming for respite, but he didn't slow down.
He couldn't.
Not now.
When he reached the street leading to his house, he stumbled to a halt. The scene before him drained the color from his face; his lips parting as the ash and flames glistened in the reflection of his eyes.
The house he had grown up in, the one he shared with his father, was engulfed in a raging inferno. The roof had already caved in, and the walls crumbled under the relentless assault of the flames, devouring everything in their path.
A crowd had gathered, their faces pale with shock and horror. Some shouted frantically for water, others cried out in desperation, their voices barely rising above the roar of the fire.
"WHERE ARE THE WATER MAGES!? WE NEED PRIEST HEALERS TOO!" someone yelled, their voice straining with urgency.
"DID ANYONE SEE MICHAEL OR MR. EVENBROWN?!" another voice called out, echoing the mounting panic of the neighbors.
"Was it an attack?!" someone else speculated, fear lacing their words.
The cacophony of the crowd blurred into a distant hum as Michael stumbled forward, his gaze locked on the wreckage that had once been his home.
"MICHAEL! YOU'RE ALIVE!" a neighbor cried out, pointing him out to the others. The nervous mob collectively exhaled in relief.
"Thank the Goddess you weren't inside!"
But Michael didn't acknowledge them.
His legs moved on their own, carrying him through the heat and smoke, closer and closer—until his gaze landed on the collapsed figure near the edge of the rubble.
His father.
"I... Is that... Mr. Evenbrown?!" someone whispered in disbelief, their voice trembling as they pointed toward the prone figure in the wreckage.
The crowd fell into a stunned silence, their eyes widening as the realization sank in. But Michael barely registered their murmurs. His focus remained on the motionless form lying amidst the ashes.
Michael's heart dropped to his stomach.
"Dad!!!" he cried out; his voice cracking as he rushed to the man's side.
The older man was barely recognizable. His clothes were singed and torn, his face blackened with soot. Half of his body was covered in burns, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and distant.
"You..." his father rasped, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames.
Michael dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he lifted his father gently, his fingers brushing against the soot-streaked fabric of the man's tunic.
"I—I'm here," he whispered, his voice breaking as tears welled in his eyes. "You're going to be okay. The healers will come. We'll fix this. Just... stay with me. Please... just stay with me."
YOU ARE READING
Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord
FantasyVan and his friend Magus had reincarnated in another world with magic. Tasked to kill the demon lord, they set forth. Van was granted very rough skills that made life for him in that world a living hell, yet he muscled through. Magus however, was be...
