Some children are born. Some are found. Al'Zaroth was pulled from the ash of a burned village wearing a steel apple leaf and a smile that silenced the woman who found him. She gave him a name meant for flame, for shadow, and for truth. The man who claimed him needed a farmhand to quiet his ghosts. The woman who carried him sought something she lacked a name for. When he is grown, after the war and the promises and the surrender of his mother's only relic, the fire inside him will demand an answer: Are you the fire that saves, or the fire that burns? He will not know the answer.