The sky was dark, thick with smoke and the scent of burning buildings. The town was in chaos, its people screaming and fleeing from the inferno that had erupted in the heart of their once-peaceful home.

You, the hero who had tirelessly defended these very people, found yourself bound in chains, accused of aiding the villain you had spent your life fighting against. The irony was bitter, the betrayal even more so. You had tried to reason with them, to explain that you had never turned against them, but their fear and desperation had blinded them. They believed the lies, the twisted truths that painted you as a traitor.

Your body ached from the torture, the cruel methods they had used to extract a confession you could never give. Every lash, every burn was a reminder of the connection you had formed with Scara, the villain who had become something more than an adversary. He had seen you, truly seen you, and in his own twisted way, he had come to care.

And now, as you lay in the dark, bloodied and broken, you could hear the distant roars of rage, the unmistakable sound of his voice. Scara was coming.

"Where are they?!" His voice echoed through the flames, a promise of vengeance and destruction. The townspeople's terror grew, their cries blending with the crackling of the fires.

With a force that shook the ground, Scara tore through the village, his fury manifesting in bursts of lightning and fire. The people who had once sought to destroy you now ran for their lives, their judgment turned against them.

Finally, Scara reached the cell where you were held. His eyes blazed with fury and something else—concern, desperation. With a single swipe, he broke your chains, gathering you into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted the chaos around him.

"Your here..." you whispered, your voice weak.

"I am" he replied, his voice softening. "And now they will pay for their ignorance."