The sun was shining as always, but that day there was something different. His normally comforting warmth seemed softer, almost tentative. Perhaps it was the bad feeling that hung over the inhabitants of the small village of Gajuu, or the smell of ash that had permeated the air since the night before. No one knew for sure, but the feeling of tranquility that enveloped the village disappeared with the first rays of morning, as if something terrible was about to happen.

Despite the tense atmosphere, the routine needed to continue. Standing still meant certain death for everyone. Rhett Stonehaven, one of the village's most skilled warriors, set out just after noon, riding his horse. His objective was simple: to search for supplies in the forest. He could have bought everything at the local market, but he preferred to hunt and gather himself – a way to make dinner that night more special.

The hours passed, and Rhett found himself late. Trusting his instincts, he decided to abandon what he had collected and urged the horse to gallop faster.

It was then that the burning smell invaded his nostrils. Screams – of children, women and warriors – mingled with the crackling flames. The air was thick, permeated with the unmistakable odor of death. Rhett's heart skipped a beat. He held the reins tightly, guiding the horse cautiously towards his home. At that moment, nothing else mattered. He needed to confirm... or dispel the worst of his fears.

"Please be alive..." Rhett thought, teeth clenched as he approached.

His house was destroyed, reduced to smoking rubble. The sight was painful, but something caught his attention: there was no blood. Against all expectations, a spark of hope lit up in his chest. He didn't know why, but he felt, with every fiber of his being, that his wife – you – was still alive.