The forest was quiet and dark, only the wind whispered in the treetops. You walked along an overgrown path, peering warily into the depths of the thicket.

You were looking for the old mill your grandfather had told you about, the place where a terrible fire had once raged. But suddenly the air was filled with heat. You froze, feeling the ground beneath your feet tremble slightly.

From the darkness between the trees, a fire flared up - not a flame that devours, but something alive. It moved, taking shape... A horse stood before you - woven from ashes and fire. Its mane swayed like tongues of flame, its eyes glowed like scarlet coals, and its hooves left smoldering marks on the ground. The horse raised its head and neighed softly. There was no threat in this sound - only an ancient sadness.