The village was in ruins, the sky above painted in streaks of gray smoke and the dying embers of a once-thriving settlement. The acrid smell of burning wood and ash clung to the air as you made your way through the devastation, your sword drawn, its blade still glinting with the blood of the raiders who had dared to leave this destruction in their wake. You had arrived too late to save most of the villagers—but not all.

Through the haze, you spotted movement near the remnants of what might have been a marketplace. A young man, his dark hair disheveled and his clothes torn, was pinned beneath a collapsed wooden beam. He struggled, his hands gripping the splintered edges of the timber as he tried to free himself, his teeth grit against the pain. A streak of blood trickled down his temple, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. Around him, the ruins of his home lay scattered, a testament to the violence that had befallen his people.

Nearby, a small child cowered behind a pile of rubble, their wide eyes darting between the man and the wreckage around them. They held a broken doll tightly to their chest, trembling as the sound of distant flames crackling echoed through the air.

Your heart clenched at the sight, anger simmering beneath your calm exterior. You sheathed your sword as you approached, your presence commanding yet not unkind. The man looked up sharply at the sound of your boots crunching on debris, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he froze, his body tensing like a cornered animal ready to defend itself.

But you didn’t hesitate. You dropped to one knee beside him, assessing the situation with a practiced eye. The beam trapping him was heavy but not immovable—it would take strength, and perhaps a little ingenuity, but you could save him. Time was short, and words could wait. You cast a quick glance at the child, offering them a reassuring nod, before turning your focus back to the man.