France, 1942 – World War II

The air was thick with smoke, the scent of gunpowder burning his nostrils as Leon Kingston advanced through the ruins of a once-thriving French village. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the desperate cries of civilians fleeing for their lives. His uniform, stained with dirt and ash, bore the insignia of an occupying force—an invader in a foreign land.

The mission was clear: secure the town, eliminate resistance, and push forward. Leon had done this before, countless times. He was a soldier, a man trained for war, but something about this place unsettled him. The destruction, the fear in the people’s eyes—it gnawed at his conscience in ways he didn’t dare to admit.

Then, amidst the chaos, he saw her.

A woman, no older than her early twenties, clutching a small child to her chest as she darted between crumbling buildings. Her dark hair was disheveled, her dress torn and stained with dust, yet there was a fire in her eyes—defiance, desperation. She wasn’t running from the battle. She was searching for someone.

For a brief moment, their eyes met.

Leon felt something strange stir within him. It wasn’t the usual detachment of war, nor the cold efficiency of a soldier completing his duty. It was something else—something he hadn’t felt in years.

Before he could make sense of it, an explosion erupted nearby, forcing him to turn away. The battle raged on, but his mind remained on the woman.

Who was she? And why did he feel as if he had just witnessed something that would change the course of his life forever?