They entered the village before the sun had even risen. The faint light of dawn couldn't chase away the cold clinging in every crevice of stone. Lioren's village—once the only warm corner in the foggy mess of his memories—was now a black hole. No longer a home, but a festering wound on the map of the world.
From the charred remains of houses, dark eyes began to appear. Survivors.
No one greeted them.
No one smiled.
No one cried.
Only whispers, quieter than the wind:
> "The one who burned his own mother alive."
"A monster in human skin."
"He's back... and hell follows with him."
Lioren froze.
The whispers were small, but pierced deep like iron needles into his marrow.
Talion placed a hand on his shoulder, about to say something—but stopped.
He knew. No words of comfort could stand against the weight of collective hatred.
---
Liora led him away from the crowd, but the stares still clawed at them like the talons of vengeful spirits.
A child—no older than seven—stood in front of a cracked wooden door, clutching a piece of old cloth—perhaps something left by his father.
> "Mom said: don't look into his eyes, or you'll catch fire."
Lioren didn't dare meet the child's gaze.
But in that moment, he wished he had never been born.
---
Beneath the house, the three of them found a door sealed by four layers of binding talismans. Talion peeled them away one by one, his blood dripping onto the floor as each incantation lashed out in resistance.
Inside was a stone room—where Lioren's father once performed his rituals.
On the walls were drawings made with blood.
Not arcane symbols—
But portraits of Lioren, from when he was just a child.
One of them had a message scrawled beneath:
> "The Gate has opened, blood has spilled, but the child still remembers not his purpose."
---
As he stepped into the center of the room, the Fire Core within Lioren began to heat up.
He collapsed.
His arm caught fire.
The flames were not bright, but smoldering—as though burning from within his blood.
> "You destroyed everything."
"Your mother cried until she died."
"The fire you lit didn't just burn homes... it burned our souls."
The voice came from nowhere, each word a chain tightening around his heart.
Broken images crashed into him:
His mother collapsing, engulfed in flames.
A child standing in the fire, laughing.
Haha, this candy tastes weird—it's bitter and metallic.
A man's hand rested on his head, whispering:
> "You will be everything. Or nothing at all."
---
Lioren screamed.
Flames burst forth.
Stone walls cracked.
Talion rushed forward, slicing through the ring of fire with his lightning blade.
Liora caught Lioren as he collapsed unconscious, her eyes red—not with pity, but with fear.
Talion:
"Get Lioren out. I'll see what else is down here."
After Liora helped Lioren out of the chamber, Talion began searching the room.
Talion:
"A journal?"
---
Above, as Liora guided Lioren up the stairs, a stone struck her shoulder.
Then another—at her knee.
Then came the howls, like wild beasts in the dead of night:
> "Get away from us!"
"That girl's bringing the monster with her!"
"It was that boy who brought this upon us!"
"Get out of our village!"
The faces of the survivors emerged—gaunt, sunken, twisted with hate.
Some wept for their lost children.
Some clutched the corpses of their loved ones.
But when their eyes fell upon Lioren being carried by Liora, they all seemed to go mad.
> "We saw it—his eyes lit up like hellfire—!"
"He's a demon wearing a human face!"
"You brought him here to finish us off, didn't you?!"
As they readied to hurl more stones, a sword slammed into the ground between them.
Talion:
"Let's go. We're leaving this place."
His voice was cold. Expressionless.