Dawn crept over Aldermere’s rooftops, illuminating the smoking ruins of the Fletcher family shop. Ember stood before it, her small frame still, her nightgown hanging in tatters and gray with soot. Fresh blisters marked her arms and legs, though the pain had faded to a distant throb.


    The merchant district came alive around her. Cart wheels rattled on cobblestones. Shopkeepers called their morning greetings. Someone’s laughter cut through the air, jarringly bright against the destruction before her.


    “Mother,” she whispered through cracked lips. “Father.”


    Their voices haunted her - the desperate pounding, her name called out one final time. Her shoulders tensed with each remembered sound, muscles knotted tight beneath ash-stained skin.


    Smoke curled up from the blackened beams, bitter on her tongue with each shallow breath. The windows that once displayed her father’s finest silks gaped empty and scorched. The Fletcher family sign lay broken among the debris, its carved letters lost beneath char and ash.


    A merchant paused nearby. “Terrible business, that. You shouldn’t be standing here alone, child. Where are your-”


    He fell silent as he took in her ash-covered nightgown and bare feet. His face shifted from concern to unease, and he hurried past without meeting her eyes.


    Ember kept her gaze fixed on the ruins, on the spot where she’d last heard her parents. Though the morning air warmed, cold seemed to radiate from her bones. The city’s familiar bustle felt distant and strange - a mockery of the night when someone had trapped her parents inside and set their lives ablaze.


    Her fingers curled tight, the raw skin of her palms protesting.


    “Young miss?” A gentle voice ventured. “Perhaps you should-”


    “Don’t.” She barely whispered it, but the speaker retreated all the same.


    Sunlight crept across the wreckage, highlighting each loss - her father’s ruined fabrics, her mother’s melted sewing basket, their whole world reduced to cinders while Aldermere woke to another ordinary day.


    But there would be no more ordinary days. Not for her. There was only this new reality, marked by absence and the memory of voices she would never hear again.


    Ember’s bare feet left dark prints in the ash as she forced herself forward. Each step felt like wading through deep water, her body fighting against what lay ahead in the ruins. Her toe caught on something - a glint of silver against the char. With shaking hands, she brushed away soot to reveal her mother’s pendant, the one Father had given her on their wedding day.


    The silver lay heavy in her palm, its surface tarnished but whole. Mother never took it off, not even to sleep. Ember’s fingers closed around it, its edges pressing into her blistered skin.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    “Mother?” The word scraped from her throat.


    Some terrible knowing pulled her deeper into the devastation. Blackened timbers groaned beneath her feet. The acrid smell grew stronger, mixing with something else - something that made her stomach heave even as she pressed on.


    She reached what remained of the shop’s entrance. The heavy beam that had trapped them lay shattered, revealing what waited behind. There, in the ash…


    Two dark shapes lay intertwined, barely recognizable as human. One curved around the other in a final protective embrace. She didn’t need to see their faces to know - these burned remains were all that was left of her parents.


    A sound ripped from her throat - raw and animal. It echoed off the ruined walls as she staggered backward, her legs failing. The pendant bit deeper into her palm.


    They’d tried so hard to reach her. To save her. And someone had made certain they couldn’t.


    Her knees hit the ground. She couldn’t look away from their bodies, together even now. Her father’s final act of protection, made useless by whoever had trapped them inside.


    “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t…”


    Words dissolved into that awful keening. She pressed her hand against her mouth, tasting blood and ash, but couldn’t stop the sounds that tore from her.


    The morning sun crept higher, catching on the blackened shapes that had been her parents. Ember’s fingers tightened around the pendant until its edges drew blood, the pain a sharp anchor in a world suddenly emptied of everything else.


    Ember knelt in the ash when a shadow fell across her hands. Looking up, she saw Markus Blackwood looming over her, his merchant’s rings catching the dawn light. The same rings she’d watched threaten her family weeks ago in their shop. His eyes moved from her to her parents’ bodies, and his lip curled.


    “Unfortunate,” he said with practiced refinement. “The plan was for all three of you to burn together.”


    Her mother’s pendant dug into her palm as memories crystalized - his silhouette in their doorway, the quiet threats to her father, his calculating stare after she’d revealed his silk forgeries. The dark figures who’d watched their home burn.


    “Your father might have lived, had he shown better judgment. Had he taught his daughter to hold her tongue.” Markus adjusted his silk sleeve with manicured fingers. “Instead, he died screaming while you cowered in the street. A shameful end for a merchant.”


    Her world narrowed to his soft, well-fed hand. She lunged without thought, teeth finding flesh. Blood flooded her mouth as she bit deeper, driven by grief and fury. His skin and muscle gave way with a wet tear. His howl echoed off the buildings as he tried to jerk free, but she clamped down harder until something crunched between her teeth.


    His boot caught her ribs, sending her sprawling into the ashes. She curled around the stabbing pain in her side, gasping. The copper taste of him filled her mouth, and though her body trembled, a dark satisfaction bloomed as she watched him cradle his mangled hand.


    “You little witch,” he hissed, all pretense of civility gone. His eyes darted to the growing crowd drawn by his scream. Blood soaked through his silk handkerchief. His good hand twitched toward his belt knife, but too many witnesses had gathered.


    She dragged herself back through the ash, ribs screaming. Her fingers closed around her mother’s pendant.


    “Run,” he snarled, shoulders rigid. “And pray we never meet alone.” Blood dripped onto his fine clothes as he glared at the onlookers.


    Ember pushed to her feet, keeping him in view as she retreated. She absorbed it all - his mask of refinement stripped away, the animal rage in his eyes, his cultured voice degraded to raw hatred. The city guard would ignore her. The merchant guild would shield him.


    His threats followed her into the crowd. She ran until her legs failed and her chest burned, until her home was just another pillar of smoke. The pendant’s edges bit into her palm, each step carrying her toward a new purpose. She’d marked him now - he’d remember her every time he reached for his precious silks with that ruined hand.