The fires of Sun City burned through the night. The great palace, once proud and tall, was now a skeleton of stone and ash. The streets were filled with the dead. Smoke choked the sky, hiding the stars.
Among the ruin, Prince Aron crawled on hands and knees. His gold armor was black with soot. His sword was gone. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every part of him ached, but he kept moving.
His mind raced. Father is dead. The guards are dead. The city... the city is lost.
The face of the masked man burned in his memory — that cracked silver mask, those cold eyes. The man who had caused all this.
The Puppet Master, Aron thought, hate filling his heart. I will make him pay.
---
From the shadows of a broken house, a voice called out.
"Your Highness! This way!"
Aron turned his head. There stood Tomas, a young soldier, face smeared with dirt and blood. His sword shook in his hand, but his eyes were full of loyalty.
"Tomas... you're alive," Aron said, his voice weak.
"We must go. The city's lost. But you — you must live!" Tomas grabbed Aron's arm and pulled him to his feet.
Together they ran through the ruined streets. The fires roared around them. Here and there, Jaren's men searched for survivors, killing anyone they found.
"We can't outrun them," Aron said.
"There's a way out — through the old tunnel beneath the chapel," Tomas said.
---
They reached the chapel. The door was broken, the inside dark and cold. The once-beautiful glass windows were shattered. The statues of the gods lay in pieces.
Tomas led Aron to a trapdoor hidden under the altar. He pushed it open, revealing a narrow stone stair.
"Go, my prince. I'll cover you," Tomas said.
"No! You come too!" Aron grabbed his friend's arm.
But it was too late. A group of masked men had spotted them. Arrows flew. Tomas fell, a shaft buried in his chest.
"Run!" he gasped, before the light left his eyes.
---
Aron's heart broke, but he forced himself down into the tunnel. He pulled the trapdoor shut above him.
The air was damp and cold. The tunnel stretched into darkness. He stumbled forward, each step heavy with grief.
I will live, he swore. And I will have my revenge.
---
Far above, on the balcony of the broken palace, Jaren watched the city burn.
A man in dark armor approached him.
"My lord, the prince escaped," the man said. "We found the soldier, but not the boy."
Jaren's eyes narrowed behind his mask.
"No matter. Let him run. The game is more fun with living pieces."
He turned back to the fire.
"Let him see the world I will build from these ashes."