Zoron was filled with fire and smoke. Dust hung in the air throughout the village. Lifeless bodies lay sprawled across every corner. Families screamed for their loved ones, trying to find each other through the mist.

  The smell of ash and blood was on everyone’s lips, and through the haze, the sound of mourning found its voice. Mothers dropped to their knees as they saw their children lying lifeless, picking them up and cradling them close. Their hands brushed still-warm skin before they lifted their heads toward the heavens, crying out to the gods to feel their pain.

  Families were torn apart by war, their lives forever changed at the hands of a madman.

  General Kantaos knelt as chaos raged around him.

  “General! General!” one of the Zoronians shouted, struggling to keep it together. “My son! I can’t find him, please, I need your help!” Her voice was strained and desperate.

  But her cries fell on deaf ears. The general was lost in a world of his own. Her pleas reached him only as muffled noise through the storm of his guilt.

  The villager, barely able to stand, stumbled past the general. Tears streaked down her bloodied face, but the hope that her son was still alive kept her moving. He was out there, and as long as she drew breath, she wouldn’t stop searching until they were reunited.

  “Honey, we’ve got to move!” shouted Keylah, but the general wouldn’t budge. His body might have been on Zoron, but his mind was not.

  How could I have been so stupid? he thought. Of course he would’ve seen this coming. How did I not see it? My naivety led my people to be slaughtered like animals.

  He lowered his head. I told them this was the right decision, and now they’re gone.

  The general kept kneeling, wrestling with his mind, trying to see where he went wrong.

  But Keylah knew there was no time for self-pity. Time was of the essence; they had to act, and fast.

  She stood before her husband, gripping both his biceps. She shook him with every ounce of strength she had. The general’s head snapped back, breaking him from his trance.

  The cries, the screams, the agony of his people filled his ears again. There was no escaping it anymore. He had to face the reality he helped create.

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  As his eyes turned, they scanned the land. Bodies littered the ground—children, elders, women, men—all lifeless, their eyes staring blankly toward the skies. The air shimmered with heat, thick with the metallic scent of blood and smoke.

  “Honey, what should we do?” Keylah’s voice trembled.

  The general’s mouth opened, but only a faint, broken sound escaped. His eyes told the story of a man undone. Every leader, when war is upon them, gives his people a speech to motivate them, to make them believe they can win. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He couldn’t rally them. He couldn’t give his people false hope in the face of certain death.

  “Honey, we must gather as—”

  Before she could finish, the sky went dark.

  The Zoronion people stopped scrambling. The screams and cries fell silent, replaced by hearts pounding and throats tightening. The ground trembled beneath their feet as La Mort’s ship pierced the clouds, flanked by countless blot-like vessels that blotted out the sun and drowned the land in darkness.

  La Mort stared down at the wreckage that was once the beautiful Zoron. His mouth curved from corner to corner, pleased at the suffering he’d inflicted.

  “Tell the men to prepare for departure,” La Mort commanded, his voice calm and deliberate.

  “Yes, sire,” one of the soldiers replied, sending a transmission to the rest of the fleet.

  “Father, please!” Ezra pleaded. “Haven’t they suffered enough? Half their people, if not more, gone in the blink of an eye. Their world is in ruins. Have mercy. I’m sure their lesson has been learnt.”

  La Mort’s gaze shifted from the burning planet to his son. The sadistic smile etched across his face didn’t fade.

  “In war, there is no mercy, boy. You do not leave your enemy the chance to retreat, regroup, or one day return with vengeance.”

  He turned back to his men, his grin widening. “Men, it would be rude of us to leave food on our plate. Let’s finish what we started.”

  General Kantaos watched as La Mort’s ships opened their bays.

  “Go, my love. Get out of here now. Get to safety!” he urged.

  Keylah’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not leaving without you!” she shouted, gripping her husband’s arm tightly.

  The general turned to his wife, his hands resting against her cheeks as tears streamed down his face. “We’re out of time, my love. Who would’ve thought our story would end here?”

  “No, it’s not over,” she said firmly. “While we still breathe, you have a chance.”

  His lips curved into a faint smile, pride gleaming through the pain. “My story has come to an end, but you’ll write many more. And I’ll be right there with you.” He pointed to her heart. “It’s the only way you and our people survive. If I go with you, he’ll never stop. He’ll hunt us until there’s nothing left. So take as many people as you can and go.”

  “Please, don’t do this,” she sobbed. “What is my life without you? My other half. I’d be broken. I wouldn’t survive the loss.”

  “You must,” he said softly. “For our people. For their future. You must lead them now, Keylah. You must be brave.”

  Tears flowed down her face like a river, but she knew he was right. Even though it tore her apart, she nodded and turned to the people gathered around them.

  “Come on!” she shouted. “Follow me! I’ll get you out of here!”

  The battered Zoronion people stumbled behind her. As she led them away from the wreckage, she looked back one last time at her husband, who whispered the words, “Love you,” before she disappeared into the distance.