***
### Chapter 3: The Ashes of War
The dawn cast a pale, sickly light over the village's wreckage. Smoke still hung thick in the air, curling upward like ghostly fingers. Raen stood at the edge of the ruins, his small frame stiff and trembling. He clutched his practice sword, but it felt useless—like a toy in a world turned upside down.
He watched villagers moving among the debris—people broken, minds fractured, faces etched with exhaustion and despair. His stomach twisted, but he couldn't pull his eyes away. A knot of frustration tightened in his chest.
"Father," Raen burst out, voice cracking. "Why does it have to be like this? Why do people have to suffer?"
Vaelen's eyes, usually sharp and focused, were softer now, tinged with something darker, more tired. He looked at his son, then at the wreckage, before answering.
"Raen," he said quietly, "I know this looks terrible. But this is the truth of our world. War leaves scars no lesson can mend overnight. You can't change that—only how you face it."
Raen slumped slightly, shaking his head. "I trained so hard. I thought I was ready. But look… this is bigger than swords or anything I can learn."
"You are young," Vaelen said, voice rough but steady. "But you have seen enough now to understand what real strength is. It's not just about fighting. It's about holding your ground even when your heart is breaking."
Raen's fists clenched around his sword, knuckles white. "I want to help. I want to fix this. I want to stop the pain, but I don't know how."
"You can't," Vaelen replied softly. "What you can do is carry what's in your heart. Protect, serve, and never forget what you're fighting for. That's where true power begins."
Raen looked down, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
"You say that," he muttered. "But it doesn't feel enough. I see all this—" he gestured wildly at the remains of homes, "—and I want to do something. Anything. But I'm just a boy. I can't fix this."
Vaelen's face was unreadable for a moment. Then he crouched beside Raen, voice dropping to a gentle tone. "Raen, listen. I know it's hard. Pain can make you feel useless, like the flame inside you is about to flicker out. But that's when the fire is needed most. You think the world expects a boy to heal a broken land? No. But you can help in small ways—by showing strength in kindness, patience, and hope."
Raen's eyes flickered with uncertainty. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just whining, or like I'm getting in everyone's way."
"Everyone feels that way at times," Vaelen said simply. "Even those with the strongest hearts. The difference is whether you get back up. You have to let the pain teach you, not break you. That's what the flame within is for."
Raen's jaw tightened, and he looked away, ashamed of his frustration. He felt like a storm of emotions—anger, helplessness, shame—swirling inside him. It was confusing and embarrassing to feel so small in such a huge world of suffering.
"I just… I don't want to seem weak," he finally admitted in a trembling voice.
Vaelen put a hand on his shoulder. "There's strength in understanding your own pain. The real hero is the one who doesn't run from it but faces it head-on. You're still young, Raen. You're learning what it means to carry that flame—not just with your sword but with your heart. And that takes courage, more than any sword."
They sat in silence, listening to the distant wind and the faint cries of children. Raen's eyes shimmered as he fought back tears—not because he was weak, but because he was finally beginning to understand.
"I don't know if I can do enough," Raen whispered.
"You don't have to do everything," Vaelen said softly. "Just do what you can—and let the rest go. Focus on who you are becoming. That's the real journey."
Raen looked at his father, a flicker of resolve lighting in his eyes. "I'll try to be better. For them… for everyone."
Vaelen nodded, a rare smile breaking through his worn face. "That's the way, Raen. Remember, the flame is yours—keep it burning, no matter how dark the night."
As the sun rose higher, casting light on the rubble, Raen realized that strength wasn't always loud or brave. Sometimes, it was quiet—facing the pain, holding onto hope, and learning to stand again after falling.
***