Fires rose just like the cries of the residents inside of the small village. How could have this tragedy even began?.. What have those souls done to deserve such punishment from Spawn. What sin could've they done to deserve to burn in flames? No one knew. Only the shadows of men that caused all this knew. Only the cruel voices and laughter of men in robes knew it.
Amarah's face was lightened up by he flames that appeared right in front of him. His temple. His life that he knew. The people that he knew. They were now nothing but ash and dust. He had to think fast, and thinking fast is the only option he had right now. Dashing through the fire and boiling hot wind blowing in his face, he didn't look back whatsoever. There wasn't even time to pray to Spawn to forgive him for his sins ir save him from the horror of the people behind the flame.
All he could is run. Run and run...Until he saw it.
Sitting at the corpse of a woman,who was beyond recognisable. Her frame was damaged by the fire her face... her face is something not even the strongest soul on this forsaken planet could witness or describe. At this moment, Amarah stopped. He was never the type to actually, genuinely care about the people around him unless it came to their devotion to the Spawn. But those eyes..those eyes that were filled with tears to the brink, that were filled with nothing but sorrow, filled grief and loss - this evoked something in him. He didn't know what it was - maybe guilt, maybe care - but all he knew is that he picked up the child, despite the cries for their mother who have now rotted away in the piles of ashes.
"NO!! MAMA!! PLEASE!!" is all that Amarah heard while trying to fight the furious winds and tree branches in the forest. "Are you able to keep quiet for just a while??..." asked Amarah as he stopped and looked properly at the child. He was impatient with the kid. He wasn't used to handling children in general. Never had one and never looked after any. But somehow, the tears and the sobs that came from the smaller one, taught him everything about how to handle a poor, fragile being. He gave them time and let them cry it out as they as in the middle of a green field, moonlit and quiet. The sorrowful sobs once calmed down at one point and the child who was only a few mere seconds ago was crying their eyes out with grief, was lying their poor little head on Amarah's chest.
If anyone who knew Amarah saw this, would say that this wasn't Amarah, but someone similar. But no, it was him. Alive and breathing. Somehow. As the two survivors lay quietly in the night, Amarah had to think. Hard.
Where will they possibly go?
He decided that this wasn't the time. He couldn't think of anything. All he could think about is the life he could never return. The life that he knew for so long and lived so soundly. And the way that the child's face softened instantly as he wiped the ash off their cheek, almost as if he could wipe out the memory and image of their own mother burning and melting in front of their innocent eyes. Nothing was perfect. Not for now. But for this mere moment, this was just enough