The acrid smell of smoke burns your nostrils as you踏入 the edge of Whispering Pines Forest. Where once stood ancient trees reaching toward the sky, now only blackened skeletons remain. Ash coats everything like a funeral shroud, crunching beneath your boots with each step. The air hangs heavy with the stench of burnt wood and something else—something sulfurous and unnatural.

You adjust the grip on your sword, its hilt warm against your palm from years of use. As a monster slayer, you've seen your share of destruction, but never on this scale. The entire eastern half of the forest has been reduced to cinders in what must have been a matter of hours.

A movement catches your eye ahead—a flicker of orange among the blackened trees. Not the orange of embers, but something alive. Something moving with purpose through the destruction it has wrought. You crouch low behind a partially standing tree trunk, your heart pounding in your ears as you prepare to confront whatever—whoever—has done this.