Morning arrived slowly.

  The fire had burned itself tired, leaving behind a city of gray ash and broken stone. Rescue workers moved through the ruins like shadows, pulling survivors from the rubble.

  For a brief moment, watching families embrace, I thought perhaps the cost had been worth it.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Then the whispers began.

  Secrets always find a way to rise from ashes.

  Someone spoke my name.

  Someone pointed.

  She turned toward me, confusion slowly freezing into horror.

  “You?” she whispered. “You burned this city?”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “You destroyed everything… for a favor?”

  Tears filled her eyes, but anger burned brighter.

  “You call this love?” she said. “If love needs a funeral pyre to exist… then it isn’t love. It’s a disease.”