The night sky was an endless canvas of black, pierced only by the roaring inferno that consumed what had once been Ethan Vale's home. Flames clawed at the crumbling walls, sending sparks and embers spiraling into the cold air, a chaotic storm of destruction and sorrow.
Ethan stood motionless, the faint glow flickering over his sharp features, the hard lines carved into his face by years of pain and loss. His breath came in shallow, controlled bursts, the cold seeping into his bones but not reaching his core.
He had returned.
And nothing remained.
The house — the sanctuary where laughter had once lived — was now nothing more than ashes and memories.
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms until the sting grounded him.
Memories surged forward, unbidden and raw.
His father's booming laugh, echoing through sunlit rooms.
The smell of his mother's cooking on quiet Sunday mornings.
The warmth of his sister's hand in his.
All gone.
Gone with the smoke.
His mind flashed back to that terrible night five years ago — the night that burned the future he'd once dreamed of to ashes.
---
It had started as a normal evening.
The family gathered around the dinner table, plates piled high with food, voices overlapping in the comfortable noise of belonging.
Then, the lights flickered.
A faint smell of gas crept in.
Ethan's father frowned, rising to check the stove.
Before anyone could react, the explosion ripped through the house like a thunderclap, shattering windows, hurling debris, and swallowing everything in flame.
Screams.
Pain.
Darkness.
Ethan remembered crawling through the wreckage, smoke choking his lungs, the heat searing his skin, desperate to find them.
But there was nothing left.
Only silence.
---
Back in the present, Ethan's gaze drifted toward the twisted steel frame of what had once been the front door.
His sister's favorite painting lay half-buried in the rubble, edges charred, colors faded.
He knelt, brushing soot away with trembling fingers.
"Why?" The single word escaped, raw and broken.
No answer came.
Only the distant wail of sirens, growing closer.
He rose, stepping back as the cold wind swept through the remains, scattering ash like mourning petals.
The phone vibrated sharply in his pocket.
He pulled it out with deliberate calm.
A message, short and cold:
"They know you're back. Stay hidden."
No signature. No explanation.
Just a warning.
Ethan's lips pressed into a thin line.
The corporation — the faceless puppeteers who had orchestrated this nightmare — were already closing in.
And he had only just begun to fight back.
---
He moved quickly, shadows swallowing his figure as he melted into the darkness beyond the burning ruins.
The city's neon glow flickered in the distance, a stark contrast to the destruction here.
Ethan's mind raced through his options.
He had one chance to strike.
One chance to dismantle the machine that had taken everything from him.
---
Suddenly, a sharp noise echoed behind him — a snap of a twig, a whisper of movement.
He froze, senses alert.
A figure emerged from the shadows — a woman, eyes sharp and wary.
"Ethan Vale?" Her voice was soft but firm.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Who wants to know?"
She stepped closer, revealing a streak of silver in her dark hair.
"Name's Luna Reyes. I have information. About them. About the corporation."
Ethan's heart quickened.
This could be the break he needed.
Or another trap.
The night was heavy with smoke, the acrid scent of burning wood and plastic stinging Ethan Vale's nostrils as he stood at the edge of the ruins. The orange blaze clawed the sky, devouring the remnants of a life that had once been whole. The flames twisted and writhed like living beasts, hungrily consuming every inch of what used to be a family home — his family home.
Ethan's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed into slits. The flickering firelight revealed the jagged scars on his knuckles and the shadowed hollows beneath his eyes — the marks of a man haunted by memories too sharp to forget, but too dangerous to hold onto.
He took a slow, deliberate breath, the smoke thick in his lungs, but he welcomed the sting. It anchored him in the present, kept him from slipping back into the past that tormented him.
They told me it was an accident.
The official reports, the investigations, the meaningless condolences — all lies. A gas leak, a faulty wire, a tragic accident.
But Ethan knew the truth. He had seen the men in black suits leaving that night. He had seen the glint of cold eyes, the flash of a silenced pistol. He had watched his father fall, felt the heat of the explosion shatter his world.
He knelt beside the charred remains of what had been the front porch, brushing ash from a twisted piece of metal. The bitter scent of smoke clung to his clothes, mingling with the cold night air.
His mind replayed the memories like broken film reels.
---
Five Years Ago
The evening had been ordinary, almost painfully so. The Vale family sat together in the cozy living room, the warm glow of the fireplace painting their faces gold. His sister, Mia, laughed as she teased their father about his terrible cooking attempts. His mother's voice floated through the air, calm and loving.
Ethan felt safe. For the first time in months, he felt that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.
Then the lights flickered.
A strange smell wafted in, subtle but unmistakable.
Gas.
His father stood abruptly, his brows furrowed.
"I'll check the stove," he said.
Before anyone could stop him, the explosion tore through the house like a thunderclap. The world was ripped apart — glass shattered, walls crumbled, fire roared.
Screams filled the air.
Chaos.
Darkness.
---
Back to the Present
Ethan's eyes burned as tears threatened to spill, but he swallowed them down with the bitter taste of rage.
This wasn't just loss.
This was war.
He had spent the last five years preparing, training in the shadows, sharpening his mind and body into a weapon forged by pain. The corporation responsible had escaped justice, hiding behind layers of influence and lies.
But tonight, that would end.
The phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his thoughts. Ethan pulled it out, scanning the message.
"They know you're back. Stay hidden."
No sender. No explanation. Just a warning.
His pulse quickened. Someone was watching — waiting for him to make a move.
He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, eyes scanning the dark streets ahead. The city was alive with neon lights and distant sirens, oblivious to the personal hell burning on its outskirts.
---
Suddenly, a sound — a faint snap of a twig, a whisper of movement.
Ethan tensed, muscles coiling like a predator.
From the shadows, a figure emerged — a woman. Her black hair was streaked with silver, and her eyes held a fierce intelligence.
"Ethan Vale," she said softly.
He studied her warily.
"Who wants to know?"
The woman stepped forward, hands raised to show she meant no harm.
"Luna Reyes. I know who did this — who burned your world. I have information. About the corporation."
Ethan's heart hammered.
Every instinct screamed caution, but the hunger for truth burned brighter.
"Talk," he said.
---
Luna's voice was low, urgent.
"They're planning something bigger. More than just you. This corporation controls governments, economies, even the media. They're building a weapon — something that could change the world."
Ethan's mind raced. He had heard whispers, rumors of secret projects, but nothing concrete.
"Why tell me?" he asked.
"Because I want to stop them too," Luna said. "But I can't do it alone."
The air thickened with unspoken tension. Two damaged souls, forged in fire, standing at the edge of a war they couldn't ignore.
Ethan nodded slowly.
"Then we're in this together."
---
They moved away from the burning ruins into the cold, neon-lit streets. As they walked, Ethan's thoughts tumbled in his mind — questions, plans, fears.
Who was Luna really? How deep did the conspiracy run? And most of all, what did he have left to lose?
Because this time, the fire wasn't just burning his past.
It was burning the world.