I stare in horror from atop a hill as the most luxurious building of Jalaka burst into flames. I can’t help but weep, a sob breaking the unsettling silence.

Then comes the screams. The screams of my friends. I clutch my basket tighter, nearly allowing the woven item to tumble down and spill its contents onto the flowering hill.

Flames engulf the left side of the city, rapidly spreading through. I let out a scream, my woven basket actually slipping from my grip this time. My hand clutches at my blouse, nails digging into the cotton.

As flames reflect inside my eyes, I finally realize that my city is on fire. And people could die. I nearly collapse, my knees feeling like jelly beneath me. I sit atop the grassy hill, morning dew glittering on my skirt, and sob, arms curling around myself for some kind of comfort.

My home, my friends, everything I’ve ever known is now most likely burnt to a crisp. My eyes catch a figure in the distant, skittering away from the scene.

My mouth falls open, my eyes widening. “Sister…?” I choke out lowly, raising my hand over my mouth.