In a remote farming village near the western frontier, a young boy stood barefoot in the dirt path, staring up at the strange red sky.
The dome stretched endlessly above them, dyeing the clouds in a deep, unnatural crimson.
"…Mother," he said softly, tugging at the woman's sleeve beside him, "...why is the sky bleeding?"
The woman opened her mouth to answer…
Then soft crimson flames suddenly rose from her shoulders.
The boy's eyes widened.
He turned around, only to see the same silent fire blooming across every person in the village.
The elders sitting under the old tree, the farmers returning from the fields, the children who had been playing just moments ago… each of them ignited without struggle, their bodies turning into quiet pillars of flame that slowly drifted upward toward the distant sky.
The boy stood frozen in place, small hands trembling, as the familiar faces of his entire world burned in silence.
And soon… he followed them as well.
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