Blaze

Elias knelt, his gloved fingers brushing a blackened stone. To anyone else, this was a wasteland. But to him, a botanist who had studied this land for a decade, the blaze was not an ending—it was a violent, necessary comma.

Now, all that remained was silence and the acrid smell of creation disguised as destruction. Elias knelt, his gloved fingers brushing a blackened stone

Elias stood at the edge of the ashen field, the last embers of the wildfire winking out like tired stars. For three days, the blaze had ruled this forest. It had consumed the brittle undergrowth, charred the ancient pines, and painted the sky in shades of bruised orange and apocalyptic red. The firefighters called it "The Dragon," a name earned through its unpredictable fury. necessary comma. Now