The morning mist still clung to the valley when Amylo stirred from his meditation, his eyes reflecting the faint flicker of flames that danced just above his palms. Around him, the forest lay half-burnt — a silent witness to his unrestrained power. Each breath he drew carried with it the lingering warmth of cinders, and yet his expression remained calm, almost detached, as if the devastation before him was no more than an unintentional side effect of his existence.
For Amylo, fire wasn't chaos — it was language. A way of speaking to the world that understood only force.
He stood, dusting off the ash from his crimson cloak. His hair, streaked with ember-red highlights, caught the rising sun like sparks in motion. His boots left faint scorch marks on the earth as he walked toward the river that snaked through the valley. The reflection staring back at him was sharp, proud — but behind his steady eyes was the fatigue of someone who'd burned too brightly for too long.
"Still chasing ghosts," he murmured, dipping his hands into the cold water. "And yet, they never burn."
The sound of footsteps behind him snapped him back. They were light but deliberate — not an animal's tread. Amylo's eyes narrowed as he turned, his right hand already glowing faint orange.
"Easy," came a familiar voice. "Not every rustle in the woods is an ambush."
It was Troday. His tone carried a lazy calm, but there was a tension in his posture — the kind of readiness that came from countless fights survived on instinct alone. Behind him, Lira moved quietly, her hand on the hilt of her short blade.
Amylo's fire dimmed, but he didn't lower his hand completely. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice flat. "This is no place for wanderers."
Troday shrugged, his sharp grin flashing briefly. "And yet here you are — a man with enough heat to turn a forest to glass. Guess we're all lost in the wrong place."
There was a pause, heavy and uncertain. Lira's eyes flickered between them — two storms meeting in silence.
Amylo's gaze softened slightly. "You've got courage. Most run when they see me."
Troday chuckled. "Fire doesn't scare me. I've seen worse things in the dark."
The remark earned him a faint smirk from Amylo. "Then you haven't seen me fight."
The air between them thickened. Troday could feel it — the rise in temperature, the faint shimmer in the air like a mirage. Amylo's aura wasn't wild; it was refined, controlled — the kind that came from years of surviving his own power.
"You plan to prove it?" Troday asked, resting his sword on his shoulder, eyes gleaming.
"I don't plan," Amylo replied, stepping forward as his boots left faint trails of smoke. "I act."
In the next instant, the world erupted.
A wall of flame burst from Amylo's palm, sweeping toward Troday like a living serpent. Troday dashed aside, rolling into the grass as his sword cut through the air, slicing the fire clean in half. The sound of metal against flame echoed like thunder.
"Fast," Amylo murmured approvingly.
Troday countered, his blade glowing faint blue as he channeled his energy into it. He lunged, cutting through the air toward Amylo's shoulder — but the mage moved effortlessly, letting his cloak catch fire as he spun and hurled another blast point-blank.
The explosion sent dust flying, the air cracking with heat. Troday stumbled back, shielding his face.
"You fight like the wind," Amylo said, walking through the smoke, fire licking his arms like living armor. "But the wind can't fight the sun."
"Maybe not," Troday said, straightening with a smirk, "but it can change its course."
He struck the ground, sending a shockwave of compressed energy forward. It wasn't strong enough to break Amylo's stance, but it sent sparks scattering across the burnt earth, breaking the mage's rhythm for a split second — just enough for Troday to dash in again.
Steel met flame. The impact sent shockwaves that bent the grass flat around them.
Amylo's grin widened. For the first time in years, someone matched his pace.
He spun, his left hand flaring as he unleashed a burst of heat. Troday leapt back just in time — but his cloak caught fire.
"Damn!" Troday cursed, yanking it off and tossing it aside. Amylo chuckled lowly. "You learn quickly."
"I don't have a choice!"
Amylo extended his palm again — but this time, the fire hesitated. His expression faltered for a brief moment. The flames flickered uncertainly before vanishing into smoke.
Troday noticed immediately. "What's wrong? Out of fuel?"
Amylo exhaled, his breath shaky. "No… restraint."
He lowered his hand slowly. "If I kept going, I'd have burned this valley and you with it."
Troday stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. "So you do know when to stop."
Amylo looked up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Sometimes. Depends on who's watching."
The tension eased between them. Lira stepped closer, lowering her weapon, her eyes filled with cautious curiosity.
"You're not like other mages," she said softly.
Amylo tilted his head. "No," he said. "I'm worse."
The wind carried the scent of smoke and river water. The battlefield they'd made was quiet now — blackened, but alive with an odd peace.
Troday sheathed his sword, his tone softer. "We didn't come to fight you. We're heading east — to Cradlefall. If you're done setting forests on fire, maybe you'd like to walk with us."
Amylo hesitated. His eyes flickered with something — surprise, maybe, or the ghost of a feeling he hadn't allowed himself in years.
He looked past them, to the faint horizon where mountains burned gold in the morning sun.
"East, huh?" he murmured. "Fine. But I walk at my own pace."
Troday grinned. "Long as you don't light the path."
Amylo smirked back. "No promises."
And with that, the three of them — the wanderer, the swordsman, and the girl with silent eyes — began their slow trek toward the unknown. Behind them, the valley still smoked, a quiet reminder that even destruction could mark the start of something new.
The flames, for now, had found company
To be Continued...
Written by:-Punit Israni
Enhanced by:-Chatgpt