The forest had turned quiet after dawn. Dew still clung to the burned tips of leaves as the trio — Troday, Lira, and Amylo — made their way through the valley. The scent of ash lingered faintly, though a crisp wind carried hints of pine from somewhere ahead.
Amylo walked slightly apart from them, his gaze scanning the horizon with habitual wariness. Even when surrounded by calm, his movements were precise, every step measured. The faint glow around his hands had dimmed since their clash the previous day, but Troday could still feel that heat radiating off him — not dangerous now, just alive.
"So…" Troday finally broke the silence. "You always travel like you're expecting the ground to explode beneath your feet?"
Amylo didn't look back. "Only when I'm not the one setting it off."
Lira stifled a laugh, shaking her head. "You two are impossible."
Troday grinned. "Just trying to make conversation."
"Then say something worth answering."
"Ouch." Troday raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, firebrand, noted."
Amylo gave a faint smirk but didn't reply. For a moment, only the rustle of leaves and their footsteps filled the air.
They reached a clearing by midday — a stretch of uneven rock surrounded by shallow pools reflecting the sky. It was beautiful in a broken sort of way, like nature's attempt to heal from an old wound. Amylo stopped at the edge of one of the pools, crouching to touch the surface. The water shimmered faintly with residual energy.
"Old battlefield," he murmured. "You can still feel the residue of power here."
Lira frowned. "From who?"
Amylo's voice softened. "Mages. Centuries ago. They fought here until the land itself cracked. You can still smell the burnt mana."
Troday crouched beside him. "Guess fire runs in history too."
Amylo's hand tightened briefly before he stood again. "Not everything that burns is remembered."
There was something in his tone — quiet, heavy, almost haunted. Lira caught it but said nothing.
They rested briefly before moving again, cutting through the denser part of the forest where sunlight flickered like golden embers through the canopy. Birds chirped above, and the faint rush of water echoed somewhere distant.
Troday finally asked what had been gnawing at him since they met. "That fire of yours… it feels different. Refined, controlled. But also… angry. What drives it?"
Amylo didn't stop walking. "Anger isn't fuel. It's a spark. You can light a world with it or burn yourself alive."
Troday tilted his head. "Which did you choose?"
Amylo's smile was sharp. "Ask me when there's something left to burn."
Before Troday could reply, the air suddenly shifted — a low vibration pulsing beneath their feet. Lira's hand flew to her weapon. Amylo stopped cold, his eyes narrowing.
From the trees ahead, a low rumble echoed — followed by a cracking sound, like stone splitting under pressure.
Troday's instincts kicked in. "Move!"
A massive burst of energy exploded from the ground, throwing shards of rock in every direction. The trio dove for cover as a wave of molten heat tore through the clearing.
When the dust settled, a towering figure emerged from the haze — skin like ironstone, eyes glowing crimson. A corrupted guardian — remnants of the old mage wars Amylo had just spoken of. Its presence distorted the air itself, and its roar shook the trees.
Lira's expression hardened. "What is that?"
"An echo," Amylo said grimly. "A remnant of those who couldn't die properly."
The guardian's arm, thick and molten, swung toward them. Troday leapt forward, blade flashing as he intercepted the blow. The impact sent him flying back several feet, his sword buzzing with the aftershock.
Amylo extended his hand, flames spiraling around his arm. "Stay behind me."
"Wait—" Troday started, but Amylo was already moving.
Fire burst from his palms in a roaring torrent, slamming into the guardian's chest. The creature staggered but didn't fall. Its molten core pulsed angrily, and it retaliated with a wave of heat so intense the air screamed.
Amylo gritted his teeth, forcing the fire aside with his own. Two infernos clashing — one born of rage, the other of mastery.
Troday recovered, sprinting in low. "I'll flank it!"
"Don't get too close!" Amylo barked.
Troday ignored him, darting past the creature's arm and driving his blade into its side. Sparks flew, but the blade barely dug an inch. The guardian swung again, sending Troday tumbling back, narrowly dodging a molten fist.
Amylo clenched his fist, the fire around him shifting to a deep orange. "Enough."
He leapt forward, every step igniting the ground beneath him. Flames spiraled upward, forming a whirling column around his arm. With a shout, he plunged his hand into the guardian's chest — right into its molten core.
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
Then — explosion.
The forest flashed white. A sound like thunder tore through the clearing. When the light faded, the guardian stood still, its body cracking — then collapsing into ash.
Amylo landed on one knee, his cloak half-burnt, his breath ragged.
Troday rushed over. "You alright?"
Amylo nodded slowly, though his hands trembled slightly. "It's fine. Just… takes more out of me than I like."
Lira helped steady him. "That was reckless."
He smirked faintly. "So was standing next to me."
Troday chuckled. "Guess we're all bad at staying alive."
The tension bled from the air, replaced by quiet laughter — the kind that comes after shared danger. For the first time since they'd met, Amylo's expression softened, the sharpness in his eyes dimming just a little.
Troday clapped him on the shoulder. "For a guy who burns everything, you're not half bad."
Amylo raised an eyebrow. "Careful, swordsman. You sound like you're trying to be my friend."
"Maybe I am."
For a long moment, Amylo said nothing — then let out a low breath. "...You're persistent."
"Occupational hazard," Troday grinned.
Amylo looked out toward the east, where smoke still drifted faintly above the treeline. "Cradlefall's not far," he said quietly. "But I should warn you — not every fire burns for warmth."
Troday's smile faded, replaced by something thoughtful. "You mean yours?"
Amylo's gaze darkened. "No. The one waiting ahead."
He turned, walking toward the distant horizon. The others followed, unaware that the faint flicker in Amylo's eyes wasn't just reflection — it was conflict.
Because deep within, buried under ember and pride, he already knew the truth.
The next time their paths crossed the flame — he wouldn't be walking beside them.
He'd be standing against them.
To be Continued.....
Written By:-Punit Israni
Enhanced By:-Chatgpt