The next morning arrived quietly — no flames, no storms, no echoes of battle. Only the hush of dawn spreading across the valley. The forest they had nearly destroyed had somehow survived, its leaves trembling faintly in the breeze as if sighing in relief.
Troady sat on a jagged rock near a shallow stream, the cold water washing soot from his hands. His reflection rippled with the movement of the current — tired eyes, streaks of ash across his cheek, and a faint burn along his collarbone.
He didn't feel victorious. Just... lighter.
Behind him, the sound of footsteps approached. Amylo.
The fire mage looked less like a warrior now and more like a man stripped of purpose. His cloak was scorched, his gloves torn, and his usual aura of confidence replaced by quiet exhaustion.
Troady didn't turn as he spoke. "You should rest. Your burns aren't small ones."
Amylo chuckled faintly. "Neither are yours." He eased down beside Troady, dipping his hands into the stream. The water hissed where it touched his palms, steam rising briefly before fading.
For a long moment, neither said anything. The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore — just heavy with unspoken things.
Finally, Amylo broke it. "You held back in that fight."
Troady shrugged. "So did you."
Amylo smirked, though his eyes didn't quite match the humor. "Guess that makes us both fools."
"Or friends," Troady said softly.
Amylo's smirk faltered. He turned to look at him, searching his expression. "After what happened? You'd still call me that?"
Troady met his gaze. "You had orders. You followed them. Doesn't make what we built fake. Just… complicated."
Amylo stared at the water, watching it swirl around his fingers. "Complicated. That's one word for it." He looked up toward the distant mountains, their peaks half-veiled by mist. "You know, I joined the Council when I was sixteen. They took me in after my village burned. Said they'd teach me to control what destroyed everything I loved."
"And did they?"
Amylo gave a humorless laugh. "They taught me how to burn cleaner."
Troady frowned.
Amylo continued, voice quieter now. "They say the world needs balance — gods, mortals, all of it. They believe you're the flaw in that balance. A mistake in creation. If I hadn't met you myself, I might've believed them."
Troady's tone softened. "And now?"
Amylo sighed. "Now I'm not sure who the real mistake is — you, or the people who decided what balance meant."
Troady leaned back on his hands, eyes on the rising sun. "You ever think maybe the world isn't meant to be balanced? Maybe it's meant to change?"
Amylo glanced at him. "Spoken like someone who's never watched balance collapse."
Troady gave a small grin. "Spoken like someone who has."
Amylo's laugh this time was genuine, though faint. "You're a strange man, Troady."
"I get that a lot."
The quiet settled again, easier now. Lira approached from behind, carrying a makeshift pouch of herbs and water. Her expression softened when she saw them sitting together — not as warriors, but as people finally breathing after chaos.
"Looks like you two didn't kill each other after all," she said dryly.
"Almost did," Amylo replied. "But he's annoyingly persuasive."
Troady grinned. "Guess I talk better with swords than words."
Lira handed Amylo a flask. "Drink. You're pale."
He took it gratefully. "I'll live."
"That's new," she teased.
Troady chuckled, watching the exchange. For the first time in days, the tension between them didn't feel lethal — just layered with understanding.
Still, he couldn't shake the faint unease coiling in his chest. Something about Amylo's silence when he wasn't joking… it wasn't just exhaustion. It was conflict.
Later that evening, as the sky deepened into a bruised purple, the three sat around a small campfire. Amylo leaned back against a rock, arms crossed, eyes half-closed. Lira was busy sharpening her blade, and Troady traced idle lines in the dirt.
It was peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
Troady finally asked, "What happens now?"
Amylo opened one eye. "Now? You keep running toward answers, and I… follow orders I don't believe in."
Troady frowned. "You're going back to them, aren't you?"
Amylo's expression didn't change. "They'll find me either way. Better they think I'm still theirs."
Lira's head shot up. "You can't—"
He raised a hand. "It's fine. If I stay with you, they'll hunt all of us. If I go back, I can delay them. Feed them false leads. Buy you time."
Troady stared at him. "That's suicide."
Amylo met his gaze calmly. "Maybe. But I owe you that much."
Silence fell, heavy and sharp.
Finally, Troady spoke, voice low. "You saved me once. You don't owe me anything."
Amylo smiled faintly. "Maybe not. But I owe myself the chance to stop running from what I am."
The firelight flickered across his face — not cruel, not cold. Just resolute.
Lira clenched her fists. "You're insane."
Amylo stood, adjusting his burnt cloak. "Takes one to fight gods."
Troady rose too, stepping forward. "If you go back, they'll make you fight me again."
Amylo paused — then turned slightly, the faintest glint of sadness in his eyes. "Then next time, don't hold back."
He started walking, flames briefly licking the ground beneath his feet with every step, leaving glowing trails that faded into the night.
Lira whispered, "He's really going, isn't he?"
Troady watched the silhouette disappear into the horizon. "Yeah. But I think he'll come back."
"On our side?"
Troady's lips curved into a small, almost wistful smile. "Depends which side still believes in hope."
The last ember of their fire popped softly, rising into the dark sky — carried by the wind, like a message without a sender.
Somewhere far ahead, Amylo walked alone under the stars, the sigil of the Council burning faintly on his wrist. He didn't hide it anymore.
He just looked at it, then whispered to the night —
"Next time we meet, Troady… may the fire choose right."
The wind carried his words away, merging them with the soft crackle of distant thunder — a promise, a warning, and a memory all at once.
The storm was gathering again.
And the world, fractured as ever, waited for its next spark.
To Be Continued....
Written By:-Punit Israni
Enhanced By:-Chatgpt