Chapter 8: Embers of Trust
The air was crisp that morning.
Birdsong echoed faintly through the trees as Aizen and Lyra followed a narrow path winding between mossy rocks and tall oaks. The world seemed peaceful—for once. No storms. No blood. Just the rhythm of two sets of footsteps, side by side.
They had no destination yet. Just a direction. East, toward the rising sun. Toward rumors of cities that still held secrets… and people who might one day become allies.
> "Feels weird, doesn't it?" Lyra asked quietly.
Aizen looked over.
> "What does?"
> "Walking without someone trying to kill us."
He gave a tired smirk. "Don't jinx it."
They shared a laugh—a rare thing.
For the first time in days, the silence between them wasn't full of tension. It felt... lighter. Like something between them had started to shift. Trust. Maybe even friendship.
But peace never lasted long in a world like theirs.
By noon, the trees began to thin, revealing an open stretch of road carved between rocky cliffs. That's when they saw them.
A group of travelers?
No.
Bandits.
Half-human, half-beast. Some with scars, others wearing mismatched armor. They lounged lazily near the cliff walls—but the second they spotted Lyra's golden ornaments and Aizen's strange eyes, their mood changed.
> "Oi!" one of them barked, stepping forward. A hyena-like beastman with matted fur and jagged teeth. "Pretty travelers like you shouldn't be walkin' alone. This here's toll territory."
Lyra's hand drifted toward her dagger.
Aizen didn't stop walking. "We're not in the mood."
> "I know that voice," the beastman growled, eyes narrowing. "Wait… you're that lion runt from the wanted boards. Black mane. Yellow eyes. Heh… you're one of those extinct mutts!"
The other bandits laughed.
> "Didn't know corpses could walk!"
> "Hey Lion-boy! Where's your pack? Oh right—dead."
Aizen stopped.
The wind shifted.
Lyra's eyes darted to him—and saw his fists clenching.
> "Back off," she warned the bandits. "You don't know what you're—"
> "Let him get mad," the hyena man sneered. "Let's see what kind of king he is without a kingdom."
That was the final spark.
Lightning flared across Aizen's arms.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
> CRACK!
A surge of thunder slammed into the ground, sending three bandits flying before they could even scream. The leader turned—but a fist of lightning crashed into his gut, lifting him off the ground.
Lyra leapt into motion. Two bandits tried to run—she flung a storm of burning knives from her palm, each glowing with runes. One fell, gasping. The other collapsed with his legs frozen solid.
> "You want to mock me?" Aizen roared, standing among the crackling ruins. "You think I'm weak because I survived?!"
He raised his hands—and lightning fell like divine judgment, turning the remaining enemies into nothing but scorched shadows.
Then silence.
Only the breeze dared move.
Ash floated lazily around them.
> "They were nothing," Aizen muttered, his eyes still glowing faintly.
Lyra approached slowly, looking at him—not afraid, but… amazed.
> "You're getting stronger," she said.
> "I have to."
That night, they camped in the woods—deep within a grove of whispering pines, far from the road. A soft fire glowed beside them, warming the earth. Aizen's back leaned against a tree, still aching, his storm slowly calming.
Lyra sat beside him, silent for a long time.
> "I can't sleep," she said finally. "Mind if I stay close?"
Aizen blinked, then gave a nod. "It's cold anyway."
She curled up beside him—closer than usual.
Their shoulders touched. Then their hands.
Aizen froze a little, heart racing.
> "You're warm," she whispered.
> "I… guess I am."
She looked up at him—her violet eyes shining softly in the firelight.
For a moment, they just looked. No words. Just silence. Breath. Heartbeats.
> "I'm glad I found you," she said.
He smiled faintly. "I thought you hated me."
> "I don't know what I feel. But… I know it's not hate."
She rested her head gently on his chest.
> "Let's just stay like this tonight. No questions."
Aizen nodded, unsure if the heat rising in his face was from the fire or something else.
The wind howled outside the grove, but inside their little world, everything was warm.
Everything was still.
---
One Year Later
Aizen was taller now. Stronger. His shoulders broader, his lightning sharper.
Lyra had changed too. Her magic was more refined. Her presence more commanding.
They had crossed forests, deserts, ruins, and empires. Each night they survived made them something more than allies. More than just two runaways.
Now, they stood at the edge of another town—a quiet market village near the southern rivers.
And that's when they saw it.
A group of rough-looking thugs surrounding two small children—one with silver wings, the other with crimson horns. Both couldn't have been older than seven. Their robes were too clean, their eyes too kind.
The bandits saw wealth.
Aizen and Lyra saw innocence.
> "You brats got gold, huh?" one man sneered, grabbing the winged child by the arm. "Let's see what heaven pays for."
The boy cried out. The little demon girl tried to throw a weak fireball, but it fizzled.
> "Stop!" she screamed.
But the bandits just laughed—until a flash of blue light knocked one clean into the air.
> "Touch them again," Aizen growled, stepping into view, "and I'll bury you."
> "Who the hell—"
> FWOOM.
A wave of fire and ice swept through the street. Lyra stood behind him, both hands glowing.
> "You made a mistake."
The bandits didn't even have time to scream before the storm descended.
Aizen shielded the children with his body as magic ripped through the thugs. The girl clung to his leg. The boy trembled but looked up at him—eyes wide with awe.
> "Are you… a god?" the boy whispered.
Aizen knelt slowly, smiling.
> "No. Just someone who hates bullies."
Lyra stepped beside him. "We should take them with us. At least for now."
He nodded. "We're not alone anymore."
The road ahead was still long.
But for the first time, they had others to walk it with.
---
End of Chapter 8