The night split open with a sound as if the sky itself was tearing apart. From within the heart of the town rose a pillar of flames—no, a living, breathing, calamity—writhing skyward like a vengeful god had driven a spear of fire into the earth.
The wind howled and groaned around it, feeding its hunger, and the blaze twisted into itself, a colossal tornado burning gold and blood-red.
Roofs turned to slag and timber wailed as it split and curled inward, devoured by the heat so fierce that rain turned to steam before it touched the ground. Through the choking smoke, silhouettes of houses—and people—buckled and vanished, consumed in the cyclone that towered higher than anything on the horizon.
It was not the light of a mortal fire. The flames pulsed as if they were alive. Breathing, whispering—mocking the prayers of those who watched with bated breath as the heat encroached on them.
By dawn, there would be nothing left but ash. Yet, for that night, it seemed to those subject to the foul spell that the heavens burned like hell itself had clawed its way to the surface, with the town as its offering.
But it wasn't of the divine nature at all. No, it was the whim of a man. A powerful type of man. A wizard.
Alwyn sat up in frustration. "Damn it... I can't sleep." He looked over to Linnie, who was sprawled out across the ground, drooling in sleep. "It's only been a week since then. Is he really okay? This is why I can't stand kids... impossible to figure out."
The wizard had found himself in the midst of anxiety and a misunderstanding. It's not like anyone could blame him, though. See, he was so sure that Linnie was repressing his true feelings of grief, but he didn't know what to do about it.
Of course, there was nothing to be done. Creatures like Linnie don't feel grief. Not for things outside of his own control. The boy simply accepted it as it was.
Everyone he knew was gone. It wasn't like it was the first time it had happened. In fact, in Linnie's eyes, the pros of the events that transpired then much outweighed the cons.
If you asked him prior to that week, "would you let everyone you know die in order to gain an opportunity such as this?" he would most definitely... think about it.
Alwyn, on the other hand, was an 'experienced' wizard. He was still young, much younger than the famous pillars of his field, but he was by no means a novice anymore. He was a wizard who had already graduated from the tower.
Not in the literal sense, since he received no diploma, but in that he had no reason to stay. The young wizard had consumed everything the tower had to offer.
Though he wasn't as famous as those aforementioned pillars, he was already known as perhaps the most promising upstart in generations. That was no lie.
But there was one thing that held him back...
"Bastards... making me do their dirty work. I didn't plan to torch the entire town, but how could I pass up on this opportunity!? My very own, super-gifted apprentice! This must've been what teacher felt when he found me. Damn it, he'd understand, wouldn't he? Well, he wouldn't have any qualms about reducing an entire town to ash anyways."
It may be that what Linnie needed most was a strong-moraled, experienced, and hardy teacher. Unfortunately for him, and perhaps the world, too, that is not what he got.
Alwyn cared little for the many lives he had ended in that moment. They were only a drop in an ocean of what he'd already done and was sure to do. It was...
"My reputation...! I'm ruined if this gets out! Shitty top-secret assignment's got me killing so many people, they'll think I'm a psychopath or something! The common people, that is..."
He cared very much—too much—of what the common people saw of him. Yes, the common people. Alwyn cared little—maybe too little—of what his peers thought of him. No, he'd destroyed or would soon destroy them all, so what do their opinions matter? That's how he saw it, anyway.
It was the common people... they were the ones who wrote and spread the fables. He wanted one thing oh so badly: to be known as the greatest wizard to ever live. In that sense, Linnie and Alwyn seemed to be very similar.
"Wake up. Hey, wake up! Hey! Wake! Up!" Alwyn started to shout and kick at the boy, deep asleep. "Wow you're a deep sleeper... is it because you can't feel pain, so my kicking doesn't hurt? How about this, then? Hehe..."
Alwyn conjured a ball of water over Linnie's head and let it fall, soaking the boy.
"Bleh! What—hey! What was that for!?" he barked, jumping up at him.
"It's not my fault you wouldn't wake up," Alwyn shrugged, grinning smugly. "Get ready, we're only a day from our destination."
"Corvailles was that close...? I didn't know such a big city was only a week from town. What've I been rotting out here all this time for, then..."
"Obviously not, dumb orphan idiot bastard," he laughed. "It's just a small city we're stopping by to grab some things."
"Does he like—damn, that was so uncalled for... I don't even know what to say... why did he even say that? I can't even get mad... hell I can't!"
"DIE!"
Linnie was spun around and thrown into a tree.
They continued on their journey, with occasional arguments and beatdowns. Neither was all too good at human-to-human communication, at least on a serious level, so it seemed like the only way they'd bond would be through physical... love.
That sounds strange, phrased like that, doesn't it? Of course, I mean punching. And kicking.
"Is that it?" Linnie asked as they broke through the trees, revealing large city gates.
"It is..."