The faint rustle of leaves carried through the morning air, whispering against the cool breeze that swept over the battle-torn clearing. Dew clung to blades of grass like remnants of tears shed by the earth itself. The sun had barely begun to rise, painting soft streaks of gold across the forest's wounded canopy. Amid the silence, two figures sat side by side, wrapped in exhaustion and silence—Arlen and Lira.
The aftermath of their last battle hung heavily around them. The ground bore the scars of unleashed magic: charred soil, frozen patches, and broken trees scattered like fallen soldiers. A faint trace of lightning still danced through the air—Arlen's aura refusing to fully die out, crackling faintly with static energy. Lira, her hair disheveled and armor battered, looked up at the horizon, her amber eyes reflecting both relief and unease.
"You're quiet," she murmured, her voice low but soft enough to break the silence.
Arlen blinked, still half-lost in thought. "Just… thinking," he replied, flexing his fingers. The faint shimmer of blue lightning danced across his knuckles, fading as quickly as it appeared. "It's strange. I can still feel something… heavy inside me. Like I was someone else back there."
Lira turned toward him, her brows furrowing. She wanted to tell him the truth—that when he lost control, when his eyes burned silver and his power reshaped the battlefield, he hadn't just been someone else. He had been something else. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not when he didn't remember. Not when she had promised herself to protect his secret, even from him.
"Maybe it's just the adrenaline," she said, forcing a small smile. "You almost died out there. Anyone would feel… strange after that."
Arlen let out a humorless chuckle. "Almost died. That's starting to sound like a daily routine."
For a moment, Lira just watched him. There was something fragile about him now, a calm that didn't belong to the same man who had once faced monsters without hesitation. Yet there was also strength—a quiet, stubborn light that refused to fade.
"Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly.
He tilted his head. "Regret what?"
"Saving me," she said, her tone almost defensive. "You could've escaped. If you hadn't turned back—"
"I don't regret anything," Arlen interrupted gently. His eyes softened. "If I had to choose again, I'd still protect you."
Lira felt her breath hitch. The faint morning light caught his face then, highlighting the faint scar across his cheek and the silver flecks still shimmering faintly in his irises. Her heart twisted painfully. She remembered those same eyes glowing like molten stars as he stood before the humanoid figure—a vision burned into her memory.
"You always say things like that," she muttered, trying to hide her fluster.
Arlen smirked. "You make it sound like it's a bad thing."
"It is when you say it so casually," she shot back, standing up. "Come on, we should get back to the guild before someone sends a search party."
He nodded, pushing himself up. His body ached—bruises layered over deeper fatigue—but he followed her as they made their way through the forest trail. Birds began to stir, and the smell of fresh rain lingered in the air.
They walked in silence for a while until Lira finally spoke. "You really don't remember anything, do you?"
Arlen glanced at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"During the fight. You passed out for a while, but… before that, something changed. Your power—it wasn't normal. You looked like…" She trailed off, struggling to find the words. "Like a god standing on the edge of the world."
He blinked, half-smiling. "A god, huh? That's new. I wish I could remember what that felt like."
Lira stopped walking. "Don't joke about it," she said sharply. "You scared me, Arlen. You weren't you anymore."
Her voice trembled slightly, and Arlen froze, realizing how deeply it had affected her. He took a hesitant step closer. "Hey… I'm still here. Whatever that was—it's over now."
She looked away, biting her lip. "I know. It's just… I hate how powerless I felt."
He wanted to say something, to comfort her, but the words caught in his throat. So instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder—a silent promise. Lira closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, letting his warmth steady her racing thoughts.
When they reached the edge of the forest, the familiar silhouette of the city came into view. The guild tower stood tall in the distance, its banner fluttering in the wind. Relief flooded through both of them, though neither said it aloud.
As they walked through the gates, the usual bustle of adventurers filled the air. Whispers followed them—some of admiration, others of concern. They were battered, bruised, and clearly exhausted. The mission had taken its toll, and the guild hall seemed to pause as they entered.
"Arlen! Lira!" A familiar voice rang out. Captain Darius, their squad leader, strode over, his stern eyes scanning them. "You look like hell. Report."
Arlen straightened, wincing slightly. "Mission complete, sir. Target neutralized."
Darius crossed his arms. "At what cost?"
Lira stepped forward. "We lost two men to the beast's ambush, but… we made sure their sacrifices weren't in vain."
The captain's eyes softened slightly, though his expression remained hard. "Rest for now. I'll debrief you both tomorrow. And Arlen—try not to destroy half a forest next time."
Arlen gave a weak smile. "No promises."
As Darius walked away, Lira turned to him, amused. "You really can't stop getting scolded."
"Part of my charm," he said lightly.
They made their way to the guild's medical quarters. Once they were finally alone, the tension between them eased slightly. Lira sat by the window, the afternoon sun washing over her, while Arlen leaned against the wall, deep in thought.
"Hey," she said quietly after a while. "Do you ever think about what's next?"
He looked at her, puzzled. "Next?"
"After all this. The missions. The fighting. Do you ever think about what you'd want if you could stop?"
Arlen paused. The question lingered in the air like smoke. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "I've spent so long trying to survive that I never really thought about what comes after."
Lira smiled faintly. "Maybe you should."
He studied her for a moment, her golden hair glowing softly in the light. "What about you? What would you want?"
She looked out the window, thoughtful. "Peace," she said. "A place where I don't have to draw my sword to feel safe."
Arlen's gaze softened. "That sounds nice."
They sat there for a long time, silence settling between them again—but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was peaceful, almost fragile. The storm had passed, and for once, they were allowed to simply be.
As the day faded into evening, Lira's head slowly tilted until it rested against Arlen's shoulder. He froze, startled, but didn't move. Her breathing steadied, her exhaustion finally claiming her.
He looked down at her—this woman who had fought beside him, bled for him, and still stayed despite the danger. His heart ached in a way he couldn't name. He didn't understand it yet, but it was there—quiet, steady, and real.
"Thank you," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "For everything."
She murmured something in her sleep, a faint smile touching her lips.
Arlen leaned back, closing his eyes. Somewhere deep within, beneath the cracks of his fractured memory, a faint voice stirred—a whisper of power long forgotten. You're not done yet.
His eyes snapped open, the faint echo of lightning flickering across his vision for an instant before fading into nothing. He exhaled, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"Guess rest will have to wait."
Outside, the wind shifted. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled—not loud, but enough to make the world seem like it was holding its breath once more. And though he didn't know what lay ahead, Arlen Frost knew one thing for certain:
This peace wouldn't last forever.
But for now, that was fine.
For now, he would rest.
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