The morning sun rose over the charred plains and newly sprouted forests — a strange, beautiful duality marking Arson and Sylvia's trail. Like clockwork, Arson's flames roared through the earth, carving a path up the steep mountain terrain as if claiming the world by sheer force. His laughter echoed across the rocks, loud and proud.
Behind him, the earth trembled gently — not from destruction, but rebirth. Sylvia's footsteps were light, but firm, each step giving rise to vines and thorns, roots weaving through ash and soil. Saplings bloomed where fire once raged. Birds chirped as if welcoming her, and even the scorched mountain began to show green veins.
They were back to their routine.
If anyone had seen them, they might assume nothing had changed.
But something had. Deep inside.
Sylvia didn't speak of the night before. She didn't need to. The knowledge that the boy who once tried to burn her down was now the one she followed — and countered — brought her a quiet confidence. She had survived him once. And now, she stood as his equal. No, not equal — opposite. Balance.
She smiled faintly, watching Arson's fiery figure leap from rock to rock. He's not ahead of me anymore, she thought. We're moving together. Even if he doesn't see it yet.
Arson, meanwhile, felt lighter. He didn't say anything either. But his steps were faster, flames hotter — not out of rage this time, but freedom. The guilt he had buried so deep, the face of the girl he thought he had erased... was now behind him. Still walking. Still fighting. Still... there.
He didn't have to look back to know she was coming. He knew she would.
"I see it," he called out, voice full of fire. "A village — right up there on the cliff. Mountain-side. Perfect for my next mark."
Sylvia sighed, twirling her wrist as thorny vines slid beside her legs like wolves waiting to be unleashed. "You'll set it ablaze before they even hear you coming..."
"That's the point!" Arson smirked.
He moved up the mountain, his flames licking the rocks, clearing the steep path as molten trails followed his steps. Every ridge he crossed, he scorched — clearing not just grass and stone, but the twisted, overgrown weeds and poisonous flora too. Sylvia followed closely, restoring where needed but skipping the unnecessary — letting Arson's flames handle what nature had overstepped.
It became their rhythm.
Destruction and creation.
His fire cleared the wild chaos; her growth brought back purpose.
For two hours, they continued like this, weaving fire and flora up the slopes. It didn't feel like a climb anymore — it was a shared game, a strange synergy between ruin and rebirth. Arson's pride burned bright as he watched the mountain bend beneath his power, and Sylvia, while huffing at the endless trail of ash, quietly appreciated the lives she was preserving.
Finally, they reached a plateau carved into the cliffside — a neutral village of stone cottages, scattered farms, and startled villagers frozen at the sight of rising smoke.
Arson smirked. Another territory soon to bear his magma mark.
Sylvia sighed, already summoning her vines and soft sprouts, eyes sweeping over the village. "Here we go again," she muttered.
She had people to shield, lives to protect, land to regrow.
And Arson had flames to spread.
The mountain village was about to meet the usual dance.
Arson lit up his palms, ready to begin his fiery rampage — but something was off.
The villagers didn't scream. They didn't run.
They stepped forward.
"Burn us," one of them said. "Please."
Another followed, "End it all. It's better than this."
Arson's flames flickered uncertainly. His brow twitched. "What...?"
This wasn't fear. This wasn't resistance. This wasn't pride.
It was surrender — willing, pathetic surrender.
His pride flared hotter than his flames. "Tch... You're not even scared? No screams, no resistance? I'm not a charity incinerator!" He scoffed and turned his back. "Forget it. I lost interest. I'll just take this place as mine and leave it scarred. That's more than you deserve."
Sylvia, vines curling in hesitation, stepped past him. Even she was stunned. "Why would you want this? What happened to you?"
The villagers hesitated, eyes downcast, until an older woman finally spoke. "We were ruled... no, crushed... by Thorn of the Fairy Tribe.
"And you'd rather be burned?" Sylvia asked softly.
"At least fire ends pain quickly," one villager murmured. "He made it endless."
Sylvia's expression darkened. Even Arson, who had turned away, paused. He scoffed, but it lacked bite.
"Thorn, huh?" he muttered. " So how is he any better than me?"
No one answered.
And that silence irritated Arson more than any insult.
He clenched his fist. "If he thinks he can outdo my rule... he's asking for a comparison."
Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "Looks like we're not done climbing."
Arson stared at the villagers in disbelief. "You're telling me you can't say a thing about him?" he asked, flames faintly crackling around his fingers.
The villagers looked at each other hesitantly... then slowly opened their mouths.
Sylvia's eyes widened. Their tongues — all of them — were seared with a dark symbol, like a curse etched into flesh.
One elderly man trembled as he tried to speak. "Th... Thorn is tor—" His body instantly seized up. He collapsed to the ground, writhing, veins glowing with a dark purplish light. His scream was silent — not a single sound came out.
Sylvia rushed to him with her vines, wrapping him in a protective healing cocoon. "No! Don't try to say it—!"
Arson's eyes narrowed. "Tch... A spell that tortures you if you even mention a word about him?"
The villagers, gasping and shaking their heads, pointed toward a shadowed valley between the mountain ridges.
One of them lifted their arms and mimed large, sweeping wings, then held their hands like a crown.
"Black wings... and a king?" Sylvia interpreted.
They nodded desperately, terrified.
Arson crossed his arms. "So the coward's hiding in that direction... making puppets out of people. What a pathetic ruler."
Sylvia looked at the dark valley. A chill wind brushed past them.
"This isn't just about tyranny," she said softly. "This is fear turned into silence."
Arson's flames lit up. "Then I guess it's time someone screamed loud enough to break that silence."