Jasmine groaned as consciousness crept back into her skull like an unwelcome intruder. Her head pounded, deep and rhythmic, like someone had hammered a drum into her brain and left it playing. The pain made her squint, eyes catching the pale gold of morning light slanting through the trees. She blinked against it, disoriented.
Something cold and wet pressed into her palm.
She shifted her hand and felt the slick pull of mud, clinging to her skin like a second layer. The roots beneath her were gnarled and knotted, jutting out from the ground like crooked bones. That's when it hit her they were still in the forest. And last night's event played in her head.
Her body jolted upright in a sudden panic, but the motion sent a spear of pain shooting through her head.
"Ughh—damn it," she hissed, clamping her hand over her forehead. The world tilted sideways.
"Easy there..." a voice said, calm but edged with dry amusement. "We don't want you passing out on us again."
Her eyes flicked toward the sound.
He was there, sitting cross-legged near what looked like the charred remains of a campfire. His fingers absently stirred the ashes with a stick, his other hand resting on his knee. Even without looking directly at her, there was something about the way he spoke, low, almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world that made her pulse react in ways she didn't like admitting.
She would've cursed, but her throat was dry and scratchy.
"Jasmine!" a voice cried, and suddenly someone was kneeling beside her, fingers touched her shoulder, gently but trembling.
Her gaze snapped toward the blur, then sharpened.
"Adriana?" Her voice cracked as she said it.
Adriana nodded, setting a half-full water pouch down beside her and brushing strands of hair from Jasmine's face. Her eyes were wide and anxious, lips parted like she wasn't sure whether to cry or scold.
"You are awake." Jasmine pulled her into a hug, glad she was fine.
Jasmine took a shaky breath, letting it fill her sore lungs. Her eyes jumped between her best friend's face and the unfamiliar lines of the forest around them. Trees stretched endlessly above. The smell of smoke and damp moss filled her nose. Everything foreign.
"What... what happened?" Her voice came out hoarse.
Her said Savior let out a short, sharp breath—almost a laugh, but not quite. "Long story...," he muttered, stabbing the ash again with the stick.
"Cut it short_," she snapped, wincing. "You always have to drag things out, don't you?"
If you'd like it even sharper or laced with sarcasm, here's a spicier version:
"God—cut it short, will you?" she muttered through clenched teeth. "You act like we've got all day for your little dramatic monologues."
"...But it ends with you face-first in the mud, twitching like someone yanked your soul out mid-sentence."
Jasmine pressed her hand harder against her head, trying to anchor herself, to piece together the fragments swimming behind her eyes. She could feel her heartbeat in her gums. Everything felt bruised. Her limbs were sore. Her back ached.
She met Adriana's eyes again. "We survived" Adriana nodded.
"Well, this is where I guess we say goodbye. Adiós, ladies," Draven announced, already on his feet.
Jasmine blinked. What?
Her heart skipped, then kicked hard. Before her mind fully caught up, her body had already moved, legs pushing her upright with a burst of adrenaline that stabbed into her skull like a hot blade. She swayed for a second, hand shooting out to brace against a nearby tree.
"Wait! What?" she snapped, voice cracking as she fought the nausea clawing at the back of her throat. "You can't just leave—what about us?"
Draven didn't even pause. He glanced back over his shoulder with that same insufferable smirk.
"Of course I can," he said, as if explaining the obvious to a child. "I don't own a harem, Missy."
Jasmine's teeth clenched so hard her jaw popped.
"My name is Jasmine," she spat. "Not Missy."
The wind stirred her hair, but her blood was already boiling. She took a step forward, legs trembling beneath her but firm enough to hold her weight.
"And what happens to me?" she threw at him, her voice rising with each word, no longer just angry—frantic now, confused and spiraling. "You told me I consumed a Death Flame or whatever the hell that means! And after everything that happened last night you can just strut off like none of it matters?"
Her fingers curled into fists. Her voice cracked again, it was sharp and desperate.
"Your kind did something to me. Don't pretend you don't know what."
Draven finally turned, slowly, like her words were some trivial amusement. His eyes met hers, unreadable and half bemused, half... something colder.
Adriana stood silently beside the remnants of the fire, her hands clasped around her elbows, brows furrowed. She glanced between them, clearly uncertain whether to speak or stay silent. She chose the latter, her confusion thick enough to taste.
But Jasmine didn't look away, her chest heaved. Her voice was ragged.
"I want the truth. Not your clever little jabs. Not your games. Just... the damn truth."
"Even I'm curious what you are," Draven drawled, waving a lazy hand in her direction like she was some unsolved riddle that barely amused him. "You should've been raging mad with death-flames by now. But no." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in fake contemplation. "You're just... fine. Isn't that just a little concerning?"
He scoffed lightly, shifting on his feet with the grace of someone far too proud of their own posture.
"But let's make one thing clear," he added, voice dipping into mock severity. "I am not curious. And I am most definitely not hauling the both of you around like I'm some lovesick harem lord."
He flicked a bit of ash off his coat and gave a wicked grin.
"That's bad for my image."
Liliana had never felt more insulted in her life.
She stood at the edge of the scorched training ground, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes narrowed on the pitiful display in front of her. A handful of teenage initiates flailed around the Flame Master, failing to land a single hit. It was pathetic. Embarrassing, really. And worse, it was beginning to grate on her nerves.
They weren't even close in strength. And the Flame Master wasn't even trying. He moved like fire itself, untouchable and fluid, impossible to pin down.
But Liliana didn't flinch. She didn't sigh or scoff, though the urge curled at the back of her throat. Instead, she watched with a cool expression, her jaw clenched, her body still.
Her fingers curled into a tight fist.
The anger beneath her skin shimmered hot and alive, but it wasn't born of fear. No, it was pride. It was the frustration of someone who knew she was better. Who had already passed this phase, who had outgrown this match months ago, and yet was still being forced to prove herself.
Again.
Why can't I beat him? she seethed silently. I've done everything right. Trained harder. Fought smarter. For flame's sake I'm not a child anymore.
She pulsed her lips in a tight, annoyed line. Every breath she took was too hot, too tight in her chest. The energy around the dueling ring felt suffocating—not because of fear, but because she didn't belong on the sidelines.
She stepped forward.
The ground cracked faintly beneath her heel as she moved, fire licking at her skin in response to her building rage. The moment she crossed the faded white line of the circle, the chatter around them fell quiet.
The Flame Master stilled.
He turned toward her, flame curling lazily around his wrist, his expression unreadable. Calm and arrogant in its own right.
This duel wasn't for show. It was tradition. A brutal rite of passage where only the capable and the exceptional earned the right to leave their realm and face the outside world. A world full of hidden realms, of enemies who burned cities for sport and declare war on the weak.
And Scorial Vale?
Scorial Vale didn't send out weaklings. They forged monsters in fire and sent them to conquer.
Liliana raised her chin, eyes flashing.
The Flame Master straightened, tilting his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint amusement.
"You again?" he said, voice light and infuriatingly calm. "Didn't think you'd come back so soon."
Liliana's lip curled in a slow smirk. "Didn't think you'd still be wasting your time with amateurs."
A ripple of laughter whispered through the crowd, but she didn't look away. Her eyes locked onto him, unblinking, daring.
"Cute warm-up," she added, rolling her shoulders back as faint embers crackled at her fingertips. "But it's time someone gave you a real match."
Flames licked up her arms, obeying her without hesitation. Her stance shifted feet braced, hips square and eyes sharp. She could feel the weight of the circle beneath her, the heat of every gaze, but none of it mattered. There was only her.
The Flame Master exhaled slowly, amused. "Still so sure of yourself, Liliana?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, Master." She stepped closer, fire circling her like a crown. "I'm inevitable."
With a snap of her fingers, a jet of flame roared forward.
He dodged barely and the heat seared past him, splitting the air with a crack. She followed instantly, a blur of motion and flame. Her fist surged with heat as she aimed for his ribs. He deflected with his forearm, spinning to counter, but she ducked low, leg sweeping wide.
He jumped.
Smart.
But not fast enough.
Liliana twisted, pushing off the ground, her flame-wreathed palm aimed for his chest. "Still dancing?" she taunted, her breath coming quick, voice fierce. "Come on show me that fire you're always bragging about!"
His hand caught her wrist mid-strike, and for a brief second, their flames collided a rush of heat, power meeting power. But hers burned hotter.
She grinned through clenched teeth. "What's the matter, Master? Feeling the heat?"
He shoved her back, but she landed light, feet skidding through ash, her hair wild and eyes alight.
The crowd was dead silent.
She could feel their tension and disbelief. But she didn't need their awe.
"You want to send us outside the realm?" Liliana shouted, standing tall in the center of the dueling ring, flames crackling down her arms like armor. "Then stop holding back and fight me like I'm already there."
The Flame Master's smile vanished.For a heartbeat, all was still.
Then he moved.
Not fast beyond fast. Like wind through fire. One moment he stood still, and in the next, his flame roared to life and the space between them vanished.
Liliana barely had time to react. Her body lunged on instinct, arms crossing to block but the blow didn't come from the front.
It came from above.
His boot connected with her shoulder in a spinning arc, and her world flipped. Literally. The sky whirled above her as she crashed onto her back, hard. Air whooshed from her lungs in a ragged grunt. Her flames flickered, sputtering as her focus cracked.
She rolled, gasping while scrambling to her feet very slowly.
A wall of heat slammed toward her.
She raised both hands, gritting her teeth, flame spiraling outward in an unpolished shield.
It held barely.
But then he was inside it.
His flame folded around hers like a vice, snuffing it out. She saw it in his eyes as he moved calmly and calculating, and utterly in control.
He swept low, and her legs were gone.
She hit the ground a second time, this time with a bark of pain, the wind gone from her body, her pride splintering as the heat smothered her completely. Ash flew into her mouth as she gasped, coughing, face pressed into the scorched earth.
Someone called her name, she didn't hear it. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears. The dull thud of humiliation pounding alongside her heartbeat.
She tried to rise her hands pushing against the dust but he was already standing above her.
The Flame Master's voice cut through the silence. Steady. Cold.
"Out there, Liliana, fire alone isn't enough. Control matters more than heat."
She looked up at him, face smeared with ash, she was breathing hard. Her limbs trembled but not from fear, but from rage. And somewhere beneath it.
The Flame master offered her a hand. She stared at it like it insulted her.
The crowd was still quiet, as few heads turned as they whispers.
Liliana rose on her own. She didn't meet his eyes, not when the sting was still fresh and she felt utterly humiliated. Not when every muscle in her body screamed... and not a single one of them hurt more than her pride.
She walked away from the arena