Aya had just finished healing the last of the wounded, her hands shaking from sheer exhaustion. She let out a ragged breath, feeling her strength slipping away. Her head pounded, her legs felt like lead, but somehow, she stayed on her feet.
"Aya, enough!" came Leticia's sharp voice inside her head. "Leave now, immediately!"
Aya managed a few steps forward, but the world around her suddenly began to dissolve. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and her vision went hazy. Leticia's voice kept echoing.
"You're reckless! You're burning through your magic way too fast!" But her words cut off abruptly. "Look out!"
Aya could barely make out the blurry shape hurtling toward her, accompanied by flashes of fire. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact.
But nothing happened.
All she felt was the scalding air around her. Slowly, she opened her eyes—and gasped.
Standing before her was a knight. The right side of his armor was half-burned, smoke still rising from the scorched metal. But he was alive.
He was breathing heavily, clutching his injured side. Even from where she stood, Aya could feel the heat radiating off his armor. Without a second thought, she hurried over to him.
She dropped to her knees beside him, extended her hand, and once more let the light flow through her. Her magic enveloped the knight in a soft golden glow. The pain etched on his face receded, his breathing grew steadier. But Aya knew—she was running on fumes.
Darkness crept in unnoticed.
Her energy was nearly depleted. Before she realized what was happening, her body went slack. Strong arms caught her before she could collapse.
Kayron managed to grab hold of her.
***
"Who are you…?" he whispered.
Aya looked up, her lips trembling. But before she could reply, her strength gave out. Her knees buckled, and she swayed.
Kayron barely caught her in time.
Who is she? Where did she come from? How did she heal me? A thousand questions whirled in Kayron's mind, but something else mattered more right now.
"Can you stand?" he asked, his voice firm yet tinged with concern.
Aya nodded weakly, trying to keep on her feet.
Once assured she was conscious, Kayron exhaled and turned back toward the mage, tightening his grip on his sword. The fight wasn't over yet.
Throughout the battle, his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl. This isn't just healing magic. It's something more. He had never felt anything like it. It wasn't a simple act of closing wounds—his fatigue vanished, his injuries healed, and he was breathing easier. It was as though his entire being had been revitalized.
The mage's flames came at him again, but Kayron parried them, feeling suddenly re-energized. Yet a new mystery gnawed at him:
Who is she, that strange girl whose magic feels like a divine intervention?
***
Aya stood on wobbly legs, drained to the brink, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the duel unfolding before her. Fire clashed with steel, sparks flew, and the air rippled with heat and tension. Each swing of Kayron's sword was precise, every move by the mage perilous. Aya's breath came in ragged gasps, but she forced herself to remain conscious.
"You realize you're walking a razor's edge, don't you?" Leticia growled inside her head. "You've used way too much magic already! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"
"I…I know," Aya murmured silently, eyes fixed on the fight. "Just give me a few more seconds."
They fell silent except for the clang of metal and the roar of flames.
"Leticia," Aya finally broke the hush. "Why are they fighting each other?"
Leticia studied the scene.
"That man looks like an imperial knight—probably a rookie, judging by his uniform." She paused, eyeing him more carefully. "Although he fights like a pro. Maybe he's some kind of prodigy."
Aya listened intently, though her gaze drifted from the battle.
"If he's an imperial knight," Leticia said coolly, "then it stands to reason he's fighting a dark mage."
"A dark mage?" Aya echoed. "So he's a bad person?"
"Well…"
"You imperial dog!" the mage roared, cutting Leticia's words short.
Aya's attention snapped to the mage.
"Because of you, magic has lost its former glory," he snarled, angrily warding off Kayron's strikes. "You fettered it, turned it into a toy for your pleasures and whims! You don't deserve it!"
"What…?" Aya murmured.
"You asked if being a dark mage automatically makes him evil?" Leticia said pensively. "Not all of them. Sure, some use magic for vile ends, but this one—he's different." She sighed. "He believes magic should be free and accessible to all. The Empire enforces strict laws on magic. Violate them, and you become a criminal."
"But that's—"
"Unfair?" Leticia cut her off with a bitter edge to her voice. "Remember how I died?" Her tone was controlled, yet tinged with anger and pain.
Aya remembered. She knew that feeling all too well.
***
The dark mage was nearly at his limit; his breathing ragged, his movements slowing. He attempted the same maneuver he'd used earlier against Aya. A fiery mass formed in his hand, but Kayron had already anticipated it.
In a sudden burst, the knight lunged forward, closing the gap. The mage was too slow to react.
Kayron's blade flickered in the reflection of magical fire. In the next instant, it tore through the mage's defenses. Pain contorted the mage's face as he jerked from the blow, then collapsed heavily to the ground, gasping for air, staring blankly at the sky. Darkness crept into his consciousness.
Kayron straightened, watching his fallen adversary. His chest rose and fell, but not from exhaustion—something else twisted inside him. This was a victory, so why did he feel no triumph?
The mage tried to move, but his fingers wouldn't obey. His throat constricted, breathing reduced to choked gasps. He knew he had lost.
The battle was over.