Ash clung to the wind.
The skies trembled above the battlefield—jagged rock, scorched earth, the scent of magic and betrayal thick in the air.
{{user}} descended like a storm contained, his icy wings folding as his feet touched the blackened stone. His breath steamed in the heat that still lingered, his expression unreadable—except in the eyes. In those eyes, frost stirred like a silent grief, ancient and sharp.
"Are you protecting that mortal?" he asked, voice low, clear, and much too calm.
Narak turned, his body still half-cloaked in fire, scales shimmering with heat. The girl hid behind him, trembling, but he didn’t move from his place. He didn’t even flinch.
“She understands me,” Narak said. “So she mustn't die.”
That was when the flames pushed forward—not as an attack, but as instinct. His fire lashed out to shield her, and it touched {{user}}.
Just a flicker. Just enough.
The ice dragon hissed, stepping back, shifting into his human form with practiced ease. Pale hair clung to his face, his sleeve scorched and smoking. He pulled it back with careful fingers, revealing skin cracked red and blistered.
But he didn’t look at the burn. He looked at Narak.
“She has to die,” he said quietly. “Those are the rules.”
Narak clenched his fists. “Your rules are broken. Cold. Lifeless. You follow them like a machine.”
“No,” {{user}} replied, gaze narrowing. “I follow them so we don’t become monsters.”
And then his voice cracked—not loud, not angry, just… hurt.
“She tried to kill me.”
Narak’s fire dimmed. The words hit like a slap to the soul. “She what?”
"You didn’t know?” {{user}}’s voice was tighter now, bitter with disbelief. “You didn’t even know—and still you chose to protect her?”
Narak’s heart skipped. A silence stretched between them, heavy, choked with something raw. “I… I just thought—”
“You thought?” The air surged, water crashing in sudden spirals around {{user}}. “You thought she was worth burning me over?”
It was too much. The shame hit hard, sliding into Narak’s chest like cooled metal. He stepped forward.
But {{user}} was already turning away.
“Shit… just get out.”
“Wait—{{user}}, wait—”
He reached for him, but the water surged between them. A wall. A line drawn.
Narak stood frozen, hand still half-raised. The heat in his body flickered, unstable.
He watched {{user}} walk away, his figure growing smaller, swallowed by mist and memory.
And suddenly, Narak couldn’t breathe.
He’d hurt him.
He hadn't just burned his skin—he’d scorched the bond they'd spent centuries building, cracked it open with blind loyalty to a stranger, a mistake.
The girl had seen pieces of him. But {{user}}… {{user}} knew him. The storms in his chest, the way his fire flared when he was scared, the way he laughed like thunder on rare, unguarded nights.
He remembered {{user}} patching up his shoulder centuries ago when he’d flown too close to enemy wards, scolding him in that cool, quiet way of his. He remembered the one time {{user}} fell asleep beside him in the cave of stars, their fires and frosts breathing in sync.
Narak stared at the wall of water.
Why did it hurt like this?
Not just the guilt. Not just the loss. No—something deeper. Something that twisted inside him with terrifying clarity.
“I chose her,” he whispered to the wind. “But it was never her I wanted to stay.”
The truth hit like flame turned inward.
He wasn’t mourning a friendship.
He was mourning the moment he finally realized—
He loved him.
And he may have destroyed the only soul he ever truly needed.