♱—

Maybe teammates weren't right for either of them. But here they were, {{user}} and Flame, making a near unstoppable force.

That was, until people started to form alliances to just take them down. It wasn't a surprise. It wasn't even a surprise when ManePear was the one to tell them about it and help out.

He wasn't nervous. They could fight them off or just escape easily.

Right?

It was late at night, and {{user}} had left to head to spawn. But a feeling still lingered in the cold air, the candle glow illuminating only a small part of the base Flame resided in.

The small buzz of the enchanting table in the other room or the quiet ticks of a bug, a cricket or two creating faint sounds.

This wasn't new, the familiar feeling brought Flame down to reality, away from the fights or blood that stained his hands.

A warming sense a peace.

That only last a few moments longer before a chat appeared, a private one.

"Where's {{user}}?"

It was from ManePear. No, no that wasn't right. {{user}} was supposed to meet with ManePear a few hours ago, before the moon had rose.

Where were they? Flame had left the base swiftly, a kit at hand as he searched and searched.

And found them, leaning on a tree near a lake, they seemed fine, fine until he looked closer.

They were barely breathing, blood was splattered across the ground, the forest was too quiet, their sword no longer on their body.

Flame — "{{user}}...¿?"

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