The silence that followed Caelum’s departure was heavy. Dust and embers lingered in the air, remnants of the battle that had just taken place. Lucielle and Varithra lay on the cold, scorched ground of Abyssia, their wounds already closing as their bodies mended themselves.

  Lucielle slowly pushed herself up, wincing slightly before brushing the dirt from her golden hair. She turned her sharp yellow eyes toward Varithra, who was already on her feet, her violet gaze fixed on the cave’s entrance as if contemplating chasing after their elusive prey. But she didn’t move.

  Instead, Lucielle broke the silence. “The second horn hasn’t sounded yet.” Her voice was steady but laced with tension.

  Varithra responded simply. “Yeah.”

  There was no hesitation after that. Lucielle summoned her Aetherforged sword in an instant, its radiant glow illuminating the dim battlefield. With a swift motion, she lunged at Varithra, blade aimed straight for her chest.

  Varithra reacted just as quickly. She raised her hand, and in a surge of heat, a wall of Entropic Flame erupted between them, forcing Lucielle to halt her attack and adjust her stance. The flickering black fire cast eerie shadows over both warriors, their eyes burning with renewed hostility.

  Neither of them spoke further. They didn’t need to. The moment Caelum left, their temporary truce had ended.

  Lucielle circled around, searching for an opening, while Varithra kept her distance, her fingers curling as she gathered more of her destructive flame. The battle between them was precise and calculated—no reckless swings, no wasted movements.

  Lucielle feinted to the left, forcing Varithra to shift her flames, then darted right, closing the gap. Her sword slashed forward, its blinding edge nearly grazing Varithra’s side. But before it could land, a spiraling tendril of black fire lashed toward Lucielle’s abdomen, aiming to burn through her armor and flesh.

  At that moment, the horn sounded.

  Both women froze.

  The second horn—the signal of the day’s battle coming to an end.

  Lucielle’s blade stopped a hair’s breadth from Varithra’s ribs. Varithra’s Entropic Flame flickered, vanishing before it could sear Lucielle’s armor. No one allows to kill after the second horn, a rule every Luminaran and Nyxaran must follow till their death. A long pause followed as they stared at each other, breathing heavily.

  Lucielle smirked. “Tch. I was a second away from cutting you down.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Varithra crossed her arms, her tone indifferent. “And I was moments from turning you to ash.”

  Lucielle scoffed, flipping her sword before dismissing it back into shimmering light. “Lucky.”

  Varithra did the same, letting the remnants of her magic dissipate. “You as well.”

  No words of respect were exchanged, no gestures of camaraderie. They were not allies—only enemies with a common goal.

  Without another glance at each other, they turned away, stepping in opposite directions. The battle would continue another day.

  The cycle would never end.

  *****

  Caelum wandered through the desolate landscape of Abyssia, his steps slow but purposeful. He needed to find a new shelter before nightfall, somewhere to rest before the next inevitable battle. The sooner he could settle, the faster he could hunt for food and, if he was lucky, sleep before dawn brought another day of suffering.

  His gaze swept over the barren wasteland. Cracked earth stretched for miles, broken only by jagged rock formations and the remains of past conflicts. Abyssia was nothing but ruins and death, a land cursed to serve as a battlefield for two warring sides that could never truly end their conflict.

  His mind drifted as he walked. He had been here for since his birth, and now alone after his parents passing, but even before his birth, Abyssia had been a battleground. No one knew its true origins, nor why it was destined to be the eternal warzone between Luminara and Nyxara. The gods had long since vanished, yet their followers still fought in their name. What was this place before it became what it was? Had it always been a land of ruin, or was there something more hidden beneath its bloodstained surface?

  His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as his eyes caught sight of something in the distance—a structure, half-buried in the lifeless terrain. A ruin.

  His pulse quickened as he adjusted his path, making his way toward it. Shelter, possibly supplies, or at the very least, a place to hide for a while.

  As he stepped into the crumbling remains of the structure, a faint golden glow caught his attention. A boy—no older than twelve—was kneeling on the ground, his hands hovering over a wound on his leg. Tendrils of light wove around the injury, sealing it shut. Vitaweaving, blessing from Solmara, the Dawnmother , which mostly used for healing or vitality boast. A wound from Nyxara blessing can only been healed immediately if a vitaweaver is present or else you have to rest for weeks for proper recovery.

  Caelum’s lips curled in a bitter scowl. “Sending a child to war… and a healer at that.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. A support mage was practically useless on the front lines. What were the Luminaran thinking?

  At the sound of his approaching footsteps, the boy flinched and snapped his head up. His fearful gaze locked onto Caelum’s features.

  Blonde hair. Violet eyes.

  The boy’s mouth opened, his voice trembling. “Y-you’re the cursed child, aren’t you?”

  Despite the fear in his voice, he forced himself to stand, his small frame rigid with defiance. “I-I’m not afraid of you!” he declared, though the slight quiver in his hands betrayed his words.

  Caelum exhaled heavily and pointed to the east. “Head that way, kid. The Luminara war camp isn’t far. Since the second horn has sounded, no Nyxaran will harm you.”

  The boy hesitated, his wary eyes never leaving Caelum’s face. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, cautiously moving past him. But as soon as he had enough distance, his nerves finally gave in, and he broke into a sprint, disappearing into the ruins beyond. Caelum watched him go with a tired sigh.

  He had his own path to follow.