I am speaking with my sword
Lira.
She had destroyed his trust, and shattered his belief in others. Her betrayal wasn't just a wound—it was a firestorm that consumed his ability to let go. To him, control was safety. Control meant no one could hurt him again. These flames, this sword—they were his way of showing me how he viewed the world.
'I see it now,' I mused, my smirk deepening. His fire wasn't just a weapon—it was his armor. A shield against the chaos that had once burned him.
I shifted my stance, black flames swirling tighter around me, their chaotic movements a stark contrast to Varen's disciplined inferno.
"Let me show you," I said, my voice low and steady, carrying easily across the battlefield. "One thing wrong with your fire."
His eyes narrowed, the dragon flames surging as he lunged toward me, his greatsword carving a fiery crescent through the air. I stepped forward to meet him, my estoc rising to clash with his blade.