Then Arson spoke.
"Do you wanna know how it all started?"
Sylvia tilted her head slightly.
"...What?"
"The conquest. The pride. My tribe."
He didn't wait for a response. The words just... flowed.
"When I was ten, the former Lord of the Magma Tribe took me into my first war. Against your people. We weren't there to talk. Just to burn."
His voice didn't falter. It wasn't regretful—just remembering.
"I was a kid... but I was excited. Excited to see flames dance and hear the screams. And that day, I finally managed to burn some Nature Tribe soldiers. Just small ones. But they fell."
Sylvia listened, her fingers clenching slightly, the memory surfacing like a bad dream.
"And then... I saw her." Arson's voice softened slightly, eyes glazing over in the past. "This little girl. She looked like a flower trying to stop a forest fire. She stood in my way. Tried to restore everything I destroyed. Again and again."
Sylvia's vines twitched. Her breath grew slower.
She remembered. All of it.
"I grew pissed. She interfered with my flames. My pride. So I burned hotter, pushed harder. And I won. She couldn't keep up.
She had a future... maybe something bright.
But she was in my way.
So I crushed her."
The vines around him tightened.
The vines around Arson tightened — not to bind, but as a reflection of Sylvia's boiling emotions.
Her breath trembled, not just from anger, but from a wound that never truly healed.
Arson blinked, confused for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle. "Getting mad again, huh?"
But when he glanced at her, he saw it.
The stillness.
The way her vines trembled over his chest.
The pain that wasn't just from his story — it was hers too.
"...What's wrong?" he asked.
Sylvia didn't answer right away. She just stared down at him.
Then, softly, she asked, "That girl... the one who stood against you.
Did she have light green eyes and golden leaves on her shoulders?"
Arson's brows furrowed. "I don't remember the leaves. But her eyes... yeah. Fierce ones. Like a storm trying to stop a wildfire."
Sylvia's eyes widened slightly.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"...That was me."
Arson stiffened.
"What?"
"I remember it clearly," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "I was just a child. I saw my my family, friends, neighbours everyone defending our territory from burning. I tried to stop a magma child who was older than me. I tried to restore what the magma tribe destroyed.
But he... he didn't stop.
He—no you just kept burning."
Arson sat up slightly, his expression shifting. "No... No, that can't be..."
His voice cracked for the first time.
"I didn't know. I thought she... I thought you died."
Sylvia's vines loosened, slightly — not out of mercy, but shock.
"You left after that in celebration, didn't you?" she whispered.
"You fled like a coward not wanting to face the others wrath. Right?"
Arson nodded slowly. "I... I couldn't handle it.
I felt proud at first. But then I saw her body—your body—scorched, unmoving.
You weren't supposed to die."
He gritted his teeth. "I was just a kid. But even then, I felt it. Guilt. It crushed me.
That was the last time I attacked someone weaker than me.
After that, I vowed to only fight those who could fight back. Strong opponents. Worthy ones.
Because I didn't want to feel that again.
I didn't want to kill someone helpless again."
Sylvia looked at him, silent.
"I thought if I buried that memory under conquest, pride, and domination... it would vanish.
And it did.
Until now."
He looked up at her. "Until I met you."
Sylvia exhaled, slowly.
"I survived," she said. "My people gave their everything to keep me alive. Because they believed in my future.
That one day, I'd stand strong enough to protect everyone.
To protect myself."
Their eyes met in the stillness of night.
It wasn't war anymore.
It wasn't conquest or restoration.
It was truth.
And it hurt.
But beneath that pain...
Was a strange, quiet warmth.
The realization that even in their darkest moments, they had shaped each other —
and somehow, found their way back.
Arson looked away. "So... it was you. All along."
Sylvia finally let go of her grip, her vines withdrawing.
But she didn't move away.
"Yes. It was me."
Then after a pause, she added,
"And I'm still here."
The silence between them now was no longer tense with rivalry — it was heavy with revelation.
Arson lay back down slowly, his hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the stars above their camp. "I should hate this," he muttered. "Knowing it was you. That I failed to destroy you completely. That I failed my tribe's ideals that day."
Sylvia lay beside him again, her golden glow soft in the moonlight. She didn't respond right away. Instead, she gently rested her hand on the grass, letting it bloom into tiny flowers around them. "You didn't fail," she whispered. "You grew. Just... in the wrong direction."
He snorted. "Wrong, huh? I became a conqueror. A symbol of pride for the Magma Tribe. They still chant my name."
"And yet," Sylvia said, voice quiet but unwavering, "you sleep beside the girl you tried to kill. You let her vines hold you. You never push her away."
Arson's chest rose and fell slowly. His usual cocky smirk was absent.
"...That part's different," he admitted. "You're not just some girl. You're you."
He paused.
"And if you vanished now... I think I'd burn everything. Just to fill the emptiness."
Sylvia's heart skipped a beat.
She turned her head toward him, staring into his fire-lit eyes. "Even if I keep undoing everything you burn?"
Arson finally smiled again — but this one wasn't smug. It was real.
"Especially because of that."
A quiet laugh escaped Sylvia's lips. It was the first time in a while that it wasn't out of mockery or defiance — it was genuine. "Then I guess I'll keep following you."
"...And I'll keep letting you."
His voice was a whisper, like the crackle of a fading flame.
Sylvia wrapped her vines around Arson's torso yet again — firmer, tighter than before. The pressure surprised him. It wasn't violent, but it carried weight — her will, her strength, her history.
"...Still holding a grudge?" he muttered, raising an eyebrow, though his voice had lost its usual cockiness.
Sylvia's eyes were sharp in the moonlight, but her voice was steady, almost gentle. "No. I have to do my duty. That's all." Her grip tightened further. Arson let out a sharp breath. "Knowing you were the reason I lived with that fear... that helplessness... I can't let you go unchecked. Not again. I won't."
She leaned slightly closer, her aura illuminating the tension in her features. "If I let you go now... I'd be the same little girl you burned through back then. I have to hold you tighter — to prove I've grown. To prove I'm not the one who lost."
The vines pressed down harder, squeezing Arson until he was huffing against them, his breath shallow.
"...O-okay... I get it..." he wheezed. "You're strong now. Very strong. Too strong..."
Realizing she was choking him, Sylvia blinked, startled, and loosened the vines — just enough for him to breathe properly.
Arson coughed once and grinned between gasps. "Nice... Now it seems you'll be the reason for my trauma."
Sylvia blinked again... then snorted softly, shaking her head. "How ironic."
There was a pause, and then — unexpectedly — they both started laughing. Quiet, breathy, and strange. But real.
Former enemies. Wounded hearts and tangled fates.
Held together by vines and firelight.
Not forgiving.
Not forgetting.
But changing.
"...Get some sleep, vine girl," Arson muttered after a while, finally settling back. "Tomorrow, I conquer again."
"And I restore again," Sylvia replied softly, already adjusting her grip for the night.
"...And you choke me again?"
"No promises," she smirked.
They both fell silent, but this time — it wasn't awkward.
It was something warm.
Something new.
Something... inevitable