Blind Legacy of Time

Arden and Lyra sat in a forest clearing, their days together shifting his world. Lyra shaped her flames into a flower, her blood-red hair catching the breeze. "Look," she said, smiling. "You can play with your magic too. It doesn't have to scare you."

Arden murmured, "Play with it?" He opened his hands, blood-red flames rising. With Lyra's guidance, he molded them into a rough orb. She clapped. "See? Perfect!"

"With you, it's easy," he said, a rare warmth in his voice. "Alone, they fight me."

Lyra's golden eyes gleamed. "Then you're not alone anymore," she replied.

That day, everything felt right until a shadow loomed. No rustle, just a weight. From the trees emerged a figure its body swirling black smoke, eyes glowing red. Its voice hissed, "The blind heir… but first, the girl."

It thrust a hand forward, smoke lashing at Lyra. She summoned her flames, but the smoke seared her arm. She screamed, collapsing. Arden froze then snapped. "Lyra!" he roared, something breaking inside.

He slammed his palms down, blood-red flames erupting to encircle Lyra in a blazing barrier. She was safe within, her cries muffled. Turning to the figure, a yellow light flared in his blind eye, a twisted grin curling his lips. "You," he said, voice cold and sharp. "You hurt her. Now it's my game."

The figure hurled a smoky spear. Arden sidestepped, flames surging precise, alive. "Try running," he taunted, snapping his fingers. Fire coiled into chains, binding the figure's arms. It writhed, smoke slashing back, but Arden raised a fiery shield. "Is that all?" he laughed, Karlin's cruel edge in his tone.

The fight stretched on. The figure stabbed smoky claws into the ground; Arden leaped, shaping his flames into a spear midair and driving it into its chest. It staggered, shrieking. He spun his fire into a vortex, tightening it slowly. "Too much fun," he muttered, chuckling as he unleashed a final burst. The figure dissolved, smoke scattering.

Breathing hard, his flames faded, the barrier collapsing. Lyra lay there, her arm scorched. Arden dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he touched her wound. "Lyra," he whispered, voice cracking.

Lyra felt his touch, opening her eyes. She'd seen it the cold fury, the calculated dance with the figure. But now, kneeling before her, he was Arden again. "You okay?" he asked, fragile. She nodded, unable to speak. His rage had terrified her, yet he'd saved her.

Arden exhaled, relief washing over him. "I kept you safe," he murmured. Then that voice pierced his mind: "The blind heir, your master awaits." His blind eye burned, vision blackening. He collapsed beside Lyra.