After a few hours, the gentle rustle of dry leaves and faint chirping of wind-cut branches filled the air — nature's quiet song after chaos.
Arson's eyes cracked open.
At first, all he saw was blur, muted browns and dusky greens until shapes began to sharpen. A canopy of wilted trees stretched above, their branches like skeletal arms clawing at the sky. The ground beneath him was cracked, scorched... and familiar.
He blinked slowly. What... where...? His muscles screamed as he tried to move. Every inch of his body ached from exhaustion, like the aftermath of carrying a volcano on his back. He pushed himself up on trembling arms, groaning. His fingers dug into the dirt, leaving faint embers glowing where his palms pressed.
Pain pulsed along his left side. He glanced down and grimaced.
The vine.
Still fused into his upper arm, like a living reminder of everything that went wrong. Its surface had darkened slightly from the heat, but it still pulsed faintly with life—Sylvia's energy.
He stared at the opposite direction of the vine only to see Sylvia herself stirring beside him, groaning softly, face twisted in half-asleep frustration.
"Ugh... what..." she mumbled, lifting her head slowly. Her green hair was tangled, dirt clung to her skin, and the usual vitality of her had faded to a dim flicker. She looked more like a struggling sprout than a princess of nature.
Arson, already upright, yanked his arm upward in frustration, trying to get fully on his feet. The sudden pull made Sylvia gasp sharply.
"Hey!" she snapped, though her voice cracked. "Can you not yank?! That still hurts!"
Arson rolled his eyes. "Then maybe get your vine off me already!"
He finally stood but barely. His legs buckled, his chest rose and fell like bellows, and every heartbeat sent fire-pulses up his spine. Still, he stood. Pride demanded it.
Sylvia clutched her side and pushed herself up more slowly, grimacing as her vine refused to release from his burned skin.
It hurt.
For both of them.
As the dull ache spread, flashes of memory hit Arson like shards of glass the collapse of the base, Ragnar's mocking voice, the humiliation, the storm of rage, the parting with Glacius... and finally, the moment his legs gave out beside hers.
He clenched his fists. "...How the hell are we still alive?"
Sylvia grumbled, pushing her hair from her face. "We were better off dead. That way I wouldn't have to deal with you again."
Arson scoffed. "Not my fault I need more territory. You're the one who keeps planting roots in my path."
Sylvia shot him a glare. "You're adding a lot of work for me. Every time you burn something, I'm the one stuck fixing it!"
But Arson was barely listening.
His eyes had narrowed, locked onto something far in the distance— A small village, its homes simple, smoke curling lazily from chimney tops.
Arson's lips curled into a grin, slow and wide, like a hungry predator spotting prey.
His fists flared to life—igniting in twin bursts of flame, excitement and ambition crackling in every movement.
"There," he said, almost reverently. "A free territory..."
Without warning, he charged forward, the ground beneath his feet blackening as fire danced in his wake.
"Hey—!" Sylvia yelped as the vine tethered to Arson yanked her forward. She stumbled, barely catching herself, dragged like a reluctant prisoner of war.
"ARSON!" she snapped, her voice rising with thorns of panic and fury. "We just recovered, and now you're going to burn down the first village we see?!"
Arson didn't stop. His fire blazed brighter as he lifted his hands in a reckless battle stance. "I'm not just burning it! I'm conquering it!"
Sylvia's eyes widened. "You maniac."
The moment his feet thundered closer to the village, sprouts of green burst up around Sylvia's feet in defiance—instinctive opposition to the flames beside her.
"You burn it," she growled, "and I will regrow it—twice as lush, twice as fast! And I will outlast your stupid flames!"
"Then you better keep up, Sprout Queen!" Arson roared back with a pride filled laugh, already forming fireballs in his palms. "Because I'm not slowing down!"
Meanwhile on the other side...
Glacius stirred with a groan, his breath forming a faint cloud in the cold morning air.
His body ached like fractured ice, but the pain only confirmed one thing—he was alive.
Barely.
Beside him, Peggy slowly opened her eyes, blinking through the haze. Her golden glow was dimmer than usual, her limbs sluggish and stiff. But it wasn't the exhaustion that made her grimace—it was the lingering pull of her wing still frozen to Glacius's back.
"Ugh... great," she muttered, trying and failing to yank it free. "Still stuck to the ice sculpture."
Glacius didn't answer at first. He slowly pushed himself upright, every motion deliberate, every muscle heavy from two days of pushing past limits.
"...Why are we not dead?" he murmured, more annoyed than relieved.
Peggy groaned, sitting up with a wince. "I'd prefer to be dead if it means not waking up next to a glacier."
Glacius's eyes narrowed as the cold settled back into his posture. "You attached yourself to me, remember?"
"You froze my feathers onto your frozen corpse!"
"You invaded my space with them!"
They were both not even in the mood to yell properly, but the irritation simmered all the same.
But then—his gaze shifted.
Across few meters from the unfrozen sea, a quiet floating residence rested.
It was small, peaceful. Fish-like villagers moved between the houses, seemingly unaware of the storm lying just outside their reach.
Glacius's eyes narrowed.
"Territory," he whispered.
Peggy blinked, still dusting herself off. "Wait, what?"
"Unclaimed. Defenseless," he murmured, standing straighter. His breath came out as a plume of fog. "And mine."
Before she could protest, he moved.
A shimmering path of ice spread beneath his feet with each step, slick and smooth, already on his way to the floating aquatic residence toward the village.
"Are you serious?!" Peggy shrieked as she was yanked forward by her still-frozen wing. She flailed, slipping on the sudden ice trail. "GLACIUS!"
"I will claim my place," Glacius said coolly, ignoring her completely. "With or without your cooperation."
"You dragging me is not cooperation!" she snapped, flapping her wings furiously which only made her more stuck. "I am not a banner for your royal frost campaign!"
He didn't stop.
Peggy groaned in fury, summoning little bursts of light energy behind her as she tried to melt the path just enough to resist.
"If you freeze that village," she shrieked, "I'll melt your entire territory."
"Try it," Glacius said with a cold smile. "I'd like to see your light keep up with my frost."