The fiery orb still burned in the sky when Violet suddenly stopped. She stood with her back to Amanda, her shoulders trembling. One second. Another.
Then she spun around and rushed back.
Amanda saw it and instinctively took a step backward. Then a second. Then a third.
No. No-no-no. What is she doing? Why is she running? Why is she—
“STOP!” Violet cried out, and there was no command in her voice — only a plea.
Amanda turned and tried to walk away. Not running. Keepers didn’t run. But very, very quickly. Her golden armor glittered in the sunlight, and she hoped it would blind Violet, slow her down, give her time…
Violet was faster.
Her arms wrapped around Amanda with such force that she let out a soft gasp. The embrace was tight, hot, almost suffocating. Violet pressed herself against her, hiding her face in Amanda’s shoulder, her whole body shaking.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Amanda froze. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She didn’t know what to do. Hug her back? Push her away? Stand there like a statue?
She’s crying. The Archmage of the Empire is crying. On my shoulder. What have I done? I just said some nonsense about fire. I don’t… I don’t deserve this.
“You don’t understand,” Violet sobbed. “Seven years. For seven years I tried. Memorizing spells. Studying artifacts. I thought power was control. That the more I knew, the stronger I would be. And you… you just said ‘ask.’ And it came. As if… as if I had been blind all this time.”
Amanda slowly, hesitantly raised her hand. Her golden gauntlet lightly — almost weightlessly — touched Violet’s back.
“It’s all right,” she said, her voice quiet, almost human. “You weren’t blind. You were just… trying too hard.”
Violet lifted her head. Her violet eyes were red from tears, mascara smudged, and she no longer looked like the Archmage of the Empire — only like a woman who had been strong for far too long.
“Can I…” she swallowed, “can I stay? Next to you? At least for today?”
Amanda looked at her. Who was now trembling in her arms and asking permission to simply stay close.
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”
The entire camp saw it.
Soldiers training on the field froze with their swords raised. Those sharpening blades forgot their work. Even the old veterans, who had seen it all, stared wide-eyed.
“She… hugged the Keeper?” whispered a young soldier.
“And she’s crying,” added another.
“And the Keeper… she’s comforting her.”
The old veteran — the same one who had ordered everyone to stay far away from that spot — slowly shook his head.
“I told you, lads,” he said. “We don’t want to go anywhere near that. We won’t understand it. No one will.”
“Is it magic?” someone asked.
“That, boy,” the veteran said, looking at the golden figure on the hill, “is something stronger than magic.”
They watched. Everyone watched. Even Randel, who had been commanding a squad at the far end of the camp, noticed the commotion, lifted his head, and saw.
Two women. One in gold, the other in violet. Embracing. And the one in violet was crying.
Randel frowned. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
“What… what the hell is going on?”
He took a step toward them. Then another.
Violet didn’t let go. She stood pressed against Amanda’s shoulder, her breathing gradually steadying.
“Tell me,” she asked softly. “About the person who taught you.”
Amanda froze. Everything inside her dropped.
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Who taught me? No one. I’m a fraud. I read a book and watched anime. I’m not—
“There was one man,” she said, and the words flowed on their own, as if someone else were guiding them. “A long time ago. A very long time ago.”
Violet lifted her head. Curiosity sparked in her eyes.
“Was he a mage?”
“A great mage,” Amanda said, gazing into the distance where the sky met the mountains. “His name was Akley.”
Akley. I just made that name up. Sounds ancient. Should work, heh.
“Akley,” Violet repeated with reverence. “I’ve never heard that name.”
“He was erased,” Amanda continued quietly, and real — not pretended — sadness colored her voice. A sadness for something she had never had. “He was the Chief Keeper of the Forests. Before me.”
Violet held her breath.
“He taught me everything,” Amanda went on. “Not spells. Not rituals. He taught me how to listen. To the forest. The wind. Fire. Water. He used to say: ‘Power isn’t in commanding. Power is in asking… and being ready to accept the answer.’”
“He was… your teacher?” Violet asked carefully.
Amanda looked at her. The longing in her eyes was so deep that Violet forgot to breathe for a moment.
“He was my first love,” Amanda said. “I would have done anything for him.”
She didn’t know why she was saying it. Maybe because Violet looked at her as if she believed every word. Maybe because she was tired of being strong. Maybe because, in this lie, something suddenly felt real — a longing for a feeling she had never known.
“And then?” Violet whispered.
“And then he left,” Amanda’s voice trembled. “The forests called him. And he answered. I… I stayed behind.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t ready,” Amanda stared at her hands — at the golden gauntlets that made her a goddess. “I was too young. Too foolish. Too… scared. And by the time I realized I was ready, it was already too late.”
Violet looked at her, and her eyes filled with tears again.
“Is that why you’re like this?” she asked. “So calm. So strong. Is that why you don’t let anyone get close?”
Amanda didn’t answer. She simply stood there, gazing into the distance, feeling something tighten painfully inside her chest.
I’m lying. Lying to her. Lying to myself. But why… does it hurt so much?
Randel stood twenty paces away. He had heard everything.
He had approached quietly. He hadn’t wanted to intrude. He had simply wanted… to make sure everything was all right. But when he heard her voice — quiet, almost tender, nothing like the mechanical tone she used with the generals — he froze.
Akley. Chief Keeper of the Forests. Her first love.
He stared at her profile. At the golden armor that made her look like a goddess. At her hands gently holding Violet’s. And he felt something tighten painfully inside his chest.
She was ready to do anything for him. And for me?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure. She was here. She had let him kiss her. She had said she was afraid. But was she ready to do anything for him?
Jealousy rose within him, dark and sticky. Jealousy toward a man he had never seen. A man who might have been dead for a thousand years. A man who had taught her everything. Who had been her first love.
And me? Who am I to her? Just a boy who doesn’t understand? Just… someone who happened to be nearby?
He took a step forward. Then another. His boots crunched on the gravel.
Amanda lifted her head. Their eyes met.
“Randel,” she said. There was no surprise in her voice — only weariness. “You heard everything?”
“Enough,” his voice was steady, but inside everything was boiling. “Your teacher. Akley. Was he… worthy of you?”
Amanda looked at him. In his eyes she saw what she feared most: jealousy. Pain. A question she had no answer to.
“He was wise,” she said. “Strong. Calm.”
“And you loved him.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“Yes,” she said. “I loved him.”
Randel stepped closer. His hand landed on her shoulder — harder than necessary. Almost painful.
“And now?” he asked. “Do you love anyone now?”
Violet froze. She watched them, and in her eyes was something Amanda hadn’t expected — understanding.
“I don’t know,” Amanda answered honestly. “It’s been so long since I… I’ve forgotten how it feels.”
“You haven’t forgotten,” Randel pulled her toward him. “You’re just afraid.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be,” he brushed his hand across her cheek and gently removed her helmet. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not Akley. I won’t disappear into the forest. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay by your side. Always.”
Violet watched them, tears shining in her eyes. But these were not tears of jealousy. They were tears of something else. Relief? Hope?
“You deserve each other,” she said softly. “Both of you. You’ve both been alone for far too long.”
She took a step back, giving them space.
“I’ll go. I have… fire I need to learn.”
She smiled, and in that smile was something Amanda hadn’t seen before — warmth.
“Thank you. For everything.”
And with that, she left.
They were left alone. Randel held her in his arms, and she could feel his heart beating against her.
“Akley,” he said, and there was no jealousy in his voice — only pain. “Did you really love him?”
“I thought I did,” Amanda replied. “I was young. Foolish. He was strong. Wise. I thought love was when someone taught you. Protected you. Saved you.”
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
“But that isn’t love. That’s… gratitude. Fear. The desire to be needed.”
“And love?” he asked. “What is it like?”
Amanda looked at him. At this man who was not a great mage. Who was not a wise teacher. Who was simply there. Who believed in her even when she didn’t believe in herself.
“Love,” she said, “is when you can be weak. When you’re not afraid to show that you’re afraid. When someone looks at you and sees not a legend… but simply you.”
She touched his cheek. Her fingers trembled.
“You saw the real me. And you didn’t turn away.”
“Never,” he whispered. “I’ll never turn away.”
He kissed her. Right there, on the hill, beneath the fiery orb that still burned in the sky. And the entire camp saw it.
But no one laughed. No one joked. The soldiers watched them, and in their eyes was something Amanda hadn’t expected — respect.
“They’re watching,” she whispered, pulling back slightly.
“Let them watch,” Randel replied. “Let them know. Their Keeper is not a goddess. She is a woman. Who is afraid. Who loves. Who will fight for them. And I will fight for her.”
Amanda looked at him. For the first time, she could simply… be.
“Randel,” she said. “I…”
“Not now,” he interrupted gently. “First the horde. Then everything else.”
He took her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers.
“And after that,” he smiled, and there was a promise in that smile, “you’ll tell me everything. Not about Akley. About yourself. About who you really are. All right?”
“All right,” she said. “I promise.”