While the twins fought their desperate duel, Rime had already begun to drift away from the others.
His red hair was streaked with dirt, but it still caught the afternoon light. The headphones hung loose around his neck, relics of a world that didn't exist here, useless except for comfort.
Behind him, footsteps splashed through the mud.
"Following me, huh?" Rime asked without turning.
"Sure am," Ember shot back, voice bright and cutting. "You're the reason I'm here, so if you think I'm letting you out of my sight, you're crazier than you look."
He smirked. "I'm the reason you're here? No, you're the reason I'm here."
The world shifted.
Not in light, not in sound, but in the way memories surface when they're too heavy to keep buried.
Rime walked out of the city gym, hood up, sweat still cooling against his skin. He scrolled his phone for a playlist that matched his rhythm, something mellow, something wordless. Evening stretched long across the concrete, streetlights not yet awake.
Half a block ahead, a girl was yelling into her phone.
Her silver hair gleamed like mercury under the setting sun; her voice cut sharp through the city hum.
"No, I don't care!" she snapped. "You said you'd be here. I got ready, I cancelled plans, I..."
She paused, furious. "Unbelievable. You always do this."
Rime didn't even glance up, he could hear screaming but just ignored it, looking down, absorbed into his music.
She didn't see him either. He didn't see her.
They collided.
Phones flew.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Ember barked immediately, snatching her purse before it hit the sidewalk. "Can you not look where you're going?"
"Me?" Rime shot back, picking up his phone. "What about you? Try watching where you're walking."
"Oh, that's rich," she said, eyes flashing. "Do you just wander around blindfolded or are you always this oblivious?"
"Only when people use the street like a therapy session."
"At least I feel things, you walking deadpan."
"At least I don't broadcast them to everyone in earshot."
They stood nose to nose, traffic passing, two strangers united by irritation and echoing words.
"Unbelievable," Ember muttered, dusting herself off and preparing to walk away.
"Couldn't agree more," Rime replied, and they turned away at the same time.
That was when the air buzzed.
A strange, static hum. The world blurred around them, edges melting, sound folding inward.
Rime looked down just in time to see the ground ripple under his sneakers.
"Uh..." he started, but didn't finish.
Ember looked down just in time to see the world open up.
The street gave out beneath them.
They fell through the light and landed together in mud, both swearing, both clawing for balance. The first day. The first scream. The war waiting in the mist.
"Well," Rime said, dragging his thoughts back to the now. "If you're going to follow me, at least be useful."
Ember scoffed. "No, you be useful. I'll be me."
"Fantastic," Rime muttered. "Can't wait."
They didn't get another word before spotting the next threat, a giant standing over the field, both hands clutching axes, each one humming faintly from the weight of the swing.
Both of them grinned.
"Let's do this," they said in unison.
Then paused, then groaned at the same time.
"Don't start," Ember said, rolling her shoulders.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Rime replied, lowering his spear.
They ran.
Mud sprayed behind them as they moved in perfect stride, neither slowing for the other. The giant swung low, trying to clip them both in a single sweep.
Rime planted his spear's butt in the dirt and vaulted upward, twisting midair, his knee crashing square into the giant's nose. Blood and dust burst in tandem.
Ember, at the same instant, swung her great axe, not to cut, but to hook. She caught the back of the giant's knee, wrenching backward with a scream that was half fury, half triumph.
The combined force sent the giant off-balance.
The creature stumbled, shocked, he had seen them at odds with one another, limping, half-healed. He had thought them broken, disjointed, unworthy of effort.
Now, falling backward, he understood.
Underestimation was a mortal sin on the battlefield.
Rime hit the ground in a roll, spinning back to his feet, motion so fluid it felt rehearsed. He didn't hesitate. The spear drove down hard through the giant's skull, the tip snapping off as it dug deep.
The giant went still.
Rime exhaled, staring at the splintered weapon, just a staff now, but still something.
He turned to Ember.
She was swearing, tugging furiously at her axe, wedged under the giant's thigh.
"Need a hand?" he asked, smirking.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she snapped, yanking harder.
"Immensely."
"Then maybe you should...help!"
He crossed his arms. "Nope. Too much fun watching."
After a few more seconds and several creative curses, the giant's body finally broke apart into shimmering light. The axe came free at once, sending Ember tumbling backward into the mud.
Rime stopped laughing, stopped smirking and just walked over to her.
He reached down and picked her up, before she could even say another word.
She brushed herself off, flustered.
"Next?" she asked, breath short.
"Next," Rime said simply, nodding.
The next giant was already waiting, smaller than most, lean and wiry, knuckles sheathed in rough metal that gleamed like broken mirrors. He stood with fists raised, legs set, eyes locked.
This one would not make the first move. He saw what had just happened, and he wouldn't make the same mistake the other young giant did.
Rime and Ember exchanged a look, a mutual dare to each other, half amusement, half challenge.
Ember went first.
She charged with her axe raised high, bellowing as the metal cut the air. The giant stepped forward and met her swing head-on.
A single strike of his fist, steel against steel. The impact cracked like thunder.
The axe spun from her grip, yanked wide, dragging her off balance. She stumbled, fell hard into the mud.
The giant shifted its weight, bringing one heavy fist up to crush her.
Rime was already moving.
He darted in, stabbing the jagged end of his broken spear into the giant's thigh again and again not deep, but enough to draw blood.
The giant roared and turned, swinging wide, but Rime was too fast. Each time the fist came down, he was already gone sliding, pivoting, cutting back with the reach of his spear shaft.
The fight became rhythm.
Rime struck from range; Ember rolled back to her feet and swung wide arcs meant to distract more than harm.
Their words fell away. The noise of the battlefield faded behind the beat of their own motion, two mismatched hearts finding the same tempo.
The giant bellowed, throwing punches like hammer falls.
Rime slipped under one, ducked another, jabbed the broken spear into a knee.
Ember darted in behind him, swinging the flat of her axe against the giant's ribs, forcing it to pivot again.
Each move was instinct, wordless, effortless, as if they were two sides of the same coin flipping through the air.
And the giant began to falter. Not from injury, but from confusion.
Two small humans, weaving in and out, impossible to pin down, taunting him with grace he hadn't expected.
One being nimble and unable to be hit.
While the other, even though untrained in the axe she could barely use, was using the weight of its swings to move and dodge just the same.
But time catches all rhythm.
Rime's breath grew ragged. His arm shook from every thrust.
Ember's swings slowed, each one heavier than the last.
The exhaustion of their wounds and adrenaline was setting in.
The giant noticed.
Its stance shifted, tighter now, smarter.
Rime looked at Ember. She looked back. Both smiled faintly.
"Shall we?" he said.
"We shall," she answered.
They moved together.
Rime dove low, sliding under the giant's swing, sweeping his broken spear behind the creature's legs.
Ember mirrored him from the other side, bringing her axe down and hooking its curved edge under the wood.
"Now!" she shouted.
They pulled in unison, strength meeting timing, desperation meeting instinct. For a heartbeat, the giant wavered.
Then the spear shaft snapped.
Both fell backward, landing hard.
The giant didn't hesitate.
It struck once, then again, each blow brutal, final.
The noise of the field came back around them.
Grey stood not far away, arms folded, watching.
Argent had gone off deeper into the field but Grey's attention stayed on the pair who had just fallen.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, expression unreadable.
"For people who never shut up," he said softly, "their song was something else."
He tapped his thigh lightly, the rhythm of their fight still echoing in his head.
"All that noise between them… turns out it was harmony. Chaos to us, maybe, but to the right ears? Beautiful."
He smiled, the sound of battle humming faintly around him.
"They were a discord that still found its melody," he murmured. "Loud, messy, alive. A duet written by accident but perfect in its own way."
The wind shifted.
Two motes of light rose from where Rime and Ember had fallen, spiraling upward until they vanished into the overcast sky.
Grey watched them go.
"Worth every note," he said, almost to himself.
Then he turned toward the sound of clashing on the horizon, the next verse of the song already beginning.