The Ashen Realm didn't appear on official maps.
Only in Virel Academy's restricted scrolls: a place where elements twisted, where fire never died… and water never found peace.
"Wonderful," Irish muttered, spitting ash from the trail. "A dead wasteland, shadow beasts, and you, Aria. Could this get any worse?"
"Yes," Aria replied coolly, without looking at her. "If you talked less and walked more."
Mira sighed. Ren didn't even glance up.
They were used to it by now.
Ever since leaving the academy, Aria and Irish hadn't exchanged a single word that wasn't an insult disguised as strategy.
Their team—assigned by obligation, not choice—had one mission: retrieve the first fragment of the Stellar Core.
Rule one: Everyone must participate.
Rule two: No one can do it alone.
"The temple's across the Chain Bridge," Ren said, pointing to a chasm spanned by rusted metal links.
"That's a bridge?" Irish scoffed. "Looks like the perfect trap for someone to fall… and no one would miss them."
Aria ignored her.
She crossed first.
Halfway across, a chain snapped.
The bridge lurched.
Aria slipped.
"Mira, steady the wind!" Ren shouted, slamming his palms into the earth. Roots surged, anchoring the structure.
Mira summoned an upward current.
And Irish, without thinking, blasted a stream of blue flame that melted the broken chain, fusing it back together in seconds.
Aria regained her footing.
She turned.
Irish had already looked away.
"Thanks," Aria said, voice icy.
"Not for you," Irish snapped. "For the fragment. I'm not losing points because of your clumsiness."
No one mentioned that Irish had screamed her name.
No one mentioned her hands were still shaking.
Inside the black-stone temple, the runes demanded balance.
"One seal per element," Aria read from the ancient script. "Activate simultaneously."
They took their positions:
Ren at Earth
Mira at Air
Aria at Water
Irish at Fire
But the moment they synced, the system faltered.
Irish's fire raged, wild and uncontrolled.
Aria's water churned, rebellious.
The runes flickered, on the verge of collapse.
"Irish, rein in your fire!" Mira yelled.
"Aria, stabilize your water!" Ren ordered.
But Aria wasn't watching the runes. She was watching Irish.
And she saw what the others couldn't: fear.
Fear of failing. Fear of being seen as weak—especially by her.
"Stop fighting your fire," Aria said quietly, just for Irish. "Guide it."
"And you?" Irish shot back through gritted teeth. "Will you stop treating your water like a cage?"
It was a challenge, not advice.
But it worked.
They matched their breath.
Aria loosened her rigid control.
Irish softened her flame.
And for one fleeting moment, fire and water weren't enemies.
The runes blazed. The door opened.
Inside, the shadow creature struck.
Each acted:
Ren with stone walls
Mira with slicing gusts
Irish with fire barriers
Aria with water shields
But the beast fed on imbalance.
"We can't beat it like this!" Mira cried. dodging a tendril of smoke.
"Then we don't beat it," Aria said. "We balance it."
She locked eyes with Irish.
Irish clenched her jaw.
"Don't even suggest what I think you're about to."
"I don't have a choice. Neither do you."
Together, they channeled their powers—not as weapons, but as opposing forces that held each other in check.
Water and fire spiraled, forging golden steam.
The creature dissolved into ash.
Silence.
"That was… intense," Mira said, breaking the tension.
"It was necessary," Aria replied, wiping sweat from her brow.
"It doesn't mean anything," Irish added—as if trying to convince herself.
Back at camp, Ren brewed root tea. Mira told stories to lighten the mood.
But Aria and Irish sat at opposite ends of the fire.
"You know you can't hate her that much," Mira whispered to Irish, handing her a cup. "Not after today."
"I hate that she makes me feel like I need someone," Irish muttered, staring into the flames. "Especially her."
Later, Aria took first watch.
Irish pretended to sleep.
But when the wind shifted and the cold became unbearable, Irish stood and walked toward the fire—not toward Aria.
"Can't sleep," she said, not looking at her.
"Then stay awake," Aria replied. "Not my problem."
Irish sat by the fire, back turned.
"In Pyra, they say when fire and water come together…"
"They don't," Aria cut in. "One always dominates. Or they both destroy each other."
Irish's fists tightened.
"Then I hope it's you who gets destroyed first, ice princess."
"And I hope your fire consumes you before you ever look at me again like I'm your salvation."
They fell silent.
The fire crackled.
The water in Aria's canteen rippled… for no reason at all.
At dawn, they rejoined the group as if nothing had happened.
Because nothing had.
Just a mission completed.
Just two enemies who, for one moment, truly saw each other—and hated themselves for it.