The fire crackled softly, casting a warm, uneven glow across the room as Valeria shifted in her seat, her gaze slowly turning toward Lucavion. She hated the concern that was gnawing her heart, but the words escaped her lips before she could stop them.
"How is your body?" she asked, her tone asured, though a trace of genuine curiosity softening its edge.
Lucavion stretched lazily, his arms behind his head. His smirk reappeared. "It's well, all thanks to our dear healer. Miss… uh, what was her na again? Never got it, actually." He chuckled. "But she did a great job. Most of the pain is gone, though my core's still a bit shaky, though—needs a day or two, I'd guess."
Valeria nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. "You should've told if you were in such a state. Fighting in that condition could've been reckless."
"Could've been?" Lucavion tilted his head, mock confusion lacing his voice. "I thought recklessness was part of my charm, wasn't it?"
Valeria shot him a withering look, but her focus quickly shifted, a mory from his last fight surfacing. "Those black flas you used… what are they? I've never seen anything like them."
Lucavion's smirk faded slightly, replaced by a contemplative expression. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "They're part of my mana accumulation art," he said simply, his voice unusually steady.
"I understand that much," Valeria tilted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she considered his answer. "But… there's sothing strange about them. Why are they so cold? It's… unnatural."
Lucavion chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Cold, huh? You're not the first one to say that. Most people expect the fire to burn, to sear. But my flas… they're different. They draw from a… different source."
"And that source is?" she pressed, her gaze steady.
"It is a….."
"It is a…" He paused, his smirk returning.
"Secret."
"You!"
Lucavion burst into laughter, warm and full-bodied, echoing through the room, shaking off the usual veneer of mockery. It sounded so genuine that Valeria blinked, montarily caught off guard. His laughter filled the space between them, his eyes crinkling with amusent as he leaned back in his chair.
"Your face, Valeria," he managed while still in between chuckles, "absolutely priceless. I wish I could capture that look forever."
She scowled, arms crossing tightly over her chest. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," he teased, his grin widening, "here you are. So, go on. Guess."
Valeria narrowed her eyes, feeling the familiar mix of irritation and exasperation that always accompanied Lucavion's antics. Still, there was sothing oddly disarming about him in monts like these. She felt a faint tug of relaxation—a sense of ease that she couldn't quite put into words.
'Why do I feel like this around him?' she couldn't help but wonder. She knew that wasn't comfort to be exact. It was… soothing, maybe? She didn't know the right word, but whatever it was, it would leave her oddly at peace.
Shaking off the thought, Valeria straightened in her seat, her expression sharpening as she tried to focus. "Fine," she said briskly. "If you insist. A fire that's cold and… destructive." Her brows furrowed as she tried to piece the information together. "I don't know, Lucavion. How am I supposed to guess that?"
"Take your ti," he replied, his tone dripping with amusent. "I'll wait."
She glared at him, her mind racing. It made no sense—flas that devour without heat, one that would chill instead of burn. No matter how she twisted the logic, her mind refused to settle into anything coherent. After letting out a frustrated sigh, she finally leaned back in her chair and waved her hands in defeat.
"I don't know," she admitted reluctantly. "How am I supposed to know sothing so ridiculous?"
Lucavion raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into sothing akin to genuine surprise. "Heh?" He leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "The great Valeria Olarion, admitting she doesn't know sothing? Never thought I'd live to see the day."
"Don't push your luck," she snapped, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. "I don't have the ti to entertain your riddles."
"Relax, Valeria," Lucavion chuckled, leaning back with his usual ease. "I wasn't expecting you to figure it out. It's not exactly common knowledge. But," he added, his tone turning more contemplative, "I like that you tried."
She frowned at his words, her irritation giving way to a flicker of curiosity. "You like that I tried?"
He nodded, his grin softening. "Most people wouldn't bother. They'd brush it off, call it nonsense, or just pretend they already knew. But you? You actually thought it through. I respect that."
Valeria blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, unsure how to respond, so she simply looked away, her gaze settling on the flickering flas in the hearth.
Lucavion leaned forward again, the usual playful glint in his eyes giving way to sothing quieter, more reflective. "My fire," he began, his voice lower now, "is sothing only I can wield in this world."
Valeria's eyes narrowed, skepticism imdiately sharpening her tone. "What's that supposed to an? You're just throwing cryptic nonsense at now."
His smirk didn't falter, but there was a faint seriousness beneath it, a shadow of sothing deeper. "It ans exactly what I said. My flas are the accumulation of two forces: [Life] and [Death]."
Her breath caught and confusion flickered across her face. "Life and death? What does that even an?" She straightened in her seat, disbelief edging her tone. "You're talking as if you're so kind of… anomaly. Humans don't command death, Lucavion. That's black magic territory."
"Ah, black magic," he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied her reaction. "You're not wrong—black magic does dabble in death energy. But what I do? It's nothing like that."
Valeria frowned, her thoughts racing to piece together his words. "Black magic doesn't harness death energy in the mage's core," she said slowly, her voice tinged with caution. "Because it's impossible to do so. Death mana is inherently incompatible with a living body—it can't be contained or cultivated. So whatever you're claiming doesn't make sense."
Lucavion chuckled softly, his sound almost resigned. "You're right again, in theory. Death mana isn't sothing a living being can control, at least not without paying a heavy price. But my flas… they're different."
"How different?" she pressed, her voice now sharper and a strange unease prickling at the back of her mind.
He leaned back, his gaze distant as he stared into the fire. "The flas are born from balance," he said quietly. "From the tension between life and death within . Life provides the fuel, the foundation. Death offers the void, the consuming force. Together, they create sothing… unique."
Valeria stared at him, disbelief mingling with a rising sense of unease. His words defied every fundantal truth she'd been taught about mana, magic, and the human body. "That's impossible," she said firmly. "You can't just… balance life and death like that. It's not natural."
"Who said I'm natural?" Lucavion replied, his smirk returning, though it lacked its usual edge.
Her heart skipped a beat at his words. For the first ti, she couldn't tell if he was joking. His gaze, steady and unflinching, seed to challenge her, daring her to probe deeper.
"What are you?" she whispered, almost to herself. But even as the question slipped her lips, she wasn't sure whether she wanted the answer.
Lucavion's chuckle broke the heavy silence, warm and rich as he leaned further back. His smirk widened, now tinged with a playful edge. "What am I?" he echoed, the words lingering in the air. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That, Valeria, is for you to discover."
Her breath hitched for a mont, the weight of their exchange still hanging over her. But as his playful tone registered, a wave of irritation swept through her. Her jaw tightened, and her narrowed eyes flashed with anger.
"You!" she snapped, sitting up straighter. "You're teasing again, aren't you? I knew it! This whole ridiculous story about balancing life and death—it's just another one of your gas."
Lucavion grinned, his amusent deepening. "Believe what you will, Lady Valeria. What you choose to believe is entirely up to you."
She opened her mouth to retort but found herself hesitating. Everything about his deanor—the smirk, the tone, the casual shrug—scread that he was toying with her. And yet… there was sothing in his earlier tone, a flicker of sothing too genuine, too heavy to be dismissed as a re teasing.
Her hands clenched into fists on her lap, her frustration mounting. "If you're going to spout nonsense," she said sharply, "at least make it believable."
"Believable?" Lucavion arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Now, that's an interesting demand. But tell , what counts as believable, Valeria? The limits of what you've seen? What you've been taught? Or sothing else entirely?"
His words struck a nerve, and Valeria clenched her teeth. "Don't lecture ," she snapped, though her voice wavered. Deep down, a small voice whispered that he wasn't entirely wrong.
Lucavion chuckled again, softer this ti, as though he could sense the storm of doubt swirling within her. "Whether you believe or not," he said lightly, "changes nothing. But here's a thought—sotis, the truth isn't about what makes sense. Sotis, it's about what feels right."
Valeria frowned as he leaned back in her chair, her thoughts churning. She wanted to dismiss his words, to write them off as yet another attempt to provoke her. But his calm, deliberate tone lingered in her thoughts, leaving her unsettled.
She wanted to believe that he was joking. She needed to believe it. And yet, a tiny part of her heart, treacherous and insistent, whispered that he wasn't.
But there was no way to prove it. No way to know for sure. And that, more than anything, made her blood boil.
"Bastard," she muttered under her breath, her gaze fixed firmly on the fire. But her tone lacked venom, and her thoughts a tangled ss. Lucavion, ever the enigma, simply smiled.
KNOCK!
Just then the sudden knock at the door cut the tension.
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