Within an enclosed training chamber, a calm and controlled voice echoed.
"Fire is both mercy and violence in motion, warming what it touches with a gentle hand, and consuming it with the same quiet certainty."
A dark-robed youth muttered, his gaze fixed on a fiery-haired maiden.
As he spoke, he raised one hand before her, slowly stretching his palm outward.
A simple snap, and a moment later, a flame sparked forth. It burned gently, emitting not even the slightest trace of heat. If another person were present, they would have assumed it was an illusion. After all, how could fire exist without burning?
Yet in the next instant, that illusion was shattered. The air above the flame rippled violently. Anything placed above it, regardless of material or sturdiness, was instantly reduced to ashes.
Exhaling quietly, the youth waved his arm. The flame flickering across his fingers was extinguished, replaced by an almost identical spark.
