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The horizontal hilt of the katar in his hands felt just like it had all those years ago when he had held it for the first time. It was an old blade, yet pristine. Amias held it up and watched the blade. His blue eyes looked back at him from the surface of the katar. His bare chest drank in the morning air as he put his foot forward, stabbing the katar through the air in one swift motion.

And then began his dance, as he swayed around- his legs in sync with the movements of his hands and the blade slashing through the wind. The world seemed to quiet down and so did the noises in his head as all that mattered was the sound of the blade and the feel of it in his hands.

He closed his eyes. The darkness of the morning surrounded him and so did the cold that encased his bare torso in a sinister vice. But soon he felt the warmth- the gentle warmth run up his skin, fighting the unwelcome cold. The darkness ran away as red light fell upon his closed eyelids.

Amias opened his eyes, a smile on his face as he watched the flames that danced on the blade. They flared up when he wanted them to, and dulled down in obedience when he asked for it. They started off with a silent blue, all the way up to their fiery tips that were bathed in bloody orange. He flung the katar upwards and it flew through the air- the flames running just as strongly until he commanded them to end in a spectacular flare-out, sending sparks of amber in every direction.

Extending his arm out, he showed his bare palm to the sky and just like that the katar fell right into it. The blade was still hot but Amias loved the heat. He loved how his nerves felt so alive because of it. The heat gave him a rush, something he could never part from. Nothing was more beautiful than a burning fire - nothing could ever be so full of life or power or radiance like the flames that danced on his finger tips.

Nothing, but her.

He remembered the day he had first seen her in the city square, eight years ago. He remembered how he loved running barefoot in the square- something which at that time, gave him immense amount of joy and made him feel free. It was inappreciable or trivial to those who saw him. They often thought him to be a rich, spoilt child who found new ways to bring trouble to his parents. Amias belonged to the Seigel bloodline - one of the elite families of the Aries Circle. His family was respected throughout the lands of the Fire Clan. Along with the name came behaviour and responsibilities. But he couldn't care less about that. Neither had he paid much attention to disapproving glares of the people around him. They never quite understood how even the smallest of things like feeling the cold gravel under his feet or the warmth of Pyralis air, could bring so much joy to a boy who had always been held back by his punctilious parents and etiquettes. 

Amias remembered the scent of the summer air, the noise of the market and the feel of the gravel on that day. He remembered how he had watched the people in the streets- caught up with their own thoughts and worries, those who pushed him aside cursing him, others who shook their troubled heads at him- but just one little girl, who smiled at him from behind a wall.

She wore blue rags. He remembered thinking that his parents would call her a dirty little girl from one of the down-at-heel areas who knew no such thing as cleanliness. But all he saw was her radiant face, her dark brown hair and that smile she gave him soon accompanied by a giggle. He had roamed these streets many a time before but never had he seen anything of this kind. Something that burned brighter than the sun, full of warmth and joy. Someone who could feel what he felt and one who smiled wider than he ever had.

He remembered how his heart had ached when he had seen her smile. A feeling he could never erase from his memory as he felt it every time she smiled. Never had he seen anything more perfect. Sera’s smile hadn’t changed over the years. What had changed now, was how she hesitated before letting herself smile.

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