The leaves trembled. The wind stopped.

Ameera clenched her fists into the dirt.

“Any last words, General?” Sylon said, the tip of his sword now grazing the back of her hijab.

Ameera glanced at her spear across her. Its shine receded. She watched as the life slowly drained out of it. Her control was gone.

“Every day.” She muttered. Her armor now weighed more than before “Every. Single. Day. I try filling in his footsteps… knowing they were always too big to fill.”

The leaves stopped. As if to listen.

“General Xyzen is… was unmatched. I could never measure up to him.”

“And you never will.” Sylon’s lips curled into a cold thin smile, “Afterall, you’re nothing but a—“

“Human, yes.”

The spear hummed. It zapped right into her grip.

Ameera flung the dirt into Sylon’s eyes.

“AHHH!”

She swept her leg beneath his feet. A wide arc.

The commander stumbled backwards.

CLANGGG!!

“But I am Avalorn’s future.”

Her blade clashed against his sword, sending it clattering across the forest floor.

“No!—“

CLANGG!!

She rammed her spear into his shoulder.

“It’s Blade.”

Sylon uttered another cry.

The shoulder plate of his armor wedged right off.

“It’s hope.”

He fell to the ground.

Ameera summoned her spear into something new. The metal burned gold. It curled and twisted and narrowed into a runeblade. It’s mystical carvings hummed with energy.

“I am Ameera Aziz.” She pointed the tip of her runeblade at his neck, fixing the end of her hijab with her free hand.

“Heir of his title.”

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of the fallen commander’s forehead. For a flick of a second, he could’ve sworn he saw the vision of General Xyzen behind her.

“And I’m not letting my worth be defined by someone whose jurisdiction is governed by hatred and rage.”

Sylon swallowed hard. His throat hurt like stone scraping the insides.

“You… fight like him.” Sylon said, his voice gruff, “But you’ll never be him.”

“I won’t be.” She lowered her sword. “He never wanted me to be.”

For a while, none of them spoke. A blue bird chirped and flicked among the leaves.

They were both grieving.

The commander lost his wife. The scar on his eye was just a reminder of his failure.

She lost her mentor. Her compass. She was now left to navigate a map of her own.

“In’sha Allah, Someday.” Ameera said, walking past him. “I hope you and I move past our differences.”

The wind took course again. It blew past her, rippling her deep purple cape. Leaves swirled around her ankles as if to welcome her into the woods mystic foliage.