The air in Dementia remained icy, the stillness of the barren expanse broken only by the soft breathing of Ice Phoenix in her human form. She sat perched on a jagged, frozen peak, her usually composed demeanor fractured by the flood of emotions she had released. Arfrotian stood a short distance away, his figure cast in sharp relief against the pale blue glow of the frozen wasteland. His arms were crossed, his expression cold and calculating as ever, yet there was a softness in his stance that betrayed his intentions—he was not there to judge her but to console her.

Ice Phoenix’s human form, now more vulnerable than it had been in eons, betrayed her inner turmoil. Tears still glistened on her cheeks, freezing into delicate, crystalline patterns before falling silently to the ground. She looked at Arfrotian with a mixture of confusion, gratitude, and suspicion.

“You don’t have to anymore,” Arfrotian had said before, and now those words echoed in her mind like the haunting melody of a forgotten lullaby. She turned to him abruptly, her pale blue eyes narrowing, though her voice wavered with uncertainty.

“What did you mean by that?” she asked, her tone sharper than intended. “What do you mean, I don’t have to anymore?”

Arfrotian met her gaze steadily, his icy blue eyes unreadable. He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer, his voice calm and measured as he replied.

“I meant exactly what I said,” he began. “You’ve been carrying the weight of this burden alone for far too long. You’ve borne the guilt of what happened, the duty to protect this artifact, and the solitude of your existence. But you don’t have to anymore. Not alone.”

The simplicity of his words struck Ice Phoenix like a sharp gust of wind, cutting through her defenses. She took a step back, her wings—glowing faintly with icy hues in her human form—trembling slightly.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice faltering. “Why would you go to such lengths for someone like me? Someone who… who tried to take your life?”

Her voice broke at the last words, her frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface. Arfrotian, the ever-calm strategist, only smiled faintly, a rare expression that softened the sharp edges of his otherwise stoic face.

“Do I need a reason to help someone who needs it?” he asked, his voice low yet steady. “You were going to break down under the weight of it all anyway—your frustrations, your duties, your burdens. Even the strongest ice cracks under pressure. I didn’t defeat you just for the sake of it. I wanted to understand you, to know why you were guarding this place so fiercely. And now I do.”

Ice Phoenix stared at him, her mind racing to comprehend his words. She had lived for eons as the solitary guardian of Dementia, convinced that no one would ever share her burden, let alone care about her plight. The idea that someone—especially someone as powerful as Arfrotian—would help her without any ulterior motive seemed almost absurd.

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“You’re a strange one,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze dropped to the frozen ground, the flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks.

Arfrotian chuckled softly, a sound so rare it caught her off guard. “Strange? Maybe. But isn’t it stranger to think you have to carry this all alone?”

Her head snapped up, her expression a mixture of indignation and something she couldn’t quite place—hope. She opened her mouth to retort but hesitated. Instead, she looked away, the faint blush on her cheeks deepening.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice laced with genuine gratitude. “For… for listening to my story. I never thought I’d share it with anyone, let alone someone as persistent as you.”

Arfrotian nodded, his smile fading into a more serious expression. “You don’t have to thank me. Sometimes, all someone needs is for another to listen. And you… you’ve been keeping this inside for too long.”

Ice Phoenix’s wings folded closer to her back as she wrapped her arms around herself, both to shield herself from the cold and to hide the vulnerability she now felt. She glanced at Arfrotian from the corner of her eye, her tone softening as she continued.

“But you don’t need to overwork yourself with my problems,” she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and disbelief. “I’ve been managing this for eons. You’ve done enough just by listening.”

Arfrotian shook his head, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’ve already told you—I’ll help you carry this burden. You’ve done enough alone. Now, it’s time to share the weight.”

His words struck a chord deep within her, resonating with emotions she had buried long ago. For so long, she had believed that solitude was her penance, that the catastrophe wrought by the Eternal Frostheart was her burden alone to bear. And yet, here was this man—this calculating, cold, and unfathomably powerful man—offering to share her pain.

Ice Phoenix felt her cheeks grow warmer, the blush now undeniable. She turned away, trying to compose herself, but her voice betrayed her flustered state.

“You’re… you’re insufferable,” she muttered, though there was no venom in her words. She glanced back at him, her expression softer, more vulnerable. “But… thank you. Truly.”

Arfrotian said nothing, merely nodding in acknowledgment. His calm demeanor never wavered, but there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at satisfaction—not from her gratitude, but from the fact that she had finally allowed herself to open up.

As Ice Phoenix stood there, her gaze lingering on Arfrotian, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t experienced in eons: hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, she had found someone who could be trusted. Someone who, despite his cold exterior, had a warmth that melted through the barriers she had built around her heart.

The silence stretched between them, but it was no longer oppressive. It was a silence of understanding, of mutual respect. Ice Phoenix’s blush deepened as she realized she had been staring at him for too long. She quickly looked away, her wings fluttering nervously.

“I still don’t understand you,” she said finally, her voice tinged with both frustration and admiration. “But… maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Arfrotian’s faint smile returned, a subtle curve of his lips that carried more meaning than words. “You’ll understand in time,” he said simply.

And with that, the ice between them began to thaw—not in the literal sense, for the frozen landscape of Dementia remained as desolate as ever, but in the sense of a connection forming between two souls who had found each other in the most unlikely of circumstances.

For the first time in eons, Ice Phoenix felt the warmth of someone else’s presence—not as a threat, but as a comfort. And though she couldn’t fully grasp why Arfrotian had chosen to help her, she found herself daring to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she didn’t have to bear her burdens alone anymore.