The Outergod's Avatar-Chapter 69: Training with Lyzah (2)

After healing all of Izikel’s wounds, Lyzah finally began her own training. She took a few steps away from him, rolled her shoulders, and pressed her fingers to the earth. Her brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a thin line.

She was trying to make vines grow—something that still seemed to strain her despite all their recent progress. To Izikel, it looked like she was putting her entire soul into the effort.

The ground pulsed once, like something beneath was stirring. A heartbeat later, it bulged. Slender green vines broke through the soil, twisting upward in wild, erratic motions. They lashed around like untamed serpents before retreating back into the earth with a soft hiss, disappearing as quickly as they’d come.

"That’s good," Izikel said, walking closer. "The length and size have increased. You’re improving." His voice was steady, even a bit encouraging. He gave her a warm smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was genuine enough to lighten the mood.

Lyzah didn’t seem to agree. "I still didn’t have full control of it," she hissed, frustration seeping through her tone. She clenched her fists, dirt staining her fingertips.

Izikel glanced up at the sky. The sun was already beginning its lazy descent, golden light slicing through the leaves. "It’s past noon. We must’ve been out here for hours."

She looked at him, annoyed. "So?"

"So," he stretched his arms above his head, "we can continue tomorrow. Sophia’s probably looking for us by now."

"But I’m not even tired!" she protested, crossing her arms and frowning.

"Well, I am," he said, half-joking. "And I’m thirsty too. Can we please go back now? Besides, you’ve made considerable progress. When we started, you could hardly make a leaf grow."

Lyzah hesitated, her expression softening just a little. She couldn’t argue with that. In truth, she’d come a long way—mostly thanks to him.

"As your training instructor, I declare we are done for the day," he said with mock authority, raising his chin pridefully but in a playful manner.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But if you’re really that thirsty, there’s a stream not too far from here. I’ll take you."

They began walking, the dense canopy above casting mottled shadows on the forest floor. The air was heavy with the scent of moss and blooming foliage. Birds chirped overhead. Everything around them felt alive.

As they moved in silence, Izikel noticed a small smile tugging at the corners of Lyzah’s lips.

"Why are you smiling like that? It’s creeping me out," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"It’s nothing," she replied, still smiling. "I’m just... thankful that you agreed to train with me. The truth is, now that Felvin is gone, there’s no one else I could’ve asked."

Izikel looked ahead, not meeting her eyes. "I don’t know why you’re thanking me. I didn’t do it just for you."

That wasn’t entirely true. Although he told himself this was about getting stronger, there was no denying that Lyzah had become a part of his reason for staying active. Training with her was a distraction from darker thoughts—and from the looming reality that the flames of the Altar were slowly burning out. At least this way, he wasn’t just sitting around waiting for death.

"Still," she said softly, "there was no one else."

"What about the other druids?" he asked. "I’m sure there are plenty who’d be eager to help out the chief’s daughter."

"Probably," she admitted, "but most of them are just healers. Only a few have any control over plants, and even fewer know how to use it effectively in combat. They wouldn’t have your insight."

He snorted. "What insight? I’ve just given you a few pointers based on my powers"

’and some things I remember reading in works of fiction from my past life’

"Exactly. That’s more than most."

Izikel frowned, processing her words. "Then what about the chief himself? Or your mother? She is a divine druid, isn’t she?"

Lyzah’s smile faded.

"My mother died after giving birth to me," she said, voice quiet. "I never got to know her. And my father... all he ever cares about is the Old Tree. He barely sees me."

Her words hung in the air like mist. Izikel glanced at her, saw the pain hidden behind her eyes. She smiled again, but it was forced.

"Still, all the more reason to be thankful I have you, right?"

Izikel didn’t know what to say. He just nodded, staring at the path ahead.

’She really has had a sad life’ he thought.

They veered off the trail and stepped into a clearing that made Izikel halt in his tracks.

A field stretched before them, painted with thousands of wildflowers. The air shimmered with color—yellows, purples, blues, reds—like the earth had been dipped in paint. The sun kissed the petals, setting the field aglow with warm, living light.

"I’ve never seen anything like this," he whispered.

Lyzah didn’t look back. "Oh, you’ve forgotten?" she said with a mischievous grin. "We used to come here all the time."

As they stepped further into the field, something strange happened. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The flowers lifted.

At first Izikel thought he imagined it. But no, the petals were rising—unfolding into delicate creatures that floated on gossamer wings. Hundreds of them took flight, catching the sun like stained glass.

"Bloomwings," Lyzah said. "They only live for a few days. They come out when the heat is highest."

She held out her hand, and a few of the creatures fluttered near her palm, their wings humming gently.

"They’re beautiful," Izikel breathed.

He ran his fingers through the flowers, and more bloomwings took to the sky in waves, like dandelion seeds caught in a breeze. The air shimmered with motion.

"Come on," Lyzah said, suddenly bolting forward. "You have to run through it at least once!"

"What—wait!"

She was already laughing and running, disturbing thousands of bloomwings that danced in her wake. Izikel watched her for a heartbeat before following with a grin.

The field exploded around them, the air alive with wings and color. They ran until their legs gave out, until their lungs burned, until the joy of it erased everything else.

Finally, they collapsed side by side on a patch of soft grass near a low hill, breathless and flushed.

"I thought you hated joy," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"What would give you that idea?" he asked, squinting at the sky.

She rolled her eyes. "You’ve just been... different ever since the accident. Like you’re a totally different person."

Izikel looked away, "Well, good thing we both know that’s impossible."

The sun peeked through the bloomwings circling above, casting a halo of light around them. Lyzah rolled onto her side and looked at him.

"Let’s go to the stream," she said, smiling again—this time, soft and genuine. "It’s the perfect weather for a swim."

Izikel smiled back, feeling lighter than he had in days. "Why not?"

He rose to his feet and offered her his hand. It was a nice feeling, seeing her like this.