By Kael
She was still asleep.
Not beside me, of course. We weren't that reckless.
Not here.
Two days had passed since the festival. Since the hotel. Since her skin had burned under my hands and her mouth had found mine like we'd been waiting lifetimes for it. Since we'd stopped pretending.
Now we were back at the cottage.
Thalen was still in the other room, probably already awake. The man barely slept. And Maeryn... Maeryn was curled beneath a worn blanket on the small cot near the window, her breathing deep and even.
I stood in the doorway for a moment longer than I should have, just watching her.
Her hair spilled across the pillow like blood and coal. One bare arm tucked under her head. Her back rose and fell slowly, smooth and steady.
I couldn't stop staring.
She was too much. Too real. Too impossible.
Beautiful wasn't the right word.
She was radiant. Raw. Dangerous. And somehow, still... soft, when no one else was looking. Not fragile, no. Never that. But full of something rare. Something sacred.
And gods, she had chosen me.
That thought kept looping in my head like it didn't belong there. Like it had slipped in by accident and hadn't been caught yet.
I moved into the kitchen, quietly, setting the kettle over the flame. Thalen wasn't in sight, but his boots were near the door. He'd be back soon.
I rubbed my face and leaned on the counter.
She made me feel like more than what I was. Not a blade. Not a shadow.
Just a man.
Footsteps behind me. I turned.
Maeryn stood in the doorway, wrapped in a heavy blanket, hair a tangled halo. She rubbed one eye and blinked at me.
—You're up early,— she mumbled.
—Old habits.
She padded across the room barefoot and leaned against the counter next to me.
—Did you sleep?
—Not really.
—Because of me?
I looked at her.
—Because of how much I want to keep you safe.
She tilted her head.
—You're not the only one doing the protecting.
—Doesn't mean I stop trying.
She smiled. Then nudged me with her elbow.
—You know I'm lucky to have you, right?
The words hit me in the chest.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
—You've got that backwards.
She reached up, touched my face.
—No. I don't.
I caught her hand, kissed her knuckles.
We didn't say anything else. We couldn't. Not here. Not with Thalen a few minutes from walking in.
But when her fingers slid into mine under the counter, hidden by the drape of her blanket, I didn't let go.
Not even when the kettle screamed to life behind us.
We didn't talk about the hotel.
Not directly.
Maeryn would catch my eye across the table and smirk when Thalen wasn't looking. I'd pass her a mug of tea, and our fingers would brush just a little longer than they should. Quiet things. Secret things.
It was enough. For now.
She trained harder in the days after. Longer hours, sharper movements. Like she had something to prove, or something to control.
I understood it more than she knew.
This morning, we met in the clearing behind the cottage, weapons in hand. The air was cold and damp, and the mist hadn't fully lifted from the moss yet.
Maeryn rolled her shoulders and tilted her head at me.
—Sword or flame?
—Both,— I said. —If you're feeling brave.
She smirked.
—I was born brave.
We circled each other. No words, just motion. Her blade came fast and low, and I barely deflected. She grinned.
—Off your game, Veyr?
—You wish.
We moved together like clockwork. She was quick, wild in her precision. Unpredictable. She fought like she thought in riddles. I fought like I didn't have time to waste.
She was winning.
Not because she overpowered me. Because she was focused. Because she made me forget that this was just sparring.
I swept low. She leapt. I pivoted. She met me head-on, blade to blade.
And then she shoved me backward into the grass, pinned me with a knee on my chest.
Her hair hung down in wild red streaks, her lips parted slightly as she caught her breath.
She looked like war and art and sex all tangled into one impossible shape.
—Yield,— she said.
I grinned up at her.
—Never.
She leaned closer.
—You already did.
I could've pulled her down right then and kissed her, consequences be damned.
Instead, I let her up. Slowly. Reluctantly.
She offered me a hand.
I took it.
Thalen stood near the treeline, arms crossed. He hadn't said a word all morning, but I knew he'd been watching.
We both did.
Maeryn turned toward him.
—What?
He raised a brow.
—Nothing. Just wondering when sparring turned into foreplay.
Maeryn snorted. I didn't react.
We left the clearing without another word.
But when we passed Thalen, I felt his eyes on my back. We both knew this couldn't stay hidden forever.
And yet… we were still choosing it.
Again and again.
Later that day, I volunteered to hunt.
Thalen needed herbs, Maeryn needed time to rest her magic, and I needed something to do before I made the mistake of pulling her into my lap in front of her almost-father.
I kept to the outer woods—where the mist thickened and the old paths felt less broken. The sun barely cut through the canopy there. The ground pulsed faintly with old magic.
Velharis was like that. Alive and always watching.
I tracked a trail of claw marks etched into bark, found traces of blood that smelled metallic but wrong. Something had passed through recently. Too fast, too quiet.
Not a beast. Not a man.
Something else.
Still, I wasn't looking for danger. I just needed air. I needed space to think, because the longer I was around her, the more I started forgetting that this wasn't permanent.
She said she was lucky to have me.
But I knew what luck felt like, and it was always temporary.
I crouched by the base of a tree, knife in hand, scraping lichen into a small pouch. My thoughts were a mess. Not because of fear. Not even because of Thalen.
Because for the first time in a long time, I wanted something I wasn't sure I was allowed to want.
Peace.
And her.
Together.
Not forever. Not yet. Just... longer than a single night.
I straightened, slung the pack over my shoulder, and turned toward the trail home. The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
But nothing moved.
Not yet.
Whatever was out there, it wasn't ready to show itself, and neither was I.
When I got back to the cottage, Thalen was the only one outside.
He sat at the workbench, grinding herbs into a paste, focused and calm as ever. The smoke from the kettle curled lazily into the breeze.
He didn't look up when he said, —You were gone longer than expected.
—Took the long way back.
—You always do.
I dropped the pouch on the table beside him.
—Bloodroot, claw moss, ironvine. Enough?
He finally glanced at the bag. Nodded.
—More than enough.
We stood in silence for a moment. He scraped the paste into a small glass jar, wiped his hands clean, then leaned back against the bench.
—You care about her.
It wasn't a question.
I didn't answer.
Thalen didn't push.
—Maeryn's been through more than most soldiers twice her age. She acts like she isn't tired, but she is.
—So am I.
—Doesn't mean she knows how to let someone else carry the weight.
—She doesn't need me to carry it.
—No,— he said. —But she might need you to stay close while she does.
I looked at him.
There was no threat in his voice. No judgment. Just a man who knew what it meant to love something and have to protect it with silence.
—We aren't anything,— I said.
—You are,— he replied. —You're just pretending you're not.
He stood, took the pouch, and walked back into the cottage.
I stayed out there a while longer.
Not because I didn't know what to say but because I knew exactly what he meant.
Maeryn was already outside when I got back.
The sun was low, brushing the trees in bronze. She stood in the clearing barefoot, her back to me, arms loose at her sides. Her hair glowed like it had swallowed the light.
She didn't speak when I approached.
She didn't need to.
The air around her shimmered slightly. Like it was holding its breath.
She exhaled slowly, raised one hand—and the flame came instantly.
It rolled across her fingers, not wild but alive. Controlled. Waiting.
She moved with it like it was part of her body, part of her breath. Not an attack, not a spell. Just... presence.
I sat on a nearby rock, quiet.
She didn't look at me, but she knew I was there.
That was how it always was. The strange, unspoken rhythm between us.
She flicked her wrist and the fire became a whip—then a spiral. Then it burst out in a perfect arc around her and vanished.
Her breathing was steady, even as sweat beaded down her neck.
She turned, finally. Walked toward me.
—I'm getting better,— she said.
—You are.
—Thalen still won't say it.
—He knows.
She stopped in front of me.
—Do you?
I stood.
—You're not just getting better, Maeryn. You're becoming something I don't even think you've seen yet.
She stared at me, eyes unreadable. Then stepped in close.
Her voice dropped.
—And what does that mean for you?
—I don't know yet,— I said. —But I'm still here, aren't I?
She touched the front of my shirt, fingers dragging down my chest like she was looking for something beneath the surface.
—Yes. You are.
Her lips were close. Close enough.
But she didn't kiss me.
She stepped back.
And returned to the center of the clearing.
Back to the flame.
And I watched.
Because she didn't need saving, but she did deserve to be seen.
---
The air changed before it happened.
I felt it first. Not the heat — the silence. The way the forest seemed to pause, like something ancient had just opened its eyes.
Maeryn stood in the middle of the clearing again, barefoot and breathless, sweat on her brow, hands glowing faint orange.
But then... something shifted.
She jerked slightly, like the power inside her had surged without warning.
—Maeryn? —I stepped forward.
She didn't answer. Her jaw clenched, hands shaking. The glow brightened.
I knew that look — control slipping through her fingers.
And then she caught fire.
Not her hands.
All of her.
Her skin, her hair, every inch of her body lit like dry wood. A silent burst — sudden and full. But she didn't scream. She didn't fall. She stood tall in the heart of it, eyes wide with something between terror and awe.
I panicked.
—Maeryn!
I ran toward her, half-prepared to throw myself into the flames — but the heat didn't touch me. It licked around her like wind and light, and she just... stood there. Not burning. Not breaking. Radiant.
She looked at her hands — fully ablaze, gold and white fire licking at her arms. Her skin shimmered beneath it, untouched.
She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
I watched as the fire around her softened — not dimmed, but became... calm. Controlled.
And then, just as suddenly, it vanished.
The clearing went still.
Maeryn stood naked in the center, smoke curling from her hair, chest rising and falling rapidly.
But she was smiling.
Wide-eyed. Shaken. Glowing.
I pulled my shirt off and crossed the clearing quickly, wrapping it around her shoulders before anyone could see her like that — even if no one was there.
Her voice was quiet.
—Did you see it?
—Yeah,— I said, barely able to breathe. —I saw it.
—I didn't burn.
—You didn't.
She looked down at her hands again. Still trembling.
—It listened to me. For the first time... it wasn't screaming.
—I know,— I said. —You were beautiful.
She laughed, breath hitching.
—I thought I was going to die.
—So did I.
I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned into me, still shaking.
We stood like that for a long time.
Then she looked up.
—Thalen needs to know.
—I know.
She nodded, eyes fierce now.
—Let's go.
We walked back toward the cottage together, smoke still curling behind us.
This wasn't a spark anymore, this was ignition.
Thalen was in the kitchen when we returned.
He didn't look up right away. Just kept grinding something in the mortar, calm as ever. But his shoulders tensed when he felt us enter.
Maeryn stepped in first, still wearing my shirt, her hair tied back hastily. Her skin smelled like smoke and magic. She moved with a different kind of weight now. Not exhaustion. Something deeper.
He finally looked at her. Then at me.
—What happened?
I opened my mouth.
But Maeryn beat me to it.
—I changed,— she said.
Thalen straightened.
—What do you mean?
She stepped forward, unafraid.
—It happened. Out there, in the clearing. My power—
—You lost control?
—No,— she said. —I took control.
Silence stretched in the room.
I watched his face, watched the way something behind his eyes shifted.
He sat down slowly.
—Tell me everything.
So we did.
Every flicker. Every second. Every heartbeat. I told him how I thought she would burn. How I was ready to run into it anyway. How she stood there, naked and unharmed, smiling like she'd touched the gods and walked away brighter.
Thalen didn't interrupt.
He just listened.
When we finished, he nodded once.
—Then it's begun.
Maeryn frowned.
—What?
—The bond. Between the flame and its bearer. It's rare. Ancient. Most don't survive it. But you...
He looked at her with something like awe.
—You became the fire. And it didn't consume you.
—It welcomed me,— she whispered.
Thalen stood, pulled a small, worn book from the top shelf and set it on the table.
—Then it's time you knew what that means.
Maeryn stepped beside him.
I stayed where I was.
Because this wasn't my moment.
This was hers.
But as she opened the book, as Thalen turned the page to reveal a sigil I didn't recognize, Maeryn looked back at me.
And I knew she wasn't alone.
Whatever came next, she wouldn't face it without me.