The forest smelled of lightning. The Astral Garden had been left behind, but echoes of its celestial light still shimmered on the hems of Ren's cloak. Beside him, Lyra walked in silence, their fingers occasionally brushing — too tender, too painful, too much like a wound that never healed.
They stopped at the edge of a quiet glade. The storm had passed, but the sky above was bruised purple, as if mourning the things they'd left unsaid.
Ren sat, back against the mossy trunk of an ancient tree, eyes closed. He sensed her before he heard her footsteps. Lyra crouched beside him.
"You keep staring into the distance," she said. "Are you seeing the future… or the past?"
Ren opened his eyes. "Both."
He pulled off his gloves, letting the warmth of her presence settle beside him. "Lyra," he murmured, "if you had to choose again, would you still let the gods brand you in my place?"
She turned her face away, but not before he saw the flicker of guilt. "I don't regret saving you."
"But do you regret loving me?"
She froze.
In the silence that followed, Ren reached for her hand, his fingers curling gently around hers.
"You held me," he whispered, "when I was nothing but flame and fury. You held me like I was the war, and still… you never let go."
Lyra turned slowly, her face close to his. "Because I was already burning long before I met you."
Their lips met again, softer this time, not urgent like the rain-soaked kiss in the ruins — but reverent, like a promise born from pain.
Ren's hand slid into her hair, anchoring her to the present. She leaned into him, her chest pressed to his, breaths mingling.
When he pulled back, his eyes were glazed with something more than just longing.
"I don't want to be worshipped," he said. "Not by you. I want to fall with you. I want to be undone."
She smiled faintly, eyes wet. "Then let's fall together."
They lay back in the grass, side by side. The stars blinked open above them, and for the first time, Ren Zian let the world go quiet around him. No gods. No flames. No fate.
Just a girl with stardust on her cheeks… and a boy who finally understood what it meant to love and be loved.
The quiet was shattered when Nyelle burst into the clearing.
"We have a problem," she said. "The Sixth Flame has chosen a bearer — and it's not one of us."
Ren rose to his feet instantly. "Who?"
Nyelle's eyes flickered with firelight. "An old name. One we thought lost. Her name is Cerys."
Lyra stiffened. "No. She's dead."
"Apparently not," Nyelle said. "And she's coming for you, Ren."
The glade darkened. Ren clenched his fists. "Then we meet her in the Valley of Mirrors. At dawn."