The fire crackled low as evening settled, casting long shadows across the hollowed hilltop where they had camped. No words passed between them since Kael's transformation. The silence wasn't just awkward — it was heavy. Fragile.
Lyra sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixed on the distant stars, though her thoughts weren't in the sky.
They were still in that chasm.
Still watching him dissolve a living creature with his bare hands.
Still feeling the aftershock of his fury.
Kael hadn't come close to her since. He stayed a few paces away, tending the fire, saying nothing, but always watching — as if afraid one wrong move might shatter the thread between them.
"I should be afraid of you," Lyra said softly.
Kael didn't respond at first. The crackle of flame was the only answer.
"But I'm not," she continued. "And that scares me more than anything."
He turned to face her, slow and deliberate.
"You saw what I am."
"No," she said, standing now. "I saw what you can become."
She crossed the space between them, but didn't touch him.
"I need to know if you're still you, Kael. Because if you lose yourself… I can't pull you back."
He took a breath, eyes searching hers.
"I'm still me," he said. "But I'm close to breaking."
Lyra's expression softened — then hardened again.
"I've spent my life suppressing who I am. What I am. You say you're close to breaking, but I live there."
She turned away from him.
"And I don't have the luxury of breaking."
Kael stepped forward, hesitant.
"Then don't carry it alone."
Lyra's back stiffened.
"Last time I let someone in, they used me. They tried to take what made me different and turn it into a weapon."
Kael's voice broke. "I'd never—"
"I know," she said quickly. "But it still scares me. Because I want to trust you."
She looked over her shoulder, eyes shining with something fragile.
"And I want to fall. Into this. Into you. But I don't know if I can yet."
Kael stepped back. He nodded.
"I won't push you. But I'll stay. Until you're ready."
They stood like that — space between them, hearts open, but untouched.
Lyra walked past him toward the tent. Her hand brushed his.
A tiny flicker of magic sparked at the contact.
He didn't reach for her.
But he didn't let go either.
She lay awake for hours, the bond between them pulsing faintly. Not with desire.
With restraint.
Kael didn't sleep. He stood watch at the edge of the camp, facing outward, guarding her from the darkness — and from himself.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, Lyra whispered to the stars:
"Let me trust him. Please. Before it's too late."