She hadn’t seen him since he caught her. Since he saved her.

The Dragon King had vanished again into his shadows, back into the silent depths of the castle where no one dared follow. And Eira hadn’t known if she was allowed to seek him out—or if she even wanted to.

Until tonight.

The air was thick with smoke and something colder, something heavier.

She found him on one of the outer terraces, where jagged stone met the crimson sky. The stars here were never white, only red and orange—burning like dying embers in the sky.

He stood at the edge, cloak billowing, arms behind his back, unmoving.

Eira hesitated. “You saved me.”

“I had to,” he said, not turning.

“No, you didn’t,” she replied quietly.

That made him pause.

He turned then, and in the glow of the molten sky, Eira saw something different. His armor was gone. He stood in only a loose black shirt, his pale skin catching the red light like marble veined with fire.

Scars ran down his arms.

Old ones.

Deep.

Eira swallowed. “You’ve fought before.”

“I’ve lost before,” he said.

His voice was lower than usual, like a wind pushing through ash.

“I don’t fear death,” he continued. “Not mine. Not really. But yours…” His golden eyes locked on hers. “It would have meant I failed again.”

Eira’s breath caught.

“What did you lose?”

He looked away.

The wind picked up, whirling ash around them like snow.

“I’ve buried more than you can count,” he said. “Kingdoms. Loved ones. Enemies. Myself.” He touched one of the scars absently. “But some things refuse to stay buried.”

The tension was heavy—but not threatening.

Intimate.

Eira stepped closer, emboldened by his honesty. “You hide in this mountain like it’s a cage.”

“It is a cage,” he whispered. “But it’s one I forged.”

She wanted to ask more—who he had lost, why he was still here, what still haunted him—but something in his eyes told her not yet.

Instead, she asked, “Why didn’t you let me fall?”

“Because I...” he started, then stopped. His gaze fell on her lips for the briefest second before flicking away. “Because you’re different.”

Eira’s heart skipped.

She wanted to look away—but didn’t.

“You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to,” he said, voice lower now. “I feel it. The mountain doesn’t reject you. It watches you. Like it’s waiting.”

The tension between them simmered again—unspoken, unfamiliar, and dangerously close to something more.

She took a breath, stepping even closer, their bodies nearly touching.

“And you?” she asked. “Are you waiting too?”

He looked down at her then—truly looked.

And for a second, his hand reached toward her cheek... only to stop midair.

“I’m not ready to answer that.”

Eira nodded slowly, pulse racing, and turned back toward the corridor.

But as she walked away, she could feel his eyes still on her—burning like flame against her back.

And in the distance, just barely audible through the tunnels of the mountain, the song began again.

Faint.

Luring.

Unanswered.