The temple walls shook as the horns blared. Outside, the night ripped open in chaos. Three banners snapped in the storm:

The Council’s silver falcon, descending from the cliffs with disciplined soldiers in steel.

The Fire Clan’s crimson blaze, rebels wielding wild flame, rushing to meet them.

The Shadowborn’s black serpent, Mira’s assassins sliding in like living smoke.

Steel clashed. Arrows cut the rain. The air reeked of ash, blood, and storm.

Riyan’s hand closed around Anaya’s wrist.

Riyan (fierce): “Now, Anaya. Run.”

They sprinted through the temple ruins as Mira’s voice tore after them.

Mira (screaming): “You’ll regret this! Both of you!”

Shadows whipped across their path, blades glinting. Riyan’s lightning struck, scattering assassins in a blinding arc. Anaya’s fire flared, scorching their escape route open. Together, storm and flame- they carved a path through armies that wanted them dead.

By the time they broke free, rain poured like the sky itself was collapsing. The battlefield vanished behind the sheets of water, but the horns still echoed, chasing them.

At last, breathless and drenched, they stumbled into a half-ruined watchtower hidden deep in the woods.

Anaya collapsed against the stone, chest heaving. Fire still burned at her fingertips, flickering weakly.

Anaya (hoarse, exhausted): “I… I can’t… not anymore.”

Riyan crouched before her, water dripping from his dark hair, lightning fading from his veins. He brushed wet strands from her face, his touch lingering just a second too long.

Riyan (low, rough): “You’re stronger than any of them. But you don’t always have to fight alone.”

Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. His eyes, stormy, unrelenting- held her in place.

The rain outside roared, but inside the tower the silence grew heavy. Clothes clung to their skin, every breath steaming in the chill air.

Anaya tried to look away. Tried to remind herself of her clan, of Mira’s desperate plea, of the oath she had once sworn. But the warmth radiating from him cut through the cold like fire.

Anaya (whisper, trembling): “If I trust you… I lose everything.”

Riyan (leaning closer, voice dark silk): “Or you finally gain something that’s yours.”

Her breath caught. His face was so close now, rainwater glistening on his jaw, his hand braced beside her head. The space between them narrowed until it was unbearable.

The storm thundered, rattling the tower. Anaya’s pulse thundered louder. She felt herself leaning in, drawn by a pull she could no longer deny.

Her lips parted-

His gaze dropped-

And then-

A loud crack split the air.

The watchtower’s door shuddered violently. Voices outside. Soldiers.

They froze, breathless, locked in that almost-kiss, the storm demanding its answer.

Riyan (murmuring against her lips): “Choose, Anaya. Me… or them.”