The council’s decision came at dawn. Ethan and Maya were to be sent east, not with an army, not with guards—alone. The official reason was reconnaissance, but both of them heard the unspoken truth: the council wanted to test them. Or expend them.
They departed before the sun was high, traveling light, cloaked in the plain garb of wanderers. For hours, they spoke little, the road winding through scrubland and stone, the horizon smudged with smoke.
It was near dusk, when they made camp in the shell of a ruined watchtower, that silence finally broke.
Maya sat by the embers, turning the quill she used to write in her journal idly in her hand. “Do you ever think about what happens after?” she asked suddenly.
Ethan looked up from feeding wood into the fire. “After The Demon King dies?”
“After all of it,” she said. “If we win. If the oath breaks. If we… go back.”
The words hung between them, sharp as steel. Ethan hadn't even considered that before. Could the Oath actually break? Arathen appeared to not think so, but Maya bringing up the possibility forced him to think about it.
Ethan set the wood aside. The firelight carved his features into planes of shadow and gold. “I think about it all the time,” he admitted, at least to them going back. He wasn't sure about anything else she brought up. “And every time I do, the picture gets harder to hold onto.”
Maya tilted her head. “Because you don’t think we’ll survive?”
“Because I don’t know who I am anymore,” he said. His voice was steady, but his hands flexed restlessly. “Back home I was no one. Here I’m a weapon. But with you…” He stopped, teeth gritting. He wondered if he was admitting something too soon. Something that would scare her away. Before he could think on it more, his feelings poured out, “With you, I feel like maybe I’m something else. Something greater. Something worth being.”
The bond pulsed at his words, heat flaring through both their chests. Maya’s breath caught. “Ethan…” she whispered, but he pressed on, as if afraid silence would steal his courage.
“I don’t know if this ends with us dead, or chained, or—hell, maybe even winning. But the only thing I’m sure of anymore is that I can’t do this without you. And I don’t want to.” Ethan couldn't help himself any longer. The floodgates had opened. Feelings had blossomed within him much faster than he expected them to. They had been through hell, hot water, and everything in-between. He felt as though this outcome was inevitable.
The fire crackled, filling the space his confession left. Maya’s hand tightened on her quill before she put it away, reaching instead for his. “You think I’m strong,” she said, echoing his words from the garden. “But it’s you. You’re the one who makes me believe we can face this. You’re the one who makes me want to fight at all. If I was brought here by myself, I'm...I'm not sure if I would have made it this far.”
Ethan’s breath hitched. The bond thrummed, deeper now, almost audible, a low hum threading through their blood.
Maya swallowed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t know what happens after, Ethan. But I know I want you there with me.”
For a long moment, he searched her face—uncertain, disbelieving. Their eyes shimmered against the fire, feeling their feelings bare. Then, as if something inside him finally broke free, he closed the distance between them.
The kiss was not gentle, not practiced. It was fire and hunger and the desperate ache of two souls bound too tightly to deny. Maya’s hand fisted in his cloak, pulling him closer. Ethan’s fingers tangled in her hair, trembling with the force of everything he couldn’t say.
The bond flared bright, searing through them both—not pain, but a resonance so deep it left them gasping. For an instant, they felt not just each other, but togetherness—one heartbeat, one breath, one flame.
When they broke apart, foreheads resting together, the world felt sharper, heavier. And yet, for the first time, they didn’t feel alone in it.
Maya smiled faintly, breathless. “Well. That answers that.”
Ethan laughed softly, ragged but real, and kissed her again, gentler this time, as if sealing a promise neither of them dared speak aloud.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the distant sound of chanting—The Demon King’s army stirring in the dark. The war waited. But for one night, in the ruins of the watchtower, Ethan and Maya allowed themselves this fragile, dangerous truth: they belonged to each other.
Morning came softly, the ruin’s broken stones warmed by the rising sun. Ethan stirred first, the bond tugging at him even before he opened his eyes. Maya was still curled near the embers, her breathing even, strands of hair fallen across her cheek. For a moment, he only watched—half-afraid that if he looked away, she might vanish, as if the night before had been no more than a dream.
When she stirred and blinked awake, her eyes found his instantly. And for the first time since their summoning, there was no hesitation in the way they held each other’s gaze.
“Morning,” she murmured.
“Morning.” His voice came out rougher than intended.
They packed in easy silence, a rhythm that had shifted subtly overnight. His movements attuned to hers, her steps falling into his without thought. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was different.
By the time they reached the open stretch of fields beyond the tower, Maya slowed, glancing at him sidelong. “We should practice.”
Ethan arched a brow. “Here?”
“You heard the chanting last night. If the Shadowborn are moving this way, I’d rather not be caught unprepared.” Her lips quirked faintly. “Besides… I want to see what that fire of yours looks like when you’re not trying to hold it back from me.”
Something in his chest clenched at her words, but he nodded. “Alright.”
They cleared a circle in the grass, and Ethan called the soulfire. It rose in an instant—searing white and violet flames wreathed his arms, burning without consuming. He exhaled through gritted teeth, steadying the flow.
Maya raised her hand, threads of time bending in faint silver arcs. The air shimmered around her, motes of light warping like starlight seen through water. She smiled, concentration furrowing her brow. “Let’s see if I can slow your flames without breaking you in half.”
He barked a laugh, even as sweat began to bead his brow. “Comforting.”
The duel that followed was less battle and more dance. Ethan hurled a surge of fire—Maya stepped aside, the world blurring around her as time itself seemed to hesitate. She flicked her hand, and the flame stretched, slowed, giving her just enough room to glide past.
“You’re getting reckless,” she teased breathlessly.
“That’s the point,” he growled, spinning, soulfire flaring brighter. He lunged, and for an instant she caught his wrist, her chronomancy flaring—time stuttered, froze, the fire trembling mid-air like glass suspended.
Ethan stared at her, breath ragged. She had him, utterly.
But instead of striking, she simply released him, smiling in triumph. “See? You’re not the only dangerous one.”
His laugh came hoarse, chest heaving, but his grin was genuine. “Maya, you’re incredible.”
The bond pulsed at his words, not with fire this time, but with warmth—an echo of what had passed between them the night before. For a moment they stood, only feet apart, sweat and light shimmering between them, their hearts thundering in rhythm.
Then Maya sheathed her power, brushing a stray lock from her face. “Enough. We’ll need our strength.”
Ethan let his flames gutter out, flexing his scarred hands. He caught her gaze again, and though neither spoke, the unspoken truth settled deeper: their strength wasn’t separate anymore. It was entwined.
As they continued east, the landscape grew darker, the fields giving way to charred groves and scorched stone. The signs of The Demon King’s army were undeniable now—villages emptied, the earth blackened where fire had devoured homes. And though the silence between Ethan and Maya grew heavier with what lay ahead, there was no longer the same hollow fear. The bond held steady, strengthened not just by duty, but by choice.
By dusk the road bent through a shallow valley, the air thick with the sour tang of smoke. Ethan slowed first, his hand drifting instinctively toward the hilt at his belt. Maya followed his gaze, her steps faltering. Below, where a cluster of cottages should have stood, was only ruin. Charred beams jutted from the earth like broken bones. Stone walls sagged under the weight of ash. The fields around them were blackened, the soil scorched to lifeless glass.
And scattered through the wreckage were bodies.
Maya’s breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her mouth, the chronomantic shimmer at her fingertips fluttering uncontrollably. “No...” They still were not used to the sight of all this destruction. Maybe they never would be.
Ethan moved down the slope before she could stop him, boots crunching over cinders. He checked one of the bodies—a farmer, eyes staring wide at nothing, his hands still clutching a blackened hoe. Ethan swallowed hard, jaw tightening. He had no words.
Maya joined him slowly, her face pale. She knelt near a toppled cart, touching the scorched wood as if she might feel echoes of the lives it once carried. “This wasn’t random,” she said, voice thin but steady. “The Demon King wanted this seen. Wanted us to find it.”
The bond pulsed, low and painful, reflecting their shared grief. Ethan’s fists clenched, soulfire whispering at the edges of his control. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to let it blaze, to answer fire with fire. But then he felt her hand brush his, grounding him. Maya’s eyes met his, fierce despite the tremor in her voice. “Don’t give him what he wants.”
Ethan exhaled slowly, forcing the fire down, though the effort left him shaking. He nodded once, rough, and looked out over the blackened village. “We’ll stop him,” he said, though whether it was a promise or a plea, neither could tell.
Maya didn’t answer, but she tightened her grip on his hand.
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