They didn’t speak as they left the village behind.

  Not at first.

  The trees swallowed the path quickly, curling close again like the forest wanted to hide what they’d seen. What they'd *felt*.

  Astrid glanced back once — just once.

  And froze.

  The village was still there.

  Then it wasn’t.

  She blinked.

  Where crooked rooftops had stood, there was now only clearing.

  Not broken.

  Not burnt.

  Just... empty.

  Like it had never been there at all.

  A faint breeze brushed her cheek.

  She caught the flicker of ash drifting through the trees — faint, weightless, gone before she could breathe it in.

  Her stomach twisted.

  Ahead of her, Kurai didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

  His hands were jammed into his sleeves. Shoulders hunched.

  Still walking like the vision hadn’t shaken him.

  But Astrid saw the tightness in his jaw.

  The way his steps clipped short.

  The way his hands trembled when he thought she wasn’t watching.

  He wasn’t fine.

  And that scared her more than anything else had.

  ---

  They made camp at the edge of a low ridge, where the trees thinned just enough to see the sky — clouds rolling in, heavy with the promise of rain.

  Kurai knelt by the firepit, arranging the kindling with silent precision.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Astrid set down her pack and crouched beside him.

  "You should rest."

  "I’m fine."

  "You’re not."

  He didn’t answer.

  Just struck a flint against his fingers, sparking the fire to life — magic a little too sharp, a little too tight.

  Astrid sat beside him. "You don’t have to explain everything. But you need sleep."

  "I said I’m fine."

  She touched his wrist gently.

  "Then prove it. Sleep. Just for a while."

  He looked at her — tired, hollowed — but didn’t argue.

  He nodded once.

  Astrid watched him as he lay down, arms still crossed like he couldn’t quite let go.

  The fire crackled quietly.

  His eyes closed.

  But she could feel it — the tension still thrumming under his skin.

  Something wasn’t done with him yet.

  ---

  At first, there was only the fire.

  Crackling. Predictable. Safe.

  Astrid’s steady presence was the only thing anchoring him.

  But even that started to drift.

  The warmth behind his eyelids shifted — not comfort now, but weight.

  He drifted.

  Weightless.

  For a moment, there was only warmth.

  Arms — vast, scaled, gold and black — cradling him like something precious.

  A voice whispered through the flame, not in words but in feeling:

  You are not alone.

  He wanted to believe it.

  God, he wanted to.

  And then—

  Astrid.

  Kneeling beside him in the firelight.

  Not afraid.

  Not scorched.

  Just... watching.

  She reached out, brushing his face with her fingers.

  No pain. No burning.

  Only her.

  The ache inside him — the one he never spoke of — pulled tighter.

  What do you want from me?

  But her smile was soft.

  Knowing.

  And then —

  the warmth twisted.

  The arms vanished.

  The golden sky darkened.

  Astrid’s shape faded like smoke.

  The ground cracked open.

  He was falling.

  Or floating.

  Or just breaking apart.

  The voice returned — hollow now:

  You were made. Not born.

  You are not theirs.

  You are not hers.

  "You are fire."

  "You are ruin."

  The light turned red.

  Then black.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  The fire inside clawed upward — wild, bitter, hungry.

  He screamed—

  And woke to flames.

  ---

  Astrid’s voice cut through the smoke.

  "Kurai!"

  The world was burning.

  His hands were glowing.

  The trees shimmered under a storm of rising heat.

  Smoke curled into the sky.

  He stumbled to his feet, heart pounding.

  The fire was everywhere.

  The heat was everywhere.

  And it was his.

  Shapes flickered in the haze — but only one mattered.

  Astrid.

  Through the smoke, reaching for him.

  Not running.

  Not afraid.

  Just reaching.

  And that’s when it hit him.

  I did this.

  The horror rose sharp and brutal.

  He didn’t have time to freeze he had to act.

  He lunged — threw himself between her and the smoke, shielding her from the choking heat with everything he had left.

  "No, no, no—" he gasped, voice cracking.

  The flames climbed higher, furious.

  Not her.

  Please. Not her.

  He could hear Astrid beginning to choke, struggling for air, clawing at her throat, thick and scorching.

  He didn’t know if he was praying or begging or both.

  He threw out his hands — not to burn.

  To stop.

  To undo.

  Please. The smoke—she can’t breathe. I’ll do anything. Just—go.

  It felt like hours had passed but it had probably only been a few minutes.

  And somehow —

  somewhere —

  something listened.

  The fire faded.

  The smoke thinned.

  The rain began — soft and sudden — hissing against scorched earth.

  Kurai was still on top of Astrid, arms shielding her, trembling so hard he could barely stay upright.

  Slowly — painfully — he looked down.

  I’m sorry. I am so sorry.

  She coughed hard, the smoke still clinging to her throat like tar.

  Her hair was damp with sweat and ash.

  But her eyes, though they were red and watery—

  They weren’t afraid.

  They were locked on him.

  Wide. Shaken.

  But full of concern.

  Not fear.

  She reached up, brushing the hair from his eyes.

  "Kurai," she said gently. "Are you okay?"

  The touch undid him.

  He’d expected anger.

  Fear.

  Rejection.

  Not this.

  Not... her.

  A sharp, quiet ache bloomed in his chest —

  something he didn’t have a name for.

  He dropped his head against her shoulder, shuddering.

  The flames hadn’t touched her. Not even close. But the smoke—

  that was what could’ve killed her.

  Her arms came up slowly around him — hesitant, but steady.

  Holding him.

  Tethering him.

  And through the lingering smoke, the rain, the ash —

  he whispered, not to her, maybe not even to himself —

  "She’s not afraid of me."

  And for the first time in his life...

  he almost believed it.