He held her like she wasn’t a burden.

  Like she wasn’t too much.

  Astrid clutched the back of his shirt, breathing in the smell of damp cloth and that faint smoky scent that always clung to him.

  Her heartbeat slowed, steadying against his chest.

  For a long time, she just stayed there — letting herself be held.

  Letting herself need something.

  Kurai didn’t speak.

  He didn’t pull away.

  He just stayed, arms firm around her shoulders — like he understood that sometimes silence said more than words ever could.

  Eventually, Astrid shifted — not pulling away, just moving enough to glance up at him.

  His golden eyes met hers — steady, unguarded in a way she rarely saw.

  "Thanks," she whispered, voice rough.

  He nodded, forehead brushing lightly against hers before he pulled back just enough to give her space.

  No promises.

  No confessions.

  Just a simple, quiet I'm here.

  It was enough.

  ---

  Astrid leaned back against the edge of the spring, half-floating, letting the water cradle her tired body.

  She stared up at the stars beginning to appear in the deepening sky.

  Everything's going to be okay.

  For a little while, at least.

  Kurai shifted after a while, moving to the other side of the spring, giving her room.

  His tail flicked lazily in the water — not defensive, not coiled tight like it usually was.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Just... relaxed.

  Astrid caught the small, instinctive detail and smiled to herself.

  He’s comfortable. Really comfortable.

  For once.

  ---

  "You know," Kurai said, voice low and a little rough, "you’re not the only one terrible at talking about... stuff."

  Astrid gave a shaky half-laugh. "Yeah?"

  He nodded, glancing away like he wasn’t sure he should keep going — but he did.

  "I used to get into fights all the time when I was younger. A lot of them," he said, almost sheepish.

  "Wasn’t good at explaining why I was angry. Still not."

  Astrid tilted her head, studying him — seeing something boyish under the sharp edges.

  "I’m guessing you won most of them," she teased.

  He smirked faintly. "Obviously. Didn’t even need my fire. I’m built better than those prissy elves."

  His tail flicked once in the water, sending a ripple through the pale steam.

  Astrid laughed under her breath.

  "You remember that guard who showed us around the city?" Kurai added, voice turning sly.

  "The one who glared at you the whole time?" she said.

  Kurai nodded. "Used to torment me when I was a kid. Always calling me ‘demon,’ laughing about my tail."

  Astrid stiffened slightly — but Kurai only shrugged, the edges of his smile sharpening into something almost smug.

  "One day, I beat him so badly he cried every time he saw me afterward," he said, tone entirely unapologetic. "Think he still flinches."

  Astrid let out a startled laugh — not because the story was funny, exactly, but because of the way Kurai said it.

  No shame.

  No apology.

  Just truth, sharp-edged and strangely comforting.

  He looked so pleased with himself, like a smug cat who’d knocked over a vase on purpose.

  There he is —

  That smug Kurai from when we first met.

  Astrid shook her head, smiling despite herself.

  "You're awful," she said warmly.

  He shrugged again, tail flicking lazily like he couldn’t be bothered pretending otherwise.

  "He never messed with me again. That’s a win in my books."

  Astrid laughed again — softer this time.

  Their laughter lingered, soft and easy, before fading into a deeper stillness.

  ---

  After a while, Kurai flicked water lazily with his tail, glancing over.

  "You know," he said casually, "I still remember the first time I tried to hide it."

  Astrid perked up immediately.

  "Oh, this has to be good."

  Kurai sighed dramatically, but there was a crooked smile tugging at his mouth.

  "Tried stuffing it down my pant leg."

  Astrid immediately started giggling.

  "Yeah," Kurai continued, completely deadpan.

  "Let's just say... it did not look good. Looked like I was packing something very impressive."

  She burst out laughing, covering her mouth.

  "Tried everything. Taping it. Tying it. Shoving it into a boot."

  He shook his head, mock solemn.

  "Ended up looking like I had a very confused third limb."

  Astrid was wheezing by this point.

  "And?"

  "And after weeks of sneaking around like that, Myrren takes one look at me and says, 'Why don't you just wear a longer coat, idiot?'"

  Astrid lost it, slumping back against the stone, laughing until tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

  Kurai watched her with a fond, quietly amused expression.

  He’s doing this for me, she realized.

  He’s making me laugh on purpose.

  God, it worked.

  ---

  The laughter faded into a soft, easy quiet.

  Astrid tipped her head back, breathing in the thick, warm air.

  The stars wheeled lazily overhead, the night stretching deep and endless.

  For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

  But the ground beneath them was changing.

  She felt it — even here.

  ---

  A low, distant rumble stirred the earth beneath the spring, so faint she almost thought she imagined it.

  The water shivered against her skin.

  Kurai went still, his golden eyes narrowing toward the dark horizon.

  They both knew what it meant.

  The Dragonlands were close now.

  Close enough to wake the bones of the earth.

  Astrid closed her eyes, feeling the hum beneath her — ancient, restless, alive.

  And for the first time, she wondered:

  When they found what they were looking for...

  When they found the dragons...

  What would Kurai choose?

  Would he stay?

  Would he leave?

  The thought cut deeper than she wanted to admit.

  She didn’t say it aloud.

  Not yet.

  Because deep down, she already knew:

  She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  Not to him.

  She was the bridge. But what if he walked away?