They found the next ruin just after dawn.

  The air hung damp and thick with mist, a blanket over the world that muffled even the birdsong.

  Moss-choked stairs led down into shadowed stone, where the air turned sharp and sour with

  ancient magic that hadn't seen daylight in centuries. Ava crouched at the threshold, brushing her

  fingers over a carved sigil half-buried in dirt. The faint hum of power ran beneath her skin,

  making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

  “Okay,” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur to the morning. “This is gorgeous. Vaeltharyn

  exceeds my expectations. These runes look so natural—though that’d be weird, because the

  leyline geometry’s all wrong and—”

  Ugraum tapped her shoulder, his broad fingers brushing against her arm in a motion that was

  both gentle and urgent. “We’re being watched.”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. It wasn’t fear; it was the cold recognition of trouble that had

  come to find them. "Oh."

  He pointed toward the treeline, the jagged silhouette of trees swaying ominously in the wind. A

  flicker of motion—a shadow that didn’t belong. Not animals. Not scouts.

  Ogres.

  Karnak’s Teeth.

  Ava swore under her breath. “They followed us?”

  “Or waited,” Ugraum said, his voice low, heavy with the weight of knowing. “They knew we’d

  come.”

  “Should we run?”

  He glanced at the narrow entrance to the ruin, eyeing the steep descent below. “We go down.

  They follow, they fight us in a tomb. Better than open ground.”

  Ava hesitated only for a moment.“Let’s go.”

  * * *

  The inside of the ruin was colder than outside, and the walls pulsed faintly with residual magic,

  crackling with a life that had long since faded. Ava’s goggles flickered, barely able to handle the

  energy seeping from every crack and crevice. As they moved through the winding hallways, they

  passed murals—twisted, grotesque depictions of ogres wearing twin-tusked masks, holding aloft

  broken stars. No time to study.

  Behind them, boots scraped stone. A soft sound, but unmistakable.

  “They’re close,” Ugraum warned, his voice lowering. “Too close.”

  Ava ducked into a chamber, the air heavy with the scent of old dust. “This way!”

  The room opened into a circular hall, its floor cracked and uneven. Stone pillars twisted like

  gnarled trees, standing crooked against the weight of time. In the center, a raised platform rose,

  its edges cracked and jagged. There was something shimmering there, something that seemed

  out of place—a console, perhaps? An anchor? Whatever it was, it hummed with magic.

  “I’ll try to activate it,” Ava whispered, racing forward, brushing her hands over the old stone

  surface. She could feel the weight of the magic here, ancient and untapped. There had to be

  something—anything—that could give them an edge.

  Ugraum turned back toward the stairs. His body tensed, and a growl rumbled in his chest.

  “They’re here.”

  Three ogres emerged from the shadows—towering figures draped in armor patched with bone,

  tusks etched with clan markings. At their head, a hulking beast. Rakhul. Their leader.

  Ugraum stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Brother.”

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  Rakhul spat, a foul string of saliva that hit the floor like a challenge. “You look soft, Ugraum.”

  “Better soft than cruel.” His voice was low, but there was a biting edge to it.

  Rakhul sneered. “You left us. For a woman?”

  Ava, still fiddling with the console, paused, her eyes darting over to the ogre leader. “Hi. Yes. Just

  trying to get home.”

  Rakhul’s tusked grin stretched wide. “She makes you weak.”

  Ugraum stepped forward, his muscles coiling like steel. “No. She makes me think. That’s what

  you fear.”

  Before Ava could react, Rakhul charged.

  The clash was deafening. Ugraum met him halfway, his axe singing through the air as it collided

  with Rakhul’s greatsword. The impact rattled the chamber, stone groaning under the force.

  Sparks flew as steel met steel, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to hold its breath.

  Ava flinched but didn’t stop. She was too close now—just a few more seconds, and the runes

  would be active. She needed it to work. Her fingers danced across the rune patterns, breath

  quickening.

  “I think I know how this works! It’s a simple puzzle! Just need to connect the binding rune...

  come on... come on...” she muttered under her breath, her pulse pounding in her ears.

  Rakhul growled, his grip tightening on his sword. With a swift motion, he shoved Ugraum back

  against a pillar, slamming him into the stone with such force that it cracked under their

  combined weight. Ugraum staggered, struggling to keep his footing.

  “You’re nothing without the clan,” Rakhul sneered, his blade at Ugraum’s throat.

  Ugraum’s hands grasped the blade, his fingers slipping against the edge, but his resolve was

  stronger than the pain. “I’m more with her than I ever was with you.”

  And then Ava shouted. “MOVE!”

  The stone console exploded into light.

  A massive wave of force hurled everyone backward. The shockwave rattled through the ruin, a

  pulse of raw power that struck like a thunderclap. Rakhul and his ogres were flung into the far

  wall, their bodies slamming into the stone with bone-crushing impact. Ava flew backward, the

  force of the explosion sending her careening into the debris. She landed hard, her body colliding

  with the ground, a sharp pain blooming in her ribs.

  Coughing, bruised but alive, Ava pushed herself up. “I thought I had it,” she wheezed.

  Ugraum scrambled to her side, his hands gently pulling her up. “Ava—”

  “I’m fine.” She grinned, though it was more grimace than anything. “Ow.”

  The ogres groaned from the floor, struggling to rise. Rakhul was still conscious, but barely.

  Ugraum stood over him, a dark shadow looming. “It’s over.”

  Rakhul spit blood, his defiance still burning through broken bones. “You’re a disgrace. Our clan

  will come for you!”

  “I can live with that.” Ugraum’s voice was cold, but there was a flicker of something softer

  beneath it. He turned away, offering Ava his hand.

  She took it, letting him pull her up.

  Together, they left the ruin as the sun climbed higher, bruised and battered, but still alive.

  * * *

  Later, at the Camp

  Ava sat beside the fire, poking idly at the stew pot. She wasn’t hungry—not yet, anyway. Her

  mind was still replaying the battle, explosion, and the tense moments before everything had gone

  to hell.

  “So,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the pot, “I blew up everything, possibly angered the laws of

  magic, and accidentally made you look extremely cool.”

  Ugraum grunted, his deep voice a rumble in the night. “Very cool.”

  Ava shot him a glance. “You okay? With what happened?”

  He was quiet for a moment, his eyes on the fire. “Yes. I chose you. I don’t regret it.”

  Ava blinked. “That’s... wow. Big statement.”

  “I mean it,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “You are small, loud, and confusing.

  But you matter. To me.”

  Ava swallowed, the words settling into her chest like a heavy weight. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  Ugraum leaned in closer, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face, his eyes warm and

  steady. “Still cold tonight?”

  “…Yes.”

  He held out his blanket to her, his large hand offering warmth and safety. “Then we survive.

  Together.”

  Ava didn’t hesitate this time. She took it, the familiar comfort of his presence wrapping around

  her. The ruins were long behind them, but their bruises weren’t.

  Ava walked with a limp the whole day, her body aching with the aftermath of the battle. Her half-

  hearted scowl couldn’t hide the exhaustion that weighed down on her, but she held her notebook

  close—her only anchor to the world outside the chaos. Ugraum led the way, his stride long and

  sure, though even he winced with each movement, the pain from the fight evident in the way he

  held himself.

  They found a tucked-away clearing just past a slow, winding stream. The air smelled of pine and

  damp earth, birds chirping in the distance. For the first time in weeks, it felt safe.

  “Okay,” Ava said, collapsing onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. “My legs hate me. My back hates

  me. My hair is forming a diplomatic alliance with nearby moss. We’re staying here.”

  Ugraum raised an eyebrow. “Is that a scientist’s command?”

  “It’s a medical command.”

  He grunted and set down his pack, his movements slow but deliberate. “Then I obey.”

  Ava peeked up at him from the grass, just a little. “You do that too easily.”

  “Only for you.”

  A flush crept up her neck, and she looked away quickly, trying not to smile like an idiot.

  Later, Ugraum returned from a berry-hunting trip, a leather satchel full of fruit and a few roots

  she didn’t recognize. He dropped them beside her with a grunt.

  “You found snacks,” Ava said, raising an eyebrow. “I forgive your earlier sass.”

  “They’re not poisonous.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “Mostly.”

  Ava stared at the berries, then met his eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I lived this

  long.”

  They sat together, the world around them quiet, a gentle warmth stretching over the camp.

  Ugraum sharpened his axe again, a repetitive task that grounded him, though it was clear his

  mind wasn’t entirely on it.

  “Something bothering you?” Ava asked after a while.

  He paused, the rhythm of his movements slowing. Then he sighed. “You almost left.”

  Ava’s throat tightened, the memory of the past weeks’ turmoil still fresh. She swallowed hard,

  looking away for a moment. “Not really. I couldn’t get a portal open. I’m tired. At this point, I

  don’t know what I want.”

  He nodded slowly. “What if you leave? Will you come visit?.”

  “Yes. If I can find a safer way to reach you.” she admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “It’s

  comforting to be around you.”

  That earned her a glance—soft, surprised, as if he hadn’t expected her to say it aloud.

  “…Even if I snore?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

  She smirked. “You snore like two bears wrestling in a log.”

  He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest. “You’re mean when you like someone.”

  “Maybe.”

  A comfortable silence followed, one that neither of them rushed to fill. Then, ever so subtly, Ava

  shifted slightly closer to him, pretending it was to reach for the berry bag. And in that moment,

  when her hand brushed against his, she didn’t pull away. She held on.

  * * *

  That night, the fire crackled low, casting soft, dancing shadows against the trees. Ava had just

  woken up from a tired nap. She sat beside Ugraum again—closer this time, her warmth mingling

  with his. No longer shivering, no longer distant. Just… not wanting to be apart.

  They sat in silence, the kind of quiet that only came after battles fought and decisions made.

  Finally, Ugraum spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s getting cold.Blanket rule?”

  Ava blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

  He looked at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You said if we shared again, there’d be rules.”

  She grinned. “Right. Blanket rules.”

  Holding up a finger, she began. “Rule one: No unsolicited arm draping. That’s a Level Four

  Cuddle Offense.”

  Ugraum nodded solemnly. “Noted.”

  “Rule two: No rolling over and trapping me with your body weight. I’m still nursing a bruise

  from last time.”

  “Was protective rolling.”

  “It was squishing.”

  “Fine. Squish-free.”

  “Rule three…” She faltered, her gaze shifting away for a moment before meeting his steady eyes.

  “…You can hold my hand. If you want. But not because I’m cold.”

  He looked at her then—soft and steady, his gaze unflinching. “I want.”

  Her hand found his without hesitation. His palm was warm and surprisingly gentle as it

  enveloped hers.

  And in the hush of that firelight, tucked between pine shadows and starlight, the blanket

  rulebook quietly fell to the side.