Kael woke to the gray light of dawn seeping through the trees, the world damp and cool after the night. His body ached in places he didn’t even know had muscles. His hands were blistered raw from Orin’s relentless drills, his shoulders burned, and his legs felt heavy as stone.

  The sword leaned against a nearby log, catching the faint light. It almost seemed to watch him, waiting, patient in its silence.

  Kael sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eye, and stared at the blade. For a long moment, he thought about reaching for it. He imagined Orin’s voice in his head—sharp, demanding, telling him again and again: pick it up, again, again, again.

  But Kael shook his head. “Nah,” he muttered under his breath. “Not today.”

  He leaned back against the log, stretching out sore legs, letting the stiffness ease from his body. The camp was still quiet. Most were asleep, save for the faint sound of Tarin humming at his watch post. The air was cool, sharp with the smell of damp earth and ash.

  Soft footsteps approached from behind. Kael didn’t need to look to know who it was.

  “You’re not training?” Lila’s voice was low, curious.

  Kael sighed, tilting his head to glance at her. She crouched beside him, her dark hair loose, her arm still wrapped from the wound she’d taken. Even half-healed, she carried herself steady, eyes bright in the weak morning light.

  “Not today,” Kael said again.

  Lila’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Orin will have your head for that.”

  “Let him try.” Kael shifted to sit properly, brushing dirt from his hands. “If I swing that sword one more time, my arms are going to fall off. And then I’ll be useless to everyone.”

  “You’re not useless.”

  He gave a small, dry laugh. “Feels like it sometimes.”

  Lila didn’t answer right away. She sat down beside him on the log, close enough that their shoulders brushed, though she didn’t move away. For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched, filled only by the rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of waking voices in the camp.

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  Finally, Lila broke it. “Do you regret it?”

  Kael frowned. “Regret what?”

  “Fighting. Staying with us. Choosing to stand when you could’ve left.”

  He thought about it, staring at the ground. His fingers picked absently at the dirt. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve just kept walking when I had the chance. If maybe I’d still… have something left. My eye. My strength. I don’t know.”

  Lila’s voice softened. “And now?”

  “Now…” Kael lifted his gaze, staring at the pale sky through the trees. “Now I can’t imagine not being here. Not fighting. Even if I hate it sometimes.”

  Her lips softened into something that might’ve been pride, or maybe just relief. “Good. Because we need you here.”

  Kael glanced at her, half-smiling. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

  “I just say what’s true.” She nudged his arm gently. “And what’s true is that you’ve already saved us more than once. Whether you believe it or not.”

  Kael fell quiet again, letting her words settle. He wanted to believe them, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. He saw fire burning behind his ruined eye, the weight of the blade too heavy in his hands.

  “You’re not afraid of me?” he asked suddenly.

  Her head tilted. “Why would I be?”

  “Everyone else is. Orin hides it well, but even he… I see it in the way they look at me. The fire. The eye. The things I can’t control. They’re scared of what I’ll become.”

  Lila didn’t hesitate. “I’m not them.”

  Her voice was steady, certain, and it hit him harder than he expected. He turned toward her, searching her face, looking for the flicker of fear he was sure had to be there. But she only held his gaze, unwavering.

  “I don’t care about the fire, Kael,” she said softly. “I care about the boy who fought beside me, who stood when he didn’t have to. That’s who you are to me. Not a monster. Not a weapon. Just you.”

  The words lodged in his chest, sharp and warm all at once he felt a nudge in his heart. He wanted to speak, but nothing came.

  So instead, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Lila smiled faintly. “You don’t need to thank me. Just… believe it, a little.”

  He gave a small nod, though doubt still pulled at him. “It’s hard. Every time I use it—the fire, the eye—it feels like I lose something. Like I’m giving pieces of myself away. What if one day there’s nothing left but… that?”

  Her expression softened, almost tender. “Then I’ll remind you who you are. As many times as it takes.”

  Kael swallowed, throat tight. For a moment, he almost looked away, but he didn’t. He held her gaze, feeling a steadiness he hadn’t felt in days.

  “You really believe that?” he asked.

  “I do.” She gave a small, crooked grin. “Besides, someone has to keep you from setting yourself on fire.”

  He laughed—quiet, rough, but genuine. “That’s fair.”

  They sat in silence again, but it wasn’t heavy this time. It was easy, warm. The kind of silence that didn’t demand filling.

  After a while, Kael spoke again. “When I first met you, I thought you were… untouchable. Brave. Strong. Like nothing scared you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, amused. “And now?”

  “Now I know you’re stubborn and bossy.”

  She nudged his shoulder, laughing softly. “Takes one to know one.”

  “True,” Kael admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips.

  The sound of the camp grew around them—people waking, murmuring, the crackle of a rekindled fire. But here, beside her, Kael felt cut off from it, as though the two of them sat in their own small world.

  Lila leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her gaze distant. “I used to think I had to do everything myself,” she said quietly. “That if I wasn’t strong enough, everyone would fall apart. But then… you kept standing beside me. Even when you had every reason to run.”

  Kael’s voice was softer now. “And you kept believing in me, even when I gave you reasons not to.”

  She turned to him, smiling faintly. “Maybe that’s why we’re still alive.”

  “Maybe.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Her smile widened just a little. “Me too.”

  The sword glimmered faintly in the morning light, still resting against the log. Kael looked at it once more and shook his head.

  “Not today,” he repeated.

  Lila followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “Tomorrow,” she said.

  “Tomorrow,” he agreed.

  And for the first time in a long while, Kael felt the weight on his chest ease, just a little.