Kael's lips hovered inches from hers, but he didn't move. Neither did she.
The moment stretched like a blade between them, sharp with what they'd lost—and what she was about to give.
"You don't even know what the curse demands," he murmured, voice rough with something too ancient to be anger. "You think a kiss is all it takes?"
Lyriana narrowed her eyes. "The terms said a willing kiss from the one who betrayed me. That's you."
Kael laughed once, bitter and low. "Then the curse is crueler than I imagined."
His hand brushed her chin. Not gentle, not rough. Just enough to tilt her face up toward his. The contact seared. Not from pain, but memory. Of once. Of before. Of the fire that nearly ruined them both.
"You really think this will undo it?" he asked, softer now. "That you'll walk away unmarked?"
"I don't care," she whispered. "I'd kiss you a thousand times if it means the curse dies."
His expression changed. Something fractured behind his eyes—something feral and broken—and before she could speak again, his mouth was on hers.
The world fell away.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't kind.
It was punishment. Remembrance. Need wrapped in a snarl.
Magic cracked the earth beneath them. Her back arched as the curse screamed, coiling upward from her skin in black vines and flickers of light. Kael grabbed her arms to steady her, but it wasn't enough. The kiss deepened, desperate now, as if their mouths could mend everything their hands destroyed.
When they broke apart, she was gasping.
He looked ruined. And furious.
"You should have let it kill you," he said hoarsely.
She staggered back. "I almost did."
But the vines were gone.
The scar had vanished.
And deep in her soul, something ancient and silent… stirred.