The morning after tasted like iron and guilt.
Elira rose early, leaving Kael sleeping beneath fur and flickering dreams. Her lips still burned where he had kissed her. Her thighs ached with phantom want. But it wasn't shame that stirred inside her it was confusion.
She'd kissed a dying man, a stranger, a blade in human shape. And part of her wanted to do it again.
Instead, she slipped into her boots and wrapped a faded shawl around her shoulders. The wind outside still smelled of wet ash and thunderclouds. The woods had gone too quiet. Even the birds were absent, as if they feared what had passed through.
She followed the path she remembered the one she had dragged Kael across just yesterday.
The arrow that wounded him still lay at the site. She found it embedded in moss, dark with blood. But something was wrong. The feathers at the shaft were not just black they shimmered faintly, like oil across water. When she touched them, her fingertips tingled, then numbed.
Poison.
But not ordinary poison.
A whisper tickled the back of her mind.
You have touched a cursed fang
Elira spun around.
A woman stood ten paces behind her, barefoot on the forest floor, her robes made of stitched raven feathers and midnight thread. Her eyes were... wrong. Empty sockets where sight once lived, but glowing faintly blue.
I heard you weren't blind, Elira said.
The woman smiled. I see more than most.
You're the Hag of Briar thorn.
That's what they call me. You can call me 'Get the hell out of my forest' if you like.
Elira bristled, keeping her hand near the knife at her hip. You're a witch.
So are you, little ember.
I'm not
The Hag held up a finger.
You kissed a cursed man last night. You let his blood touch yours. You dreamt of flame and shadow. Do you think that's chance?
Elira stared at her. Who is he?
Kael? the Hag chuckled. He was born beneath a burning moon. Son of a Flame walker. Killer of kings. Betrayer of the Ember Pact.
Elira... came a voice from the trees behind her.
Kael
He wore a cloak now, dark and ragged, drawn around him like a wolf hides its fangs. But his silver eyes were locked on the Hag. His expression unreadable.
Leave her alone, he said.
The Hag turned toward him. You should have died with the others.
And yet, here I am.
The pact is cracked, boy, she hissed. And it will break entirely before long.
Elira stepped between them. Enough. Tell me what this 'pact' is.
Kael didn't speak.
The Hag did.
Once, the Flame walkers and the Skyborn made a pact. Fire and wind, joined in secret flesh, to balance the elements and keep the world from splitting in half.
Elira blinked. That sounds like myth.
The Hag nodded. It was. Until one of the sons of fire fell in love with a girl of stone... and chose her over the balance.
Kael's voice, low: That son was me.
Elira turned slowly. You're... hundreds of years old?
Kael met her gaze. No. But I carry the blood of the one who was.
And that means...?
Kael stepped forward, gently touching her arm. It means anyone who touches me becomes a target. Especially if they... wake something inside me.
Elira swallowed. Her skin still tingled where he touched her.
So what now? she asked.
The Hag turned. Now you run. Or you burn. Those are the only two paths left.
And just like that, she vanished into mist.
They returned to the cabin in silence.
Inside, Kael poured water into a rusted bowl, washing his hands. His muscles rippled with the movement. His back bore more scars than skin.
She wasn't lying, was she? Elira asked.
No.
She said you kissed me.
He froze.
I did.
Elira crossed the floor slowly. I kissed you too.
His breath caught.
I should stay away from you, he said.
You won't.
No.
She was before him now, only a breath between them.
Do you want me to stop? she whispered.
His silver eyes darkened. I want nothing to stop.
Their second kiss was deeper.
This time, there was no hesitation. His mouth found hers with hunger, but now it was tempered controlled. Worshipful. She moaned softly as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her up against the heat of him.
They fell into the bed with little ceremony.
Her hands roamed first his chest, his back, the grooves of his hips. Kael breathed harder as she straddled him, her thighs spreading to meet the pressure beneath his cloak.
She undid the ties of her tunic. His eyes devoured her, but his hands didn't move.
You can touch me, she said.
I want to remember every moment, he replied.
And then he did.
His hands explored slowly first her waist, then up, brushing beneath her breasts, then cupping them in a rough, reverent grip. Her nipples peaked beneath his palms. She gasped and ground against him. The friction made her cry out.
Elira, he murmured. You feel like fire.
She kissed his throat, his collarbone, his jaw leaving small wet trails. Her hips rolled, and he groaned beneath her, pulling her tighter against him.
The moment grew wilder. Her tunic vanished. His cloak dropped. Her nails left marks down his chest.
She guided him into her, slowly, gasping at the stretch,
the heat, the intensity.
They moved together.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
And faster still.
Until the world dissolved.
Until only flame remained.
Elira awoke to silence.
The dawn was pale through the cracks of the wooden walls. The hearth was cold, the embers dead.
Kael was gone.
She sat up slowly, her skin still warm where he'd touched her, her heart still pounding from the night before. A strange chill crept through her, far colder than the morning air.
Outside, the door bore a cruel mark a scorched symbol burned into the wood, glowing faintly red and pulsing like a heartbeat.
Her breath caught.
A warning.
She stepped outside, clutching her cloak tight. The forest loomed quiet. But the soft crunch of hooves snapped her attention to the path.
Dark riders appeared on the ridge silhouettes against the mist, cloaked and armed.
Elira's eyes narrowed.
They came for him, she whispered.
But they'd come for her now too.
The riders approached with a silence that chilled Elira's bones. Their horses' hooves barely disturbed the mist, and their faces were hidden beneath heavy black hoods.
She retreated inside the cabin, heart pounding like a war drum.
Kael wasn't here to protect her.
A sudden crash the door splintered beneath a battering ram of heavy wood.
By the Flame, Elira cursed, grabbing the iron dagger Kael had left on the table.
The first rider stormed in, a tall figure with eyes like smoldering coals.
Elira, he hissed, voice dripping with dark promise.
Her hand tightened around the dagger, but the room blurred memories and desire tangled inside her.
Kael, she whispered, tasting the name like fire on her tongue.
Her breath caught as the rider advanced.
The game had just begun.