I didn't answer. Not yet.
Instead, I looked down at my arm — at the shifting tattoos that pulsed faintly beneath my skin. Marks of a path that didn't belong to this world. A path I had chosen, even if I still didn't understand what it truly meant. I wasn't ready to tell her the truth.
I drew a slow breath, steadying myself, and looked back at Auralia. Her eyes hadn't left mine — sharp, searching, unrelenting. Not demanding, but patient in the way only she could be. Piercing.
"I think… maybe I'm just a spellsword," I offered, the words tumbling out too quickly. "You know, someone who blends blade and magic. It's not that uncommon."
Even as I said it, I knew it was flimsy. A half-truth at best.
Auralia blinked slowly. "A spellsword," she repeated flatly.
I gave a sheepish shrug, scratching the back of my head like I used to when I got caught sneaking off to the cliffs as a kid. "Yeah. Makes sense, right? The runes, the sword… the magic."
She crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Mmhmm. And the part where your marks shifted mid-ceremony? From mage to warrior?" She stepped closer, her voice softening. "Or the part where you nearly tore the world open last night with raw force that didn't look anything like control?"
I hesitated. "Unstable spellcasting?"
She snorted. "You're many things, Eiran. But a good liar still isn't one of them."
I looked away, but she reached out and gently took my arm. The runes beneath my skin shimmered, their glow flickering like they couldn't decide what they wanted to be.
"These marks... they're not just magic," she whispered. "They're something else. You're something else. I don't know what yet — and neither do you, do you?"
I exhaled slowly. "No… I don't."
She studied me a moment longer, then nodded. "That's okay. But don't shut me out, Eiran. Not after everything."
"I won't," I said. "Just… give me time to figure it out."
"You've got until Kithra," she said with a soft smile.
She turned toward the horizon, where the last light of day stretched thin across the ravine. For a while, we let the silence stretch — not heavy, but full of all the things we hadn't yet said.
The path narrowed as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over cracked red stone and thorny brush. Towering canyon walls loomed around us, their faces painted in copper and rust. The only sound was the crunch of our boots and the distant cry of a canyon hawk.
Neither of us spoke. The silence between us was companionable, but thick — too many words left unspoken, waiting to slip through the cracks if we weren't careful.
Then, without warning, Auralia grinned. "Race you to the next ridge?"
I blinked. "What?"
She was already sprinting ahead. "Loser makes dinner!"
I cursed under my breath — but smiled — and gave chase. She moved like a dancer, light and sure-footed, but I was stronger now. I caught up just as she stumbled on a patch of loose gravel. My arm shot out, catching her around the waist.
We froze, suddenly close — her hand against my chest, mine steady at the small of her back. Her breath hitched, her gaze lifting to meet mine.
The wind stirred her hair across her cheek, and in the fading sunlight, I noticed again the beauty mark just below her left collarbone, half-hidden by the strap of her top. I remembered it from years ago, when we used to swim in the village spring. I had always thought it made her look like she'd been kissed by starlight.
"I missed this," she murmured. "You. Us."
I swallowed hard, caught between who we were and who we'd become. "I did too," I said. "More than I can explain."
Her fingers lingered on my chest. "You've changed," she said softly. "It's in your eyes. Like you've been carrying something too heavy, for too long."
I looked away. I couldn't tell her everything — not yet. Not about the Fatestone. Not about the Warden.
"I guess life doesn't wait for us to be ready," I said quietly.
She tilted her head, golden light brushing her skin. "Then we face it together, right?"
I met her eyes again. "Right."
We reached the ridge side by side. Below us sprawled the winding maze of Rockan — wild and vast, full of ravines, ruins, monsters, and secrets. Somewhere beyond lay Kithra… and whatever fate had planned next.
Auralia leaned against me, shoulder to shoulder. "Still counts as a tie. We're both making dinner."
I chuckled. "Fair enough."
As twilight deepened, we made camp beneath the whispering cliffs. I caught myself watching her when she wasn't looking — the way she moved, the curve of her smile, the shimmer of moonlight catching that beauty mark like a memory turned promise.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel alone.
The fire crackled low, casting flickering light across the jagged canyon walls. Auralia sat near the water's edge, her gaze distant but calm. I leaned against a weathered rock, feeling the ache still lingering in my muscles from the night before.
Then — movement.
A figure stepped from behind a twisted juniper tree, slow and confident. Cloaked in dark leather, armor light and fitted for stealth, he moved with the grace of someone who'd long mastered the art of vanishing — and the danger of choosing not to.
"Arynn," Auralia breathed, standing abruptly. Her voice was threaded with surprise — and something else I couldn't name. "You came back."
The figure dropped his hood, a sly smile forming. A few years older than me, his sharp gaze flicked between the two of us like a wolf taking stock of the pack.
"I heard there was an explosion in the southern ravine," Arynn said smoothly, voice low and edged with amusement. "Figured it might be you. Or someone foolish enough to call themselves an adventurer."
I tensed, the memory of last night's surge still burning beneath my skin. He didn't know I was responsible. Not yet.
Arynn's eyes lingered, his smile sharpening. "I've always liked the shadows more than the front lines — the rogue's path. Less glory. More control."
Then his gaze drifted — to Auralia. A heartbeat too long.
"Still, some things are worth stepping into the light for."
Her cheeks flushed, but her voice was steady. "Flattery won't get you far."
I rose slowly. Arynn was everything I wasn't — seasoned, confident, dangerous. And he knew it.
"We're not looking for trouble," I said. "If that's why you're here, you can go."
Arynn chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. "Trouble finds me, Eiran. I'm just here to remind you that some people pay a price for stepping into places they don't understand."
His words hit like a blade drawn just short of blood. A warning.
I clenched my fists. The fire inside me stirred again, hot and restless.
"You don't know what I'm capable of."