The inn's light was all amber and hush. Outside, rain whispered against the roof again—as if it couldn't stay gone for long. Rheia stood near the mirror, arms folded tight to keep her hands from shaking. Solene leaned against the wall, watching her like one watches the last light before dusk—wanting to touch, afraid to break.
"You never ask," Solene said softly, "what I see when I look at you."
Rheia didn't turn. "Because I'm afraid the answer is too beautiful."
Solene took a step forward. "And that frightens you?"
"It disarms me," Rheia admitted. "I wasn't made to live in beauty. Only to see it, briefly, before it passes."
Solene closed the distance between them slowly, like approaching a wild thing you don't want to startle. Her fingers brushed Rheia's wrist—heat meeting chill. Rheia flinched, but didn't pull away.
"You don't pass," Solene whispered. "You stay."
Rheia looked up—and for the first time, didn't glance at the mirror first. Her eyes met Solene's: storm and flame, longing with nowhere left to hide. The air between them snapped tight, like magic making a choice before either of them could.
Then Solene leaned in.
And Rheia didn't stop her.
The kiss was soft, slow—like a spell you never learned, but somehow always knew. Rheia tasted firelight and want, felt her pulse mirror Solene's. For once, no visions flooded her. No curses screamed. Only the hush of being wanted.
But behind them—
The mirror groaned.
They pulled apart.
And there it was.
The reflection had changed. It didn't show them as they were. It showed a room drenched in flame. Rheia alone, reaching for something burned out. The cracked glass pulsed like a heartbeat. And within it—a shadow. A third figure.
Not Solene.
Not Rheia.
Something watching.
Rheia stepped back. "That wasn't meant to be there."
Solene stared at the image, eyes wide. "It's reacting to us."
"No," Rheia said, voice shaking. "It's remembering."