Lucian & Kyrell: "Silhouette" – Aquilo
Mara's Scene: "Control" – Halsey (Stripped Version)
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The night was bruised purple when Kyrell stirred against him, the light from the hearth casting soft flickers over their skin—one marred by eternal cold, the other warmed by memory and something else now. Something deeper.
Lucian didn't speak. He simply stared at the boy who had bled through every nightmare and waking ache. Kyrell's lips parted slightly, breath unsteady, eyes fluttering as if still caught between then and now.
He looked at Lucian—not with fear, not with confusion. But with something near to heartbreak.
> "You kissed me," Kyrell whispered, voice like gravel brushed with silk.
Lucian's voice cracked when he answered.
> "You kissed me first."
Kyrell blinked. His brows furrowed. Then something inside him twisted—memories, fractured and dark, slamming into place like falling glass. He pulled away slightly, sitting up, the blanket sliding from his bare chest.
> "I remember..." he said softly. "But it's... wrong. It's like I'm there and not there."
Lucian sat up with him, still wrapped in silence, letting the firelight speak for him.
> "What did you do to me?" Kyrell asked—not accusing, but raw.
Lucian's eyes closed slowly. He didn't deny it.
> "You were dying. And you were mine. I couldn't watch you forget."
Kyrell's hands curled into fists at his knees.
> "So you chose to erase me instead?"
> "No. I chose to protect what we had until you could handle what it meant."
Kyrell looked at him, truly looked—and for a moment, Lucian thought he would flee, or break, or worse.
But instead... Kyrell leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Lucian's chest, and let the silence hold them both. Their bond was still damaged. But no longer breaking.
And somewhere inside that quiet, something finally settled between them.
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Somewhere far..
MARA
She sat alone in her chamber. Or so it seemed.
The mirror had been shattered—sharp silver shards like fallen stars across the floor. Her reflection was a ghost, fractured and lost. Her hands trembled on her lap, pale and tight-knuckled. The air around her pulsed with restrained fury.
> "He loves him," she whispered aloud.
There was a pause. Then a voice behind her—low, slick with smoke—responded:
> "You knew that long ago, didn't you?"
She turned slowly. The man in the shadows was more presence than person. Cloaked. Watching. Maybe Silas's agent. Maybe something older. Hungrier.
> "But knowing doesn't make it easier," she said, voice quivering.
> "No. It makes it unbearable."
She stood, trembling with grief-turned-rage.
> "I gave him everything. My loyalty. My blood. My love."
> "And he gave it to someone else."
The figure stepped closer. She didn't flinch. Her eyes, wet and bitter, had hardened into stone.
> "Then let him bleed," she whispered. "Let them both bleed."
> "Good," the voice said. "Because love is power. And power—"
> "Always draws blood," she finished, eyes glowing with something venomous.
A wind stirred. The shadows curled. And Mara no longer looked broken—she looked ready.