The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.
The Dance of Fireflies
The following evening, the village of Elaria was alive with quiet celebration. Once a month, when the moon rose full and bright, the villagers released glowing lanterns into the sky and gathered to watch the dance of fireflies. It was an ancient tradition, meant to remind them that even in darkness, light would always return.
Aurora had grown up with these nights, but this time felt different. She stood at the edge of the gathering, her eyes often straying toward Kael. He had recovered enough to walk with her, though the bandages still wrapped his shoulder. Even dressed in the simple clothes she had given him, he carried himself with an air that drew curious glances. The villagers whispered, wondering who this stranger was, but Aurora kept close to him, shielding him with her quiet presence.
Kael watched the lanterns with an expression Aurora could not read. His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to soften under the golden glow.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low.
"A tradition," Aurora explained. "We release the lanterns to honor the stars. It reminds us that no matter how lost we feel, light always finds its way home."
Kael's gaze lingered on the drifting lights. "In my kingdom," he said quietly, "we honor the moon. But lately… it feels as though it has turned its face from us."
Aurora tilted her head, studying him. There was sorrow in his words, weight carried in every syllable. She longed to ease it, though she barely knew how.
When the fireflies began to appear—tiny sparks of gold weaving through the air like living stars—Aurora's heart lifted. She had always loved this moment, when the night seemed to breathe with magic. Smiling, she reached out, catching one gently in her hand. Its glow shimmered against her skin.
Kael's eyes followed her, a rare softness overtaking his guarded face.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
Aurora blinked, unsure if he meant the firefly—or her.
For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the hum of wings and the laughter of children chasing the glowing insects. Then Aurora, her heart thundering, extended her hand toward him. "Come," she said softly.
Kael frowned slightly. "Where?"
"Just trust me."
She led him away from the crowd, into the open glade beyond the village where the fireflies gathered thickest. The meadow glowed like a sea of stars, the air alive with golden light. Aurora stepped into the center, her dress flowing like water, and turned to face him.
"Here, we dance," she said with a smile.
Kael arched a brow. "Dance?"
"Yes," Aurora insisted. "It's tradition too. Don't tell me a prince doesn't know how."
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "I know how," he admitted. "But I doubt I'll be any good at your village traditions."
"Then follow me," Aurora whispered, taking his hand.
His touch was warm, steady despite the roughness of his palm. Slowly, she guided him, their steps awkward at first, then flowing into a rhythm as natural as breathing. Fireflies swirled around them, golden orbs painting the night in wonder. Aurora laughed softly, and Kael found himself staring—not at the fireflies, but at her.
Her eyes glowed with starlight, her hair catching the golden sparks as though she herself were made of light. For a heartbeat, he forgot the shadows, the war, the curse. All that existed was her hand in his, her laughter, her courage.
"You're not what I expected," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the night.
Aurora tilted her head, her smile faint. "What did you expect?"
"Someone ordinary," he confessed. "But you… you feel like destiny."
Her breath caught. For a moment, she forgot to move, the weight of his words pressing against her heart. Their steps slowed until they stood still, inches apart, the fireflies circling them like stars.
Aurora felt the pull again, that invisible thread tying them together. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet thrum of her heartbeat and the intensity in his gaze.
Neither leaned closer. Neither pulled away. But in that suspended moment, something between them shifted—subtle, undeniable.
It was the beginning of something neither of them could fight.