The Shadow Hydra was dead, but its presence lingered. The marsh still reeked of rot and ash, the air humming faintly with the residue of corruption. Its body had already begun to dissolve into black vapor, curling skyward like smoke from a dying fire.
Ryan sat slumped against a half-shattered stone, every breath sharp in his lungs. The shard inside him pulsed unevenly, each throb like a hammer against his ribs. Kaelin knelt at his side, silver hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed a cloth to his arm where ichor had burned through his sleeve.
"You're shaking," she muttered. "Hold still, damn it."
Ryan managed a weak laugh. "Hard not to shake when a three-headed monster just tried to chew me in half."
Kaelin shot him a glare, but her hand softened against his skin. For all her fire, there was a gentleness buried beneath it — one she tried so hard to hide.
Across the clearing, Lyra knelt in the marsh grass, staff planted firmly as green aura threaded through the ground, purging the last traces of corruption. Her face glistened with sweat, her expression composed but weary.
Ryan's gaze lingered on her longer than he meant to. Her steadiness grounded him in a way that Kaelin's ferocity didn't. Both were anchors — one fire, one calm — and he felt caught between them like a ship tugged by two currents.
---
The Campfire
By nightfall, the Ashborn had made camp in the ruins above the marsh. Fires crackled, warriors sharpened blades, and Theron retold the Hydra fight with wild exaggeration, his axe gestures scattering sparks.
Ryan sat near the edge of camp, the artifact warm in his palm. The shard thrummed quietly, not violent like before but restless, as if whispering secrets he couldn't quite catch.
Kaelin dropped down beside him with two mugs of bitter-smelling broth. She shoved one into his hands. "Drink. You'll need the strength."
He smirked. "Since when do you play nurse?"
Her elbow jabbed his ribs lightly. "Don't push it." But her eyes softened. "You did good today, Ryan. More than good. You stood against something even Ashborn veterans feared."
Ryan sipped the broth, heat settling in his chest. "I didn't do it alone." His gaze shifted toward Lyra, who was seated across the fire, her hands weaving a quiet healing spell over an injured scout. Her face was lit by the flames, serene despite exhaustion.
Kaelin noticed his stare. Her jaw tightened. "You trust her too much."
Ryan blinked. "Lyra?"
"She hides things," Kaelin said, voice low. "Secrets about the shard. About you. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Ryan frowned. "She's the reason I can control this thing at all. Without her, I'd have lost myself."
"And without me, you'd have been torn apart in your first fight," Kaelin snapped, then looked away quickly, ashamed at her outburst.
Ryan opened his mouth, but Lyra approached before he could answer.
---
The Tension
Lyra crouched beside him, her hands glowing faintly. "May I?" she asked.
Ryan nodded, and she pressed her palms against his chest. Warmth spread through him, soothing the shard's erratic pulse. His breath steadied, and for a moment, the chaos inside him eased.
Her eyes met his, calm and intent. "Better?"
Ryan nodded again, words caught in his throat.
Kaelin shifted beside him, her aura practically sparking with irritation. "Always touching him," she muttered.
Lyra's gaze flicked toward her, unflinching. "If I don't, the shard could consume him. I don't do it for myself."
Kaelin leaned forward, silver hair falling over one shoulder. "Funny. You always look like you enjoy it."
The air between them bristled. Ryan felt like he was caught in a duel sharper than any blade.
"Enough," he said, pushing himself upright. "We're all on the same side."
But neither woman looked at him. Their eyes were locked on each other, fire against calm, pride against patience.
---
The Spark
Later, when most of the camp had drifted to sleep, Ryan found himself restless. The shard hummed too loudly for dreams to hold him. He rose quietly and wandered toward the edge of camp.
That's when he saw them.
Kaelin and Lyra sat together near the dying glow of a smaller fire. Their voices were hushed but sharp, the kind of words meant to cut but carrying something deeper.
"You think I don't see it?" Kaelin whispered harshly. "The way he looks at you. The way you look at him."
Lyra's reply was quiet, steady. "And you think you're the only one he cares for? The only one he trusts?"
Kaelin's fist clenched on her knee. "I've fought for him, bled for him. You—"
"—have saved him," Lyra finished gently. "And so have I. That's why you hate me, isn't it? Because you see it too. He needs us both."
For once, Kaelin faltered. Silence stretched. Then, to Ryan's surprise, Lyra reached out and took Kaelin's hand. Not forceful, not sly — simply steady.
"You burn too hot," Lyra whispered. "But even fire needs grounding."
Kaelin's breath hitched. Her hand trembled, but she didn't pull away. Their eyes met, and for the first time, Ryan saw not rivalry but recognition — two women who had fought for the same man, now realizing they were also bound by something they hadn't chosen.
Ryan's chest tightened. He stepped back into the shadows, heart pounding. He didn't know what to feel — awe, fear, longing. The shard pulsed once, like a drumbeat in the silence.
---
The Kiss
Ryan wasn't sure what made Kaelin move — pride, defiance, or something she couldn't name. But she leaned forward suddenly, pressing her lips to Ryan's before he could speak. It was fierce, urgent, a claim as much as a kiss.
When she pulled back, her eyes blazed. "Don't you dare forget where your fire comes from."
Before Ryan could catch his breath, Lyra's hand caught his cheek, turning him toward her. Her kiss was softer, deeper — a promise instead of a demand. When she parted, her eyes glistened. "And don't forget who steadies you."
Ryan's knees felt weak. His pulse hammered in his ears. He looked between them, two women who had just laid bare what words couldn't.
Kaelin's fire. Lyra's calm. Both staring at him, both refusing to yield.
And Ryan realized with a sinking certainty that one day, he would have to choose.