The calm did not vanish when the sun began to climb higher.It lingered.
That was the strangest part.
I had learned, in this world and the one before it, that peace was temporary—something you held with both hands because it could be taken at any moment. Danger always followed stillness. Silence usually meant something was watching.
But this silence was different.
It breathed.
I sat where I was long after the words had settled between us, my back against the rough bark of a tree, fingers loosely clasped in my lap. Zhenyu remained nearby, standing just far enough away to pretend he wasn't guarding me. Kael had moved closer to the campfire, crouching to adjust the embers, his presence warm and grounding even when he didn't look at me.
No one spoke.
And yet, I had never felt so… included.
Eventually, it was Zhenyu who broke the quiet—not with words, but with motion. He removed his outer coat and draped it over my shoulders with a smooth, practiced ease, as if he had done it a hundred times before.
"You'll cool off when the light shifts," he said calmly.
I blinked, fingers curling instinctively into the fabric. It smelled faintly of pine and steel and something uniquely his. Not overwhelming. Just enough.
"…Thank you," I murmured.
He didn't answer, only inclined his head slightly and resumed his silent watch.
Kael glanced over his shoulder, lips quirking. "You know," he said lightly, "he never gives that coat to anyone."
Zhenyu shot him a look.
Kael grinned wider.
I felt warmth rise to my cheeks—not embarrassment, but something softer. Something that settled into my chest instead of tightening it.
They weren't teasing me.They were letting me see.
The day unfolded slowly after that. We packed the camp together, movements falling into an easy rhythm. When I reached for something heavy, it was already lifted. When I hesitated, unsure of direction, one of them was there—never grabbing, never pulling, just… guiding.
At one point, Kael handed me a waterskin without a word. Later, Zhenyu adjusted the strap of my pack when it slipped too low. Small things. Quiet things.
They didn't say stay again.
They didn't need to.
We reached the edge of the forest by midday, where the trees thinned and the ground softened into grass. I slowed unconsciously, my steps faltering as the world opened up in front of us.
Zhenyu noticed immediately.
He always did.
"Too much?" he asked, his voice low—not impatient, not demanding. Just aware.
I nodded once. "It's… different. Open."
Kael stepped to my other side, his presence easy and unthreatening. "We can rest here," he said. "No rush."
And just like that, we did.
They didn't argue. Didn't exchange looks. Didn't weigh options aloud.
They chose the moment because I needed it.
As we settled, I realized something that made my chest ache in a strange, tender way: they were adjusting to me. Not the other way around.
I wasn't a burden.
I wasn't something to endure.
I was someone to account for.
I sat down slowly, watching the grass sway in the breeze. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over stone. The sky stretched wide and blue above us, and for once, I didn't feel small beneath it.
Kael lay back with his hands behind his head, staring upward. "You know," he said casually, "when you first showed up, I thought you'd be gone in a day."
I turned my head toward him. "Really?"
He shrugged, unbothered. "Most people are."
Zhenyu didn't look at him, but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"And now?" I asked.
Kael rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze was steady—not playful this time, not teasing.
"Now," he said quietly, "the camp feels wrong when you're not in it."
Something in my chest gave way.
Zhenyu's eyes flicked toward Kael sharply.
The younger man held his gaze without backing down.
It wasn't hostility.It was truth.
Zhenyu exhaled slowly, then looked at me. His voice, when he spoke, was even—but there was something unguarded beneath it.
"You change the air," he said. "When you're gone, it's… thinner."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
So I didn't try to be clever. I didn't deflect. I didn't laugh it off.
"I'm afraid," I admitted instead. "That if I settle too much… I'll lose it."
Kael sat up immediately. Zhenyu turned fully toward me.
"Lose what?" Zhenyu asked.
"This," I said softly. "You. This place. The way it feels."
Silence fell again—but this time, it was heavy.
Zhenyu knelt in front of me, close enough that I could see the faint scar near his temple, the way his eyes darkened when he focused completely.
"You won't lose it," he said firmly.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because we are not something that disappears," Kael said from behind him. "And neither are you."
Zhenyu reached out, hesitating for just a breath before placing his hand over mine. His touch was warm. Steady.
"You stayed," he said. "That matters."
I closed my fingers around his hand before fear could stop me.
And in that moment, something shifted.
Not dramatically. Not violently.
Just… solidly.
That night, the fire burned low and steady. I sat between them, wrapped in Zhenyu's coat, listening to Kael talk about places they'd been—nothing dangerous, nothing heroic. Just memories. Small stories. Laughable mistakes.
They were letting me see them as people, not protectors.
When my eyes grew heavy, I didn't fight it.
Zhenyu noticed first, adjusting so I could lean against his shoulder without being asked. Kael tossed another log onto the fire, then settled close on my other side.
No one said goodnight.
No one needed to.
As sleep pulled me under, one thought settled gently in my mind, quiet and sure:
This wasn't the end.
It was the beginning of being missed.
And for the first time in my life, that thought didn't frighten me.
It felt like home.
I didn't plan to continue this story past the ending… but seeing you here made me stay.If you want to stay too, a Power Stone means more than you know.