The night air reeked of ash, wet stone, and something that smelled suspiciously like burned hair. Kael Veyron crouched atop a jagged cliff, his cloak whipping in the wind, staring down at the sea of clouds below. Somewhere in that mist, monsters waited. Big, angry, and hungry monsters.
"Fantastic," Kael muttered, brushing ash off his gauntlet. "Another night where I might die violently. And alone, apparently."
A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. He didn't flinch. He knew that silhouette anywhere.
"You really shouldn't be wandering alone," came the voice—smooth, sharp, and infuriatingly calm.
Kael turned to see her: Lyra Selene. Long black hair spilling like ink, eyes that could cut glass, and a smirk that promised both trouble and…something else. Something he wasn't supposed to think about.
"And you shouldn't be here," he replied, voice teasing, though his heart refused to follow his instructions. "But somehow, it's slightly more comforting."
Lyra's eyebrow arched. "Comforting? I don't even like you, and yet, here I am. Intriguing."
Kael grinned. "See? I do have that effect on people. Don't fight it."
Before Lyra could fire back, the cliff trembled. Deep in the mist, hulking beasts—eyes molten metal, claws like twisted steel—emerged from the fog. Their growls vibrated through the stone beneath Kael's feet.
"Well, that's just rude," Kael said, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his blade. "Shall we?"
Lyra rolled her eyes, unsheathing her twin daggers in a flash of moonlight. "Don't embarrass yourself."
Kael leapt down first, blade slicing through the air as the nearest beast lunged. Sparks flew as steel met claw, and Kael let out a laugh that sounded dangerously like joy.
"You're insane," Lyra called over the roar of battle.
"And yet, here I am, alive!" he shouted back, dodging another swipe. "Insanity's working out just fine for me!"
They fought in perfect, chaotic rhythm. Kael's strikes were heavy, explosive, almost reckless, while Lyra moved like liquid shadow, precise and elegant. A moment of silence between attacks, and Kael noticed her eyes lingered on his scars—old burns, old failures. He felt his chest tighten.
"Stop staring," he said gruffly, hiding the sudden heat in his chest.
"I'm not staring," she said smoothly, smirking. "I'm…observing. Very carefully."
The creatures howled, closing in faster. Kael leapt onto one's back, driving his blade into its armored spine, while Lyra spun around, daggers whistling through the air. Blood spattered, smoke rose, and the cliff trembled beneath the chaos.
When the last beast fell, Kael and Lyra stood panting, bruised but alive, staring at the aftermath. Silence wrapped around them like a cold, unwelcome blanket.
Kael finally broke it. "Well…that was fun."
Lyra's smirk softened—just a fraction. "You always find a way to make death sound charming."
"Charm is my middle name," Kael said, brushing ash off his sleeve. "Though, technically, it's 'Kael.'"
They laughed. Brief, sharp, dangerous—the kind of laughter that dances on the edge of something neither of them wanted to name yet.
Above them, the clouds swirled. Somewhere in the distance, a pulse of dark energy thrummed through the air—ominous, promising more challenges, more battles, and, if Kael was lucky, more moments like this one.
"Come on," he said, sheathing his blade. "Let's go find trouble. Preferably the kind that doesn't try to eat us alive."
Lyra nodded, just slightly, her eyes lingering on him again. "Lead the way, Kael Veyron. But remember…trouble has a way of finding you anyway."
And as they disappeared into the mist together, the cliff fell silent. Except for the faintest echo of laughter—and the whisper of destiny waking in the shadows.