They didn't speak of the Hollow King. Not tonight.
The forest glade was still, lit only by the fractured glow of the Bone Moon and the quiet flicker of fireflies drifting like stars that had come down to rest. The breeze carried no omens, no warnings. Just the scent of wildflowers and old earth.
Aure sat by the stream, legs tucked beneath him, watching the water dance over stones. Lian sat beside him, a quiet presence, eyes not on the stars, but on Aure, always on Aure.
"Do you remember this place?" Lian asked softly.
Aure shook his head. "No. But it feels like I should."
"You should," he said. "It's where we first kissed."
Aure turned to him, lips parted, surprise blooming.
"I... I've had dreams," he whispered. "But they were foggy. You were there… your voice, your hands. But it always faded before I could reach you."
Lian reached out, brushing his fingers against Aure's. "I waited here. Every year. On this night. Just in case your soul remembered."
Aure stared at their joined hands, then up into his eyes,like emerald mirrors holding a storm of longing. "It's strange. I don't fully remember that kiss… but I want to. I want to make a new memory."
Lian leaned in slowly, giving him time to move away, but he didn't.
Their lips met like old rivers finding the same ocean.
No fire. No desperation. Just warmth. Truth. The unspoken ache of time undone.
Aure gasped against his mouth, hands curling into his shirt. The sigil on his chest throbbed, and Lian's mark answered, flaring softly. As if their very souls had leaned in too, drawn toward each other like constellations finally aligning.
They lay together in the tall grass, tangled in silence and soft laughter. Lian traced the curve of Aure's cheek, whispering names he hadn't dared speak in years. Aure hummed a tune only the stars could recognize.
And for that night, the world let them be.
No swords. No past. No prophecies.
Just Aure and Lian. Heart to heart. Scar to scar. Breath to breath.
Until the sun began to rise.
And the shadows began to stir.