Morning came grey and cold. The sky above the ridge was blanketed in thick cloud, the kind that swallowed sound and made the world feel smaller. Quieter. More dangerous.
They didn't speak as they packed. Not because there was nothing to say — but because neither knew how to begin.
Lyra stole glances at Kael. He moved with a warrior's precision, but there was something softer in his silence today. Not guilt. Not fear.
Just waiting.
Like he would wait forever if she needed him to.
The trail ahead sloped into mist-choked forest. Trees rose like cathedral pillars, bark stained black by ancient fire. Magic pulsed faintly through the roots — a remnant of the old world, and not a friendly one.
"This forest," Lyra said, voice low, "it doesn't like outsiders."
Kael flexed his hand. "Then it's going to hate us."
They made it only ten minutes in before the trees began to shift.
It was subtle at first. Branches that bent the wrong way. Shadows that stretched too far.
Then a whisper.
Soft. Inhuman.
Calling Lyra's name.
She froze.
Kael reached for her, hand closing around her wrist.
"Don't listen to it."
But her eyes had already glazed. Her breathing hitched. Magic flickered around her like a broken halo.
"Kael?" she whispered. "My mother—she's in there—I can hear her voice—"
Kael turned sharply.
"There's nothing there, Lyra. It's illusion. The forest is twisting your mind."
She tried to pull away.
Kael held firm.
"Look at me."
She struggled. Panic rising. Magic surging.
And then — he pulled her into him.
Hard.
So close their bond roared to life.
"LOOK AT ME!"
She gasped, blinked—
And saw him.
Not the vision. Not the lie.
Kael.
Her anchor.
Her body collapsed against his, trembling.
"I almost believed it," she whispered.
"I won't let you get lost," he said against her hair. "Even if it breaks me."
His arms were warm. Solid. Real.
And in that moment, she let herself lean.
Not fully.
But enough.
They moved slowly through the rest of the forest. Kael never let go of her hand. His touch grounded her, cutting through the false whispers, the shifting illusions, the haunted trees that tried to worm their way into her thoughts.
When they finally emerged on the other side, Lyra fell to her knees.
But this time, she wasn't afraid.
She was grateful.
Later, at camp, she sat beside Kael without being asked.
"I didn't want to trust you," she said. "But you didn't give me a choice."
He looked at her. "Do you regret it?"
She shook her head.
"No. I think I needed to be caught before I let myself fall."
He reached over, gently brushing his fingers against her wrist.
"And now?"
"I haven't landed yet," she said. "But I'm not afraid of the fall anymore."
She leaned in — and this time, she kissed him.
A soft, lingering brush of lips that carried no urgency, no desperation.
Just truth.
And Kael? He didn't move. Didn't deepen it.
But he didn't let go either.