Later that night, the village celebrated. But Charlisa and Kael slipped away, walking hand in hand to the edge of the lavender field where their new home—a dome-shaped hut of woven reeds and bark—awaited them.
Inside, soft animal furs lined the floor, and the scent of crushed lavender and warm resin filled the air. The doorway was draped with a curtain of beads that chimed softly in the wind.
Charlisa stood in the center, watching Kael approach. He paused, looking at her with reverence. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "I want to feel close to you—not just in thought, but in every way."
Kael cupped her face, kissing her forehead first, then her cheeks, and finally her lips. The kiss deepened slowly, full of unspoken promises. He lifted her gently, laying her down among the furs, his wings wrapping protectively around them.
Their clothes slipped away like water, nothing rushed or careless. Every touch was deliberate—his hands tracing the curve of her hip, her fingers mapping the ridges of muscle on his chest. When they joined, it was quiet at first—a shared gasp, a melding of breath and warmth.
Charlisa felt the world blur around the edges. Their movements were slow, rhythmic, attuned. Kael whispered her name like a prayer, her responses soft and breathy, hands grasping, grounding him.
Their bond was more than physical—it was energy passing between two souls aligned.
Afterward, they lay tangled in each other, her head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath her cheek. The lavender scent wrapped around them like a blessing.
"I've never felt more myself," she whispered.
"You were always whole," Kael replied, his voice low. "I just see all of you."
In the quiet of their hut, surrounded by stars and soil, the first night of their new life began—not as strangers, not as lost souls, but as partners who had chosen each other in every way.
And as the lavender swayed outside, their breath fell into the same rhythm—united, enduring, eternal.