After the Fire
The camp smelled of iron and ash. The fires of war still smoldered in the distance, their smoke curling into the evening sky like black serpents. The soldiers moved about in silence, tending wounds, gathering the fallen, repairing shields dented by shadow-forged blades.
And at the heart of the camp, in a pavilion lit by a single brazier, Aelion sat with his crown discarded, his cloak in tatters. He had fought like a king today, but his body ached like a man.
Kaelen entered quietly, a fresh cut across his jaw, his armor darkened with soot. The sight of him—alive, whole—sent relief rushing through Aelion so fiercely it left him breathless.
"You should rest," Kaelen said, though his own exhaustion was carved deep in his voice.
"And you?" Aelion asked, lifting his gaze.
Kaelen hesitated before answering. "I will rest when you do."
Their bond still thrummed, softer now, like a fading echo of battle. It was not just a tether of fate—it had become a rhythm, a heartbeat neither could silence.
The Kiss Remembered
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken memory. Aelion's hand drifted unconsciously to his lips, and Kaelen's eyes followed the motion before darting away.
"You felt it too," Aelion whispered.
Kaelen's throat worked as if swallowing words he dared not speak. Finally, his voice came, low and raw. "It was more than a kiss. It was the bond revealing itself. For a moment, I saw you as no one else ever has."
Aelion rose, stepping close enough that the brazier's glow painted their faces in gold. "And what did you see?"
Kaelen's jaw clenched, torn between restraint and truth. "A man who carries the weight of the sun. A man who fears that if he shines too brightly, he will burn everyone he loves. And yet—" His hand lifted, hovering near Aelion's cheek before he forced it back down. "—and yet I would stand in that fire willingly."
Aelion's breath trembled. "Then do not step back from me now."
For a heartbeat, Kaelen looked ready to surrender. But duty still chained him. He bowed his head. "If I cross that line again, there will be no return."
Aelion's hand lingered at his side, aching to close the distance. But he let silence fall, knowing the bond had already tied them more deeply than words could.
Whispers in the Council
The next day, messengers brought word to the palace. The council gathered in the throne room, Varros among them, his smile thin and sharp.
"The reports are troubling," muttered one lord. "They say the prince and his guard fought as though they were one man."
"Not one man," Varros corrected smoothly. "One soul. Bound by a force that is… unnatural."
The others shifted uneasily, their whispers like hissing serpents. "If such a bond exists, could it not be turned against us?"
Varros leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "It already is. Do you not see? The prophecy spoke of only one. Yet the prince has chained himself to another. If left unchecked, this will doom us all."
The council murmured their assent, fear outweighing reason. Varros allowed himself a small smile. The more they feared the bond, the easier it would be to use that fear as a weapon.
In the Stillness of Night
Back at camp, night fell heavy. The men finally slept, their breaths mingling with the wind. Aelion sat awake, unable to close his eyes. The comet's glow still haunted the horizon, red and unyielding.
A soft step sounded. Kaelen lowered himself beside him, silent as shadow. For a long moment, they simply sat together, watching the stars.
"Do you regret it?" Aelion asked suddenly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Kaelen turned his head. "Regret what?"
"The kiss."
Kaelen's eyes softened, though his lips did not smile. "I regret only that I cannot give you more."
The words struck Aelion deeper than any blade. He reached out, not for a kiss this time, but for Kaelen's hand. Their fingers intertwined, warm and sure.
And in that quiet, in the fragile peace between storms, the bond pulsed once more—not with fire, not with battle, but with the simple truth of two souls choosing each other, no matter the cost.