The storm hadn't stopped.
It only learned how to whisper.
Elara stood at the edge of the ruins, rain crawling down her skin like cold fingers. The sky above was black, except for the faint veins of light that pulsed whenever thunder rolled across the horizon.
Behind her, Lucien watched in silence — the fire inside him dimmed, but not gone. Never gone.
He looked like something made of the storm itself — broken, but still burning enough to terrify the dark.
"You should rest," he said quietly.
"And dream of what? Fire? Blood? You?"
She turned, her voice trembling more from feeling than fear.
Lucien didn't move. "You saw what I am. You shouldn't want to be near it."
"And yet here I am," she whispered.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the storm didn't matter.
There was something raw between them — something that shouldn't have existed between a weapon and the girl who carried his mark.
Elara took a step forward. "When you touched me that night… it didn't just burn, Lucien. It felt like something remembered me."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "That's because the Genome doesn't just bind souls — it searches for echoes."
"Echoes?"
"People who were connected in another life."
She stared at him, her lips parting as her heartbeat raced.
"You mean—"
He nodded, slowly. "Maybe that's why it chose you."
The rain began to fall harder, washing the ashes from their faces, but not the weight between their words.
"You think I was meant to find you?" she asked.
"No," he said, voice low. "I think you were meant to end me."
Lightning flashed. For a moment, she saw his face clearly — the exhaustion, the guilt, and that flicker of something deeper buried beneath both.
She stepped closer.
"Then let me decide what I'm meant to do."
Lucien froze as her hand rose, fingers brushing against the side of his face.
The mark on her wrist glowed brighter — gold light bleeding between their skin. The world seemed to tilt, soundless, until all that existed was the space between them.
And then — a pulse.
Power rippled through both of them, wrapping their bodies in faint light.
Lucien inhaled sharply, his control slipping. "Elara… stop. You don't know what this does—"
"Then show me," she said, voice trembling.
The words hit him harder than the thunder ever could.
He gripped her wrist, but instead of pulling her away, he held it — as if afraid of what would happen if he let go.
The fire in their marks connected again — not burning this time, but fusing.
The light turned crimson, and for a heartbeat, they both saw fragments that weren't their own —
A battlefield of broken wings.
A promise made under blood-red skies.
Two souls choosing each other when the world called it a curse.
The power faded, leaving them breathless.
Elara collapsed against him, trembling. "What was that?"
Lucien's voice was barely a whisper. "A memory… that wasn't supposed to survive."
"Ours?"
He didn't answer — just looked at her with a kind of pain that words couldn't describe.
Then he said softly, "If the Genome brought us back together… then it won't stop until one of us breaks."
She looked up at him, her silver eyes reflecting his fire.
"Then maybe this time, we don't break," she whispered.
Lucien almost smiled — the kind that hurt more than it healed. "Hope is dangerous, Elara."
"So am I," she replied.
The wind roared again, and somewhere in the distance, a horn echoed — the hunters had found their trail.
But neither of them moved.
Because for that single moment, between thunder and silence, the world had remembered what it felt like to be human — even if they weren't anymore.