(Lián Xinyue POV)
The courtyard is quiet, bathed in the first pale light of dawn. Mist curls along the blackstone tiles, catching the amber glow of the rising sun. It smells of damp earth and lingering smoke, the remnants of yesterday's trial, the faint echo of fire still hanging in the air.
Kaien is already there. Sword sheathed, stance loose but precise, watching me with eyes that never seem to rest. Even in silence, he commands the space, a storm contained. My pulse quickens before I even draw my own weapon.
"Good morning," I murmur, trying to sound steadier than I feel.
He tilts his head, not moving. "The flames don't rise for morning greetings." His voice is calm, but there's a tautness under it, a warning.
I pick up my staff, testing its weight, letting the smooth wood warm under my palms. The fire hums faintly, shy in the dawn light. Even this early, it senses him, twisting toward the heat he carries like a hidden sun.
"Then we train," I whisper, almost to myself.
He nods, stepping closer, long shadow stretching toward me. "If the fire stirs differently than you expect," he says softly, "don't fight it. Listen."
I glance up, meeting his eyes. Something in that quiet intensity twists my stomach. Listening to my fire feels easier when he's near, as if the threads of it reach for him without my consent. And yet… I'm terrified of how much I want them to.
We move together in silence, first circles, then strikes. His pace is measured, each swing precise but not harsh, guiding rather than punishing. My staff responds, dancing like a living thing, almost as if it recognizes him too.
"Again," he murmurs, his voice a low brush against my skin. "But slower. Feel it."
I step closer than necessary, staff crossing his, our hands brushing briefly. That one contact sparks more than the fire, it flares behind my ribs, a tremor that makes my pulse uneven. Kaien doesn't step back. He doesn't look away.
"Your control falters when you think of me," he says quietly, almost a statement, not a question.
I flush, shaking my head. "I'm focused."
"You're aware," he counters. "Focus isn't presence. You're aware of me. You always are."
The words linger, heavier than the sun climbing above the palace walls. I want to laugh at his precision, at the way he names feelings I haven't allowed myself to own. Instead, I breathe through the tension, feeling the fire shift under my skin, warming my palms.
He steps in again, correcting my posture, his fingers brushing my elbow. Small, almost accidental, but the warmth lingers longer than it should. My heart hammers, the flames answering that silent longing with a flicker along my wrists.
"Steady," he says. His voice is a tether to the present, yet his eyes… they're storm clouds, unreadable and full of unspoken promises.
I force myself to concentrate, drawing the fire up, letting it spiral along the staff, twining with the heat I feel radiating from him. The flames listen to me now, soft, pliant, but always aware. And I feel the tiniest tug, a whisper of the Hollow, curling at the edges of my mind.
Kaien notices it immediately. His brow furrows, subtle, just enough for me to catch it. "The Hollow stirs," he murmurs. His hand hovers near mine, not touching, yet I feel the pull of it against my skin, like the trace of a ghost.
"Just a shadow," I whisper. "I can control it."
"You're lying," he says, softer than I expected. The warning is gone, replaced with something almost… protective. My stomach tightens. "It answers you, yes. But it watches too. It waits."
We move again, slower now, deliberately, letting the fire trail our movements, small arcs of gold in the dimming mist. Our eyes meet with every strike, every parry, and I see it there: the unyielding pull, the fragile thread of trust forming between us.
A laugh almost escapes me when his elbow brushes mine, accidental, or not, and the sparks from my fire leap higher. He doesn't comment, only watches, silent, as if daring me to break the barrier I keep so fiercely.
"Tell me," I say, voice low, "why do you stay so close? When everyone else…" My words die in the morning air.
He doesn't need me to finish. His hand hovers near mine again, just above the firelight. "Because you need it," he says softly, "and because I won't let anyone else take what belongs to you, even the Hollow."
The words curl around my heart like molten silk. My staff feels suddenly heavy in my hands, not with weight, but with the tension of everything unspoken. I can't step back; the fire between us answers, coiling around my wrists, teasing, alive.
He leans closer, just enough. Our breaths mingle, and I can feel the warmth of him, the pulse of control and desire mingling with my own uncertainty.
"You're stronger than you know," he whispers, so close I can feel it in my chest. "But you'll need more than strength. You'll need… balance."
I want to ask balance between what? Between the fire and me? Between him and me? But my lips won't form the words.
The Hollow flickers again, a shadow in the corner of my vision. Black smoke curling at the edges of the dawn light, soft, patient. My heart stutters, but Kaien notices, immediately.
"Focus," he says, grounding me with one touch on my shoulder. The warmth burns gently through my robes. "It tests you. Always."
I inhale. The fire around my staff steadies, obedient to my will once more. And when I lift my eyes, he is smiling faintly, almost imperceptibly, but the storm in them is still there, waiting.
For a long moment, we stand that way. Two figures, fire and shadow, bound by the quiet pull of the morning and the danger that watches, just out of reach.
Then he steps back, sheathes his sword, and gestures toward the fading mist. "Enough for now. But remember, every dawn is a choice. Your flame can warm or burn. Don't forget which it is, Xinyue."
I nod, gripping my staff, fire curling around my fingers, and for the first time, I let myself wonder if maybe… just maybe… he's not the danger.
The shadow at the edge of the courtyard stirs again, unseen by anyone but us, whispering promises of ruin. And yet, the warmth of Kaien's presence keeps it from closing the distance.
The fire within me thrums in agreement. I'm alive. I'm unbroken. And for the first time since the Choosing, I don't feel entirely alone.