The room was smaller than Kael expected.
Stone walls, low ceiling, a single window letting in a strip of moonlight. No maps, no advisors, no witnesses. Just him, Lyra, and the weight of unspoken rules.
A small table had been placed at the center, two chairs at either side. Orders from the neutral mediators were clear: private strategy session. One hour. No interruptions. Every word monitored, but only between them.
Kael entered first. Lyra was already there, arms crossed, shadow pooling at her feet like liquid ink. Her silver-veined skin caught the faint moonlight.
He felt the pull before he even stepped inside.
A subtle resonance. Not deliberate magic, not fire, not shadow. Something in the alignment between them.
He paused. The hairs on his arms prickled. Solar essence responded instinctively.
She looked up and smiled faintly. Not warmth. Not mockery. Recognition.
"You feel it too," she said.
"I do," he replied.
Neither moved toward the table. Both instinctively stopped a pace from the center.
Lyra's shadow rose slightly from the floor, reacting to him—unbidden. It curled around the edges of the room, not attacking, not defending, just… acknowledging presence.
Kael's flame flickered beneath his skin, white at the edges, restrained by sheer will.
"You're not supposed to be affected yet," she murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "We're supposed to be strategizing, not… this."
"I control it," he said evenly. "I always control it."
Her lips twitched—half smile, half warning. "We'll see."
He took a seat. She mirrored him. Their shoulders nearly brushed across the narrow table.
Instantly, the subtle pull intensified. He felt it in his chest, a rhythmic pulse matching her shadow's movement. Not hostile. Not friendly. Charged.
The table between them might as well have been gone.
They began the session anyway. Lines of supply, troop rotations, projected Eclipse surges. Words flowed, calculations and contingencies. Every time their hands reached for the same marker, their eyes met. Every glance was a test, every pause an unspoken challenge.
"You're too precise," Kael said quietly, leaning forward slightly as his fingers hovered above a marker. "It's almost… unnerving."
"And you," Lyra replied, voice lower now, "hold back more than I expected. I can feel it."
She did. He could feel it—the subtle shift of her essence reacting to his fire. He noticed a faint pulse in the shadows curling at her feet. They moved slightly when his pulse rose. Not touch. Not attack. Response.
Kael allowed a whisper of warmth to flow outward. White edges flared. Lyra's shadow rippled—half a step closer than it had any right to.
Both stiffened.
Neither moved away.
Minutes passed like hours. The candlelight flickered, shadows dancing against the walls. Every word, every gesture, was charged.
"You are… infuriating," she said softly. Not accusatory. Precise. Calculated.
Kael's jaw flexed. "You're worse."
She leaned slightly forward, enough for her elbow to brush his hand as she gestured to the map. Almost unintentional. Almost.
A flicker of heat shot through him. White edges flared briefly before he forced control. Her shadow lifted slightly—reactive again.
Neither spoke of it. Neither admitted it. Neither moved back.
Finally, Lyra leaned back, exhaling slowly. "This… closeness," she said quietly, "it's going to be a problem when the ritual begins."
Kael studied her face in the low moonlight. His voice was low, almost a rumble. "I think it already is."
Her shadow shifted behind her in acknowledgment.
For the first time, Kael understood: the ritual would not merely test mastery of fire and shadow. It would test their ability to exist in the same space without breaking one another.
And the closer they sat, the stronger the pull became—like gravity, inevitable, invisible, and irresistible.
Lyra's eyes flicked down at the table. "Do you feel it too?"
Kael's gaze held hers. "Every second."
A pause. No words needed.
Outside, the wind moaned through the ruins. Inside, fire and shadow held their own, not touching—but sensing, calculating, anticipating.
When the hour ended, they rose almost simultaneously. Their movements mirrored each other, deliberate, measured. Not touching. Not fleeing.
But both knew something had changed.
Something unspoken had begun.
And the world outside—the kingdoms, the Eclipse energy, the ritual waiting to happen—was about to notice.