The first thing Vastarael felt when he woke up was warmth. The second thing was the weight. Two bodies were snuggled close, one on each side of him, curled into his torso. He looked to his left. Elyonari, who was curled against his shoulder, her arm draped lazily over his chest. A faint smile touched her lips, even in sleep. Then to his right was Adelasta. Her expression was softer than anyone who knew her would ever believe, resting with one arm wrapped around his waist, her fingers clutching his tunic like she was afraid he might disappear.
But one person was missing.
He could tell before he even sat up fully. Narisva wasn't here. Her presence was always distinct. The bed was cooler on her side too, meaning she had been up for a while. He slowly and carefully lifted Adelasta's hand from his shirt, slipping out from under her arm and doing the same with Elyonari. They both stirred but didn't wake. He smiled faintly.
He stood, stretched and walked out of the room barefoot, his long curly white hair messy, the sunlight from the window casting a faint shimmer along his back as he moved. He headed down the stairs and the scent hit him first. He descended the last few steps, turned the corner, and there she was.
She was wearing a crisp white apron tied around her waist over a breezy summer outfit. Her long dark starry hair was tied in a loose braid that draped over one shoulder and she was standing in front of what could only be described as a mystic cooker. It resembled an oven gas cooker, except the heating plates shimmered with Heat Runes, likely reacting to her Spatial Energy. She was humming something soft and tuneless.
The breakfast setup for ten was already half-prepared on the long table beside her. Cutlery was arranged precisely and small trays of fruit and vegetables sat at the center of the table. He just stared. And honestly for a moment, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.
Divines didn't need food or drink. At least not all of them. Mortals and immortal Divines had flexibility. They could go days without nourishment, weeks even, if their bodies were tempered well enough. But Divines born from divine origin, like the Sentina Erideae… they didn't need food at all. Their bodies operated purely on energy, and their cells didn't break down the way mortal and immortal physiology did.
Yet here she was, cooking.
"You're awake early," she said without turning around.
"How'd you know I was here?"
Vastarael asked, walking closer, his voice low and still somewhat hoarse from sleep.
"I always know when you're behind me. Besides, your energy signature is a bit... obvious."
"I see you've become a domestic wife in the past two hours."
Narisva rolled her eyes and flicked a sliced blue-pepper into a pan. "Don't tempt me. If I start enjoying this too much, I'll forget I'm the strongest Divine of Sentina Erideae."
Vastarael laughed and stepped beside her, picking up a small bowl of red-veined vegetables.
"You know, I never thought I'd see you in an apron."
"You should thank the Primordials for this outfit. It's hot here and even I can feel it. Imagine what Ascenders would go through if they stepped foot on this island. They'd be liquified in minutes."
"Is that exaggeration or confidence?"
"Both."
Her smile faded slightly when she looked at him. She set the spatula down and gently touched his chest, just over the pseudo-cores that had been overworking itself for the past few days. She focused. Her hand glowed faintly. A second later, she sighed.
"Good. It's stabilizing."
"You sound relieved."
"I am relieved," she replied softly, withdrawing her hand and placing it gently on his cheek. "I… I didn't like seeing you that weak like that yesterday. You looked too… breakable."
He leaned into her touch just a little. "I'm fine, Nari."
"Don't 'Nari' me. You almost collapsed. Again. You use Soul Energy like it's air. Do you realize that not even gods use that often?"
Vastarael looked away, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah… you're starting to sound like Adelasta."
"Oh no. I sound worse."
They both laughed quietly. She then turned back to the mystic cooker and passed him a basket of fruits.
"Start slicing."
"Yes chef."
They worked in tandem. She was good at this, even if she didn't admit it. There was an elegance to how she moved, how she controlled the heat of the runes and how she seasoned things by instinct. And Vastarael, ever the meticulous soul, matched her pace and precision.
Eventually, Narisva said, "You know… if you keep waking up before the others like this, we could do this more often."
Vastarael blinked, looking at her sideways.
"Are you asking me to join your domestic life?"
"Maybe."
"I thought you were going to sleep half the day before cooking breakfast."
"I can do both."
"Fair enough."
Then, before he could respond again, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. It was quick, warm, and left a lingering heat that had nothing to do with the cooker.
"You're not the only one who can act like a lovely spouse," she whispered.
Vastarael looked at her, stunned for a second. Then he smiled.
"Okay, that was unfair."
"Exactly."
About ten minutes later, the table was set for ten with perfectly arranged plates and steaming dishes waiting patiently for their divine guests.
Narisva placed down the last piece of fruit on the center platter and wiped her hands with the soft cloth towel slung over her shoulder. She had never imagined herself in this situation. At least not in a domestic morning in a tropical paradise, wearing an apron and sandals, brushing sweat off her face while preparing breakfast for friends and... for him. It felt right. Which, coming from her, a woman forged in blood, revenge and ancient bloodlines, was saying a lot. She turned around, expecting to find Vastarael sitting at the edge of the kitchen counter, maybe already starting to eat. Instead, she saw him standing by the open door that led to the terrace, already dressed, glaive slung lazily across his back, his loose white shirt fluttering a little in the soft wind that blew in from the cliffs.
His expression told her everything.
"You're not going to eat," she said quietly but not without a pinch of disappointment threading through it.
Vastarael turned his head toward her, sheepish smile forming, guilt flickering across his eyes.
"I know, and I'm sorry. I really am. I just… I need to get started on prepping the meal for the beach later. If I don't plan the portions and stuff right now, it'll get chaotic later. Timing is everything with meat this size. I need to figure out how much energy to channel…"
"You're talking like a chef god again," Narisva said with a soft sigh, one hand on her hip, the other lightly wiping a tiny spot on the wooden counter.
"I... maybe I'm becoming one."
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"So you're leaving without tasting anything I made?"
There it was. There was that tiny edge in her voice that always made him freeze. Not because she was angry—Narisva rarely raised her voice—but because he could feel the honesty behind her words. The truth that she had put time and care into preparing something for him, and now he wasn't even going to enjoy it.
"I didn't mean it like that. I—"
She held up a finger, silencing him gently.
"Save the apology. Just make me a sapphire box. One that can keep food hot."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. I want you to try something I made. And I don't care if it's in the middle of a rainforest or the moment before you throw spices into lava. You're going to eat it."
"You're kinda scary when you're serious."
She walked over and jabbed a finger into his chest, which somehow felt right since he was taller then her by a slightly wide margin. "I'm always scary. Just not always to you."
"Fair."
With a single wave of his hand, a floating sapphire crystal began to form in the air, expanding outward into a polished cuboid. He then drew Heat Runes on it. When it was done, he floated it down to the table. Narisva opened the lid, carefully transferred a plate onto the inner seal, then added another and another. She closed the cuboid and locked it with a soft press of her fingers on the rune above it. She turned to face him, holding it out with both hands. Her expression had shifted now. It wasn't disappointment anymore. It was soft, unwavering fondness.
"At least now you'll have something warm to eat. Just don't skip meals too much. Even if you're a Divine, you burned through too much Soul Energy already. Even your body needs time."
He took the cuboid slowly, his fingers brushing against hers. He looked down at the box, then up into her deep, shimmering starry eyes.
"I'm sorry. Not just for skipping breakfast. For making you worry. And for not noticing it sooner."
Narisva shook her head. "You don't need to apologize anymore. Just stop pushing yourself so hard."
"I can't promise that," he said with a small laugh. "But I'll try."
She sighed again, then pulled him forward by his collar, kissed him gently on the lips and lingering just a second longer than usual. Her fingers remained curled lightly against the fabric at his neck, as if hesitant to let go.
When she pulled back, her voice dropped into a whisper.
"Don't overexert yourself."
"I won't. I promise."
Then, without another word, he stepped out the terrace door, the sapphire cuboid in one hand, the other lazily adjusting his glaive. Narisva stood in the doorway, watching his figure disappear down the path, the sea breeze pulling at her apron and loose hair. She leaned on the doorframe, her arms crossed as a small smile crept onto her face.
"He's such a strange guy," she said quietly, to no one in particular.
Then she laughed once, a soft, airy sound.
"But I really do like it."