The cabin was little more than rotted timber and moss, leaning into the mountainside like it had grown tired of standing upright. The windows were cracked. The door stuck on its hinges. No one had lived here in years.
But for now, it was home.
Mira sat curled beneath a moth-eaten blanket, staring at the fire that barely held itself together in the hearth. The heat helped, but not enough. Her bones still trembled, her body aching in places she didn't know could ache.
Her magic was quiet now.
Too quiet.
And she hated how much she missed it.
Xerces was at the table, hunched over what was left of the village map. It was scorched and torn. Mud smeared over the edges. His hood was down, dark hair falling into his face. He hadn't said much since they'd fled.
Mira finally broke the silence.
"You haven't asked how I feel."
Xerces looked up slowly.
"I already know."
"No," she said softly. "You think you know. But you've never actually asked."
The words hung between them. Not angry. Just honest.
Xerces leaned back, folding his arms, as if the motion alone could shield him from what came next.
"…How do you feel?"
She let out a bitter laugh, not because it was funny, but because it was too much.
"Like I'm losing everything. Like my skin's not mine anymore. Like I'm a danger to every person who's ever looked at me with kindness."
Xerces watched her, eyes dark, unreadable.
She shook her head.
"I didn't mean to do it, you know. The water. I didn't even think. It just… happened."
"You saved that girl," he said.
"And now the village wants to burn me alive."
"You still did the right thing."
She met his gaze.
"Does doing the right thing ever get easier?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly: "No."
The fire cracked. Shadows shifted on the walls.
"You've always been like this?" she asked. "Haunted. Hunted."
"I wasn't always what I am now," Xerces said.
"Then what changed?"
He stared at the flames, jaw tightening.
"…I died."
Mira looked at him, heart slowing.
"You died?"
He nodded once.
"It was a long time ago. In another world. Another life."
The silence stretched again, heavier now.
And then Mira did something strange.
She reached across the table, slowly, cautiously—and took his hand.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't cold either. Just… steady. Solid.
"I don't care what you were," she whispered. "I only care who you are now."
Xerces looked at her hand, then at her.
"You're not afraid?"
"I am," she admitted. "But I'm more afraid of going through this alone."
He said nothing.
But his fingers tightened around hers.
And in that quiet little cabin, for the first time since everything fell apart, they weren't alone anymore