The forest was still recovering.
Charred leaves floated gently down like dying snowflakes, and the scorched scent of burned magic still lingered in the air. But in the heart of the clearing, peace had settled—fragile, glowing, and real.
Elena sat on a stone at the edge of the altar ruins, knees drawn to her chest. The sky had turned a deep velvet, stars pricking through the fading smoke like timid lanterns. She stared at them, silent, breath even, heart full.
She felt him before she saw him.
Dorian stepped out of the shadows as if they'd made room for him. He no longer carried the storm. No wings of fire. No blazing runes. Just Dorian—quiet, tall, and watching her like she was the only star in the sky that mattered.
He approached slowly. "You should rest."
She turned her head slightly, a soft smile brushing her lips. "And miss this?"
He tilted his head. "The ruins?"
"No. This." Her eyes found his. "The first night where I'm not running, hiding, or bleeding."
He moved closer, settling beside her on the stone. His warmth seeped through her skin like a gentle flame. She leaned slightly against his shoulder, not speaking.
"You were right, you know," she said eventually.
"About what?"
"You tried to protect me. From the truth. From yourself. I hated it, but... I get it now."
Dorian's jaw tightened. "I didn't want you to see the part of me that could kill without blinking. That part that... remembers what I used to be."
She looked up at him. "You're not that anymore."
"Sometimes I feel like I'm still both."
"You are." She reached out, touching his hand. "But you chose not to destroy. That's what matters."
He turned his palm to meet hers. Their fingers intertwined with a soft click, like puzzle pieces falling into place.
"Elena," he said, voice low, rough with emotion. "I've walked through centuries. Woken to burning worlds. Fought monsters that used to be kings. But I've never—never—feared anything more than losing you."
She swallowed, heart leaping.
"Even when I didn't know why," he continued, "I felt drawn to you. As if every thread of my being was tied to yours. Every lifetime, every version of myself, pulling toward one truth: you."
Her chest ached in the most beautiful way.
"I've dreamed of you," she whispered. "When I was a child, I used to wake up crying, missing someone I didn't know. It was always you."
A silence bloomed between them, deeper than words, filled with starlight and something ancient.
Dorian turned to face her fully. "You deserve more than what I am. More than shadows and prophecy. You deserve soft mornings and a world that doesn't demand your blood."
She leaned in, forehead brushing his. "Then build that world with me."
His breath caught.
"You still want that? Even knowing what I am? What we're caught in?"
"I want you, Dorian. Not the legend. Not the power. Just the man who stayed when everyone else ran."
His lips brushed hers—soft, uncertain.
Elena leaned in, kissing him fully.
The world melted.
His hands found her waist, her back, pulling her closer like he'd been waiting lifetimes just to hold her without fear. Her fingers curled into his coat, anchoring herself to the moment, to him. It was fire and quiet, gravity and peace.
When they broke apart, foreheads still pressed together, Elena whispered, "Promise me something."
"Anything."
"No more secrets. No more pushing me away 'for my safety.' We face this together now."
His eyes darkened—not with magic, but with fierce tenderness. "You have my word. I will burn kingdoms before I break that promise."
She smiled. "That's a little dramatic."
"I'm a little dramatic."
They both laughed.
Above them, the stars shifted. A constellation flickered briefly—a symbol of twin flames entwined. Neither of them noticed.
But something ancient did.
Far beyond the edge of the forest, something woke.
It had watched Dorian's display. Felt the tremble in the weave of power. And it remembered her—the girl of flame and choice. It whispered Miles's name to the wind.
But for now, beneath the ash and stars, Dorian and Elena held each other, wrapped in the fragile safety of a love long overdue.