I looked down, ashamed. "I never meant for it to happen. I've blamed myself every day since. I thought I could be stronger, that I could protect the people I care about. But instead, I was the cause of their death."
I met her eyes again, raw and honest. "That's why I hide who I really am, why I'm so afraid of my power. I don't want to hurt anyone else."
A silence stretched between us, thick but not heavy. Just shared understanding.
"You're not alone in that pain," she said softly, squeezing my hands. "We both carry our shadows. But together… maybe we can find the light."
Her words felt like a balm to my broken soul.
As her fingers tightened around mine, a warmth spread through the cold weight I'd been carrying for so long. The walls I'd built around myself—the guilt, the fear, the shame—began to crumble just a little. For the first time in years, I felt seen. Truly seen.
"I don't want to be defined by my mistakes," I said quietly, voice steadier now. "I want to be better—for you, for the child, for us."
Auralia's eyes softened, shimmering with something like hope. "We'll find a way. Together."
That night, something between us shifted. It was more than just friendship, more than shared pain. It was trust — fragile, but real.
From then on, when the world felt heavy and the darkness threatened to swallow me whole, I had her by my side. And when she struggled with her own shadows, I was there to hold her up.
Our bond became our strength. And with that strength, I finally dared to believe in a future — one where we both could heal.
The fire's warm glow danced across her face as we sat close, the quiet of the night wrapping around us. My chest tightened with the weight of everything I'd just shared — the darkness, the guilt — and yet, looking at her, I felt something I hadn't dared to feel before: hope.
I reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Auralia," I said, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know what the future holds. I don't even have anything fancy to give you. But this," I tightened my grip on her hand, "this is all I have to offer — my heart, my promise, that I want to face whatever comes, with you."
She looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears and something fierce.
"Will you… be with me? Not just as my friend — as my partner. My equal. My reason to keep going."
Her smile broke through the shadows, soft and certain.
"Yes," she breathed. "I will."
We stayed like that for a long moment, no words needed — just the quiet, steady beat of two hearts beginning to promise forever.
Her hand tightened around mine, warm and steady, and for a moment the world seemed to pause — the crackle of the fire, the whisper of the wind outside, all fading into the background.
I searched her eyes, seeing the quiet strength there, the same fierce loyalty and love that had pulled me from the darkness so many times before.
Auralia leaned in, her breath soft against my cheek. "You don't need a ring to make this real, Eiran. What matters is what's here," she said, placing a gentle hand over my heart.
A sudden smile tugged at the corners of my lips — the weight I'd carried for years felt just a little lighter, shared now, no longer mine alone.
"I'm scared," I admitted, voice low and rough. "But with you… maybe I'm ready to face it all."
Her fingers threaded through mine as she whispered, "We'll face it together."
The night stretched on, our hearts beating close, the future uncertain but somehow, for the first time, full of promise.
We stayed there, close together, the firelight painting gold across her skin and dancing in her eyes. My arm rested lightly around her waist as her head found its way to my shoulder, the world outside fading to silence.
I had never imagined peace could feel like this — like her. Her presence, always bright and unyielding, wrapped around the fractured parts of me and made them quieter. I thought of how many nights I'd spent afraid of what I was becoming… of what I had already become.
But here, with her in my arms and her heartbeat steady against my side, I dared to believe in something better. Maybe I wasn't beyond saving. Maybe loving her… being loved by her… was the anchor I hadn't known I needed.
I turned slightly, brushing a kiss across her forehead. "You saved me, Auri. More times than I can count."
I closed my eyes at his words. My chest tightened, not with pain but with something warmer — something deeper. I had tried so hard for so long to believe I wasn't just a shadow of the place I'd come from. That I could be more than a knife in the dark.
And he had seen that in me before I ever could. Even after the things I'd told him… after the mark… he still looked at me like I was worth something.
My fingers traced lightly along his chest, over the place where his heart beat beneath skin and scar. "You didn't need saving," I whispered. "You just needed someone to remind you how to feel again."
Her touch was gentle, reverent. And every time she looked at me like that, with so much understanding in her eyes, I felt seen. Truly seen. Not as the cursed, broken thing I feared I was — but as a man who could still choose what kind of future he wanted.
And gods help me… I wanted it with her.
I leaned up and kissed him — soft and slow, not driven by desire or lust but by the unspoken promise that we'd made. I had given myself to him, not just in body but in trust.
And I knew, without doubt, that even in a world full of chaos and danger, this was real.
We didn't speak for a while after that. We just held each other, as dawn slowly crept over the distant hills and painted the sky in pale light.
Tomorrow would come with its own battles. But tonight… Tonight we had each other. And for the first time in a long time — that was enough.