The road bent south, following the line of the mountains until the ridge shrank to a shadow behind them. No silence lingered now — only the ordinary sounds of earth remembering itself: sparrows at dawn, wheels of carts squeaking, the bark of a stray dog in a village where hope had dared to breathe again.
Andy, Nia, and Aurelia traveled on foot, this time. The air smelled different when you moved through it at a mortal pace — pine and dust, the iron tang of a forge in some farmer's shed, bread baking in a clay oven you passed without slowing. Villagers they passed bowed or stepped back, whispering blessings. Andy didn't acknowledge them, save with the steady pace of someone who had no interest in being worshiped.
By evening, they reached a small town where the roads met a river bend. Lanterns already flickered above stalls, smoke of grilled fish curling into twilight. The inn was modest, wooden walls darkened by rain and time. The innkeeper blinked at the three of them and, seeing their condition, offered two rooms at once.
Before Andy could answer, Aurelia tilted her head and smirked. "Two rooms, perfect. Less noise complaints."
Nia's brow arched, sharp as her staff when drawn. "You'll take the one furthest from ours."
Andy only inclined his head, amused despite himself. "Two rooms," he confirmed.
The innkeeper hurried to prepare them, laying fresh bedding that smelled faintly of lavender and straw. By the time night pressed against the shutters, the little town had quieted, leaving only the occasional clop of hooves and the murmur of the river.
---
Nia's chamber was lit by a single oil lamp, its flame soft, making the edges of her hair glow gold. She stood by the window, robe loosened at her throat, eyes lifted toward the night sky. Her fingers traced the glass as though she could draw constellations directly into it.
Andy entered without knocking. She didn't startle — she had expected him.
"You didn't stay with Aurelia," she said quietly.
"I didn't," he replied, voice even. "Tonight isn't hers."
She turned, lips curving into something softer than a smile but heavier than silence. "Then make it mine."
The system did not intrude at first. It let the room breathe — the scent of lavender from the bedding, the heat of skin under fingers, the sound of robes loosening to fall in whispers. They moved like a promise honored rather than a conquest claimed.
Nia's touch was slow, reverent; Andy's hands steady, grounding. Their mouths found each other in patience first, then urgency. She sighed into him, soft as a prayer. He answered with presence more than force, fire steadied by water, strength wrapped in quiet.
The lamp guttered once, flame bending as though it, too, bowed. The mattress creaked, sheets twisting, breaths caught and released. Her hair clung damp to her cheek, her voice broke into fragments — his name, promises, laughter swallowed by kisses.
The system finally chimed, woven into their rhythm like heartbeat.
[Bond Pulse ↑↑↑]
Nia — Saturation Threshold Reached
Bond Progress: ⭐ MAX
Reward Unlocked: Lumina Constellation Form (Tier III)
Skill: [Glyph Ascendant EX]
— Cast without voice or gesture.
— Range doubled.
— Can inscribe in aura-field (lasting constructs).
Andy's vision blurred briefly with the glow, but he did not stop. He held her tighter, grounding her when her body arched with the surge of power. Her sigh turned to a cry muffled against his chest. Her nails raked gently down his back, not to wound, but to mark belonging.
When it was over, they lay tangled, breath slowing, sweat cooling into the scent of salt and lavender. Nia rested her cheek against his heart, lips curved in satisfaction edged with possession. "Mine," she whispered. "First, and last."
Andy pressed his lips to her hair, silent agreement.
---
Much later, when the lamp had burned low and Nia slept soundly, Andy slipped from the bed. He dressed in silence, the floorboards creaking only once under his heel.
He crossed the narrow hall, stopping outside the other door. His hand lingered on the wood. For a moment, he stood still, breathing the cool night air that slid through the rafters.
Then he opened it.
Aurelia's voice, soft and amused even in drowsiness, greeted him through the dark. "Took you long enough, Dragon."
The door closed behind him.
And the night did not end.