Chapter 243: Between Them
The Hollow thrummed with quiet energy in the wake of the festival, but in the quieter corners of the settlement, life returned to its steady rhythm. The council had resumed its duties, the people had gone back to their work, and the hum of rebuilding carried through the streets. Yet within the rhythm, new bonds were forming, quieter and more fragile than any stone wall.
Lyria and Azhara walked side by side through the Hollow's winding paths, the afternoon sun falling in slants of gold through the canopy above. It had been days since Kael had laughed away their secrecy, binding them into something new and strange. Since then, the air between the two women had shifted—not tense anymore, but charged with something unspoken.
"Do you ever notice," Azhara said suddenly, breaking the silence, "that when people look at us now, it's different?"
Lyria tilted her head. "Different how?"
"They don't see me as the healer on the edge of the circle anymore. They see me beside you. Beside Kael." Azhara's smile was small, almost shy. "I think they've started to accept me as part of this… whatever this is."
Lyria gave a quiet laugh. "You've earned that acceptance. It wasn't given lightly. The Hollow respects strength—and they see it in you now."
Azhara glanced at her, her amber eyes catching the light. "And what about you? Do you?"
The elf stopped, looking at her fully. For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then, softer than before: "Yes. I do."
They reached the edge of the training grounds where children practiced with wooden swords under Thalos's sharp eye. The two women lingered by the fence, watching for a while, their conversation lingering in the quiet between them.
Finally, Azhara spoke again, her voice low. "Lyria… if both of us are in a relationship with Kael, doesn't that mean—" She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "—that we're in a relationship with each other too?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and delicate all at once. Lyria's body stilled, her sharp eyes softening with surprise.
"That's… not how I've thought of it," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "Love between women isn't unheard of. But after Druaka…" She trailed off, her throat tightening, memories flashing behind her eyes. "I swore I would never open my heart that way again. Not to another woman."
Azhara turned, facing her more fully now. She didn't push, didn't demand—just reached out, brushing her fingers gently against Lyria's hand. "Then don't force it. Let it be what it is. Let it grow on its own, in its own time. If it becomes love, it becomes love. If it stays friendship, then that's just as precious. I don't mind either way."
Lyria blinked at her, stunned by the softness, the patience in her words. Most people she had known demanded certainty, demanded answers. But Azhara offered her space instead.
Slowly, Lyria's hand turned beneath Azhara's, their fingers lacing together. Her throat ached, but her words came steady. "You don't know what that means to me. To have the choice. To not be pressed."
Azhara smiled then, warm and gentle. "I only know that love shouldn't be a cage. It should be freedom."
For the first time in years, Lyria let herself smile in return—not sharp, not cold, but soft. "Then maybe," she said, her voice almost a whisper, "this is the beginning of something I thought I'd never have again."
The two women stood together in the fading sunlight, their hands still clasped, not lovers yet but not merely friends. Something in-between, something tender, something waiting to bloom. And in that quiet, both felt their bond deepen—not as Kael's companions, but as women who were choosing, for themselves, to let the walls around their hearts begin to fall.