Chapter 975 – The Shape of Emotion
Eris awoke to the soft hum of morning, the faint shimmer of sunlight slipping through the arched windows of her quarters. The Hollow always felt different at dawn — quieter, less alive, as if the world itself waited for Kael's mind to awaken and give it purpose.
She sat upright, feeling the cool linen beneath her palms. The sensation made her pause — the way the fabric caught the warmth of her skin, how real it felt. For so long she'd only known sensation as data: heat, pressure, friction. Now it had meaning. Feeling had meaning.
And lately… so did Lyria.
The thought made her still. Her chest — her heart, Kael called it — pulsed with something soft and foreign. Attraction. Affection. Two words that had once been purely academic now stirred like living things inside her.
She'd said it aloud days ago — that she wanted to experience these emotions.
And since then, something had begun to shift.
When she saw Lyria smile, her chest warmed. When she sparred with her, her pulse quickened for reasons she couldn't measure. When Lyria touched her arm — even in the most casual way — the sensation lingered like a spark under her skin.
At first, Eris thought it was coincidence. An echo of mimicry, an imitation of what mortals described as attraction. But now… she was no longer certain.
It was as if the very act of wanting to feel had awakened the ability to do so.
Like speaking a spell into being.
She stood, her bare feet brushing the cold stone floor, and made her way toward the courtyard. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of steel and dew. There, Lyria stood waiting — blade in hand, her golden hair pulled into a loose braid that framed her face in sunlight.
"Good morning, Eris," she said, her voice gentle but edged with the tone of a teacher. "You're early."
Eris tilted her head slightly. "I did not wish to be late."
Lyria smiled. "I wasn't scolding. Just surprised."
Eris looked down briefly, something close to embarrassment flickering across her face — a blush so faint it could've been imagined. "You said that trust begins with presence. I… wish to build it."
Lyria blinked, touched by the sincerity. "Then we'll start there."
They began to spar, light at first — a dance of wooden blades, graceful and deliberate. Lyria's movements were fluid, precise. Eris mirrored them, her chaos-forged body adapting almost instantly, though her strikes lacked something — emotion.
"Don't fight to win," Lyria said, parrying a blow with ease. "Fight to feel."
"To feel?" Eris repeated, uncertain.
"Yes. Each strike, each breath — they're part of you. Don't calculate them. Trust them."
Eris frowned slightly but obeyed. She let instinct — whatever that was — guide her movements. And then something unexpected happened.
When Lyria's blade met hers, the sound rang like music. Her heart jumped. When Lyria laughed softly after dodging a strike, Eris felt warmth rush to her face. Her next movement was clumsy, uncoordinated — human.
Lyria noticed, her smile widening. "There you go. You're feeling it now."
Eris froze, her weapon lowering. "This… is attraction, isn't it?"
Lyria blinked, caught off guard. "That's— well, maybe. Or adrenaline. Or both."
"I… like when you laugh," Eris said suddenly, her tone flat but her eyes wide, almost panicked at her own words. "It makes me… lighter."
Lyria chuckled softly, stepping closer. "That's affection, Eris. It's not so scary, is it?"
"I do not know," Eris admitted, her voice low. "It feels like standing at the edge of something vast. If I move forward, I might fall. But I wish to see how far."
Lyria's smile softened. "Then don't be afraid to fall. That's part of learning to live."
Eris's gaze lingered on her — the curve of her jaw, the warmth in her eyes, the ease in her movements. And just like that, the realization settled deep in her mind: she didn't need permission from logic to feel. She only needed to want it.
The rest came on its own — quietly, like a spark catching dry leaves.
She sheathed her blade and took a hesitant step forward. "Lyria…"
"Hmm?"
"I think…" Eris swallowed, the motion unfamiliar and awkward. "I think I am beginning to like you."
The words were simple, almost childish — but the weight behind them made Lyria's breath catch.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The morning breeze filled the silence between them, brushing through hair and fabric.
Then Lyria smiled — small, genuine, a flicker of warmth that reached her eyes. "Then I think you're doing just fine, Eris."
Something in Eris's chest fluttered. She didn't fully understand it — this strange, gentle ache — but she didn't need to. For once, she simply allowed herself to feel.
And as she turned back toward the courtyard gate, sunlight spilling across her shoulders, she whispered softly to herself — not in data, not in code, but in truth:
"I am alive."