Kiss.
Ashtoria had heard that word a few times before. She vaguely recalled the whispers of servants during her childhood, conversations she never understood. Then, like so many other things, the word slipped away from her mind. No one had ever explained such things to her.
Her childhood was nothing but chains, whips, and dark confinement. Even after gaining freedom, her life became nothing more than endless battles for revenge. There had never been any room for learning about human connections, tenderness, or the things most people took for granted.
So when Riven explained it so simply—"you just need to let your lips touch mine"—she didn't see anything special about it. No reason to hesitate. No reason to refuse. Without a second thought, she leaned in and did exactly as he said.
The touch was brief. She hardly felt anything except the warmth of his lips against hers.
Nothing remarkable.
But when she opened her eyes, what startled her wasn't the kiss, it was Riven's expression. For the first time in her life, Ashtoria felt the urge to laugh. His face was the funniest thing she had ever seen.
Afterward, Riven tried to cover his nervousness with words. He praised her, whispered sweet things that made Ashtoria's cheeks grow warm, though she quickly turned away to hide it. In the end, the two of them lay down with their backs facing each other, letting the campfire burn low between them. Riven eventually drifted into sleep, but Ashtoria stayed awake.
She turned, silently watching him. Riven's face looked calm in sleep, but that calmness stirred unease inside her. There was something there she couldn't quite grasp, something that made her chest feel strange.
Her eyes fell on the thick blanket Riven had given her earlier. She reached for it, hugging it tightly. A strange warmth radiated from that simple thing, and for some reason, her chest grew heavier.
Then her body moved on its own. She stood abruptly, clutching the blanket against her chest, and looked at Riven one more time.
"I have to go."
Without a sound, she stepped away. Her movements were light, quick, almost without trace. Within seconds, her figure vanished into the darkness of the night, leaving behind only the faint scent of roses lingering in the air.
.
.
.
Riven woke with his breath uneven. Cold sweat slid down his temple, even though the night air bit against his skin. His chest rose and fell quickly, still caught in the grip of the dream that had just struck him. He rubbed his face roughly, trying to wipe it away, but the unease clung stubbornly.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized something was wrong. Something… was missing.
Ashtoria.
He sat up, his body stiff from sleeping on the cold ground. His gaze swept the area: grass wet with dew, silent tree trunks rising tall, and the faint moonlight filtering through the canopy. But there was no trace of dark red hair, no ruby eyes, no beautiful woman.
"Hm?" Riven growled under his breath, forcing down the turmoil rising inside him.
He took a few steps, checking the grass, searching for footprints, any trace at all. But nothing. As if she had simply vanished.
At last he returned to the dying fire. Inside, he muttered, maybe she just went off for a while… to relieve herself or something.
He glanced at his sister.
Melly was still curled in her thin blanket, her small body like a cocoon. Her breathing was steady, her face peaceful. Riven let out a small snort, and before he realized it, a foolish smile tugged at his lips. The memory of Ashtoria's lips, cold yet soft, surfaced again. It had lasted only a heartbeat, but it was enough to make his heart pound wildly.
They said a man becomes an idiot when he falls in love… but of course, Riven had no idea, let alone the awareness to recognize it.
An hour passed.
Still no sign of Ashtoria. Riven grew restless.
He stood, paced back and forth, then sat again. Questions filled his head: Did she run into a beast? Is she hurt? But he quickly dismissed them. He remembered her strength, the way she faced danger as if it meant nothing. No ordinary beast in this forest could touch her.
And yet, the unease refused to leave.
Three more hours passed. The eastern sky shifted from black to deep blue. The cold grew sharper. And Ashtoria… had still not returned.
Riven sat with a tense face, staring blankly at the ashes of the fire. In his heart, another possibility began to take shape. Did she leave us?
The thought struck his chest like a blow.
From the beginning, they had been nothing but strangers who happened to meet. Of course they would part ways. Maybe she had already set her own course. But after everything at the lake, after… that kiss…
His chest tightened, as if a stone had been dropped inside. His breath quickened, not from exhaustion but from something else entirely: disappointment, anger, confusion, and… sorrow.
He shut his eyes, his fingers curling into fists against his knees.
If you wanted to leave, at least… at least say goodbye. Don't just vanish.
Riven lowered his head, feeling like the biggest fool in the world. Not because someone had played with him, but because he had played himself.
Still, he kept waiting, even as part of him had already given up. Until finally, as the sun began to rise, exhaustion bent his body. His eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted back into sleep beside his sister.
When the morning light touched his face, Riven slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, still half-dreaming. But the sight before him made his breath catch.
Right next to him, sitting calmly as though she had never left, was Ashtoria. Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight, her sharp eyes fixed on him, watching silently.
Riven froze. He rubbed his eyes quickly, making sure he wasn't still dreaming.
"No way…" he whispered. His gaze locked onto hers, desperate for certainty. Am I still dreaming now?
But Ashtoria's stare was too real, too piercing to belong to any dream.