Morning moved like honey — slow, heavy, unwilling to spill forward. I pretended to read, to sweep the yard, to help Granny sort herbs, but every tick of the clock was only a reminder of how much I wanted to see him again. By midday, I could bear it no longer.
The path to the temple shimmered under the sun, dust swirling around my ankles. Sorren trotted beside me, tongue lolling, tail quick as a drumbeat. My steps quickened the closer we came — until the sound of voices made me stop.
Not just voices — singing.
I crept near the open hall, pressed myself against a carved pillar, and listened.
His voice rose clear and steady, carrying the children's with it. Not heavy like the monks, not distant like the chants I'd heard before. His singing was soft yet radiant — like the light of a lantern pressed into my chest.
"May this day be bright
May our hearts be kind
May joy return like morning sun
And time be gentle as the river's song."
The children repeated after him, their timing unsteady, sometimes giggling — but he guided them patiently. His voice wove through theirs like silk tying loose ends.
I shut my eyes. For a fleeting, terrifying instant, I thought that if I stepped into that hall, the dream would rush back — the warmth of his hand, the pull of his eyes. My body ached with the wish to cross the space between us.
Then his gaze found me.
I froze. The children's voices blurred into nothing. The world collapsed into that single look — calm, unreadable, yet so direct it felt like he had been waiting.
And then—
"Kael."
My name. Spoken low. Certain.
I had whispered it in my dreams, longing for an answer. Hearing it now unraveled me — like the first breath after drowning.
The children twisted around to see who he was calling. Sorren barked and bounded straight towards him, as if he had never belonged to me at all.
Anurak knelt, scratching Sorren's ears. A faint smile touched his lips, but his eyes flicked back to mine — steady.
"I… I didn't mean to disturb you," I managed, heat crawling up my neck.
"You didn't." He rose — tall, composed, but never heavy. "He seems to know you trust me," he added, resting a hand briefly on Sorren's back.
I half-laughed, awkward. "He usually takes ages to like anyone. But with you… it's strange."
Anurak's eyes softened. "Some bonds don't ask for permission. They arrive already made."
The words clung to me — confusing and comforting all at once.
The children tugged at him again, but he gently dismissed them, sending them out into the courtyard. Soon, the hall was quiet. Just us. For the first time… just me and him.
"You sing beautifully," I said, surprised my voice found its way out. "I've never heard temple songs like that."
His lips curved into something close to a smile. "Music is prayer, Kael. Sometimes prayer must be sung to be felt."
The way he said my name again — unbearable. Sweet and sharp.
"Would you… ever teach someone like me?" The words escaped before I could stop them. "I don't know anything about chants or singing. But I—"
I only want to spend time with you.
He tilted his head, studying me. Silence stretched — not uncomfortable, just waiting.
Then he nodded. Slow. Certain.
"If you come with patience… I will teach you."
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't a vow. But to me, it felt like the river opening — like a door sliding just enough for light to spill through.
Sorren pressed against my leg, grounding me. Still, my chest burned with longing — to hear my name again, to ask why he had lived in my dreams long before I ever met him.