The castle grew quiet as night fell. One by one, the others scattered, grumbling, muttering, finding their own corners to rest in. Doors shut. Footsteps faded. Voices dimmed. Until there was nothing left but silence, a sharp silence. Silence and them.
Mae sat curled at the edge of the long, low bench by the window, knees pulled to her chest. The fracture-twisted sky stretched beyond the cracked glass, endless spirals of stars stitched between ribbons of black and violet clouds.
She hadn't meant to stay here. Not she had a choice in staying. When the others started filing out her feet wouldn't move. Her chest wouldn't loosen and her breath was still. And neither did his. Ashar. Still seated across the room. Still like a statue, back straight, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely threaded together. His hair spilled forward over his shoulder, catching slivers of dim starlight. Silent. Watching. Breathing. Present.
Why is he still here? Her gaze flicked to him, hesitant. But the moment her eyes touched his, she realized. He was already watching her. Not glaring. Not cold. Not assessing like the others sometimes did. Just there. Seeing her. As if he had been this whole time. The tension snapped first, not with words. But with movement. Ashar stood. Smooth. Effortless. The shift of his long frame pulled Mae's breath right out of her lungs. He crossed the distance between them like the air wasn't even real.
Her fingers curled tighter around her knees, bracing for what, exactly? She didn't know. But when he stopped, he didn't loom. He didn't tower like before. She watched him for a moment, admiring the stone-like person before her. Just a moment too soon her view was moving. He sat. Right beside her. Close enough that his knee brushed hers, sending an unknown feeling through her body. His presence heavy but not suffocating. Just weighted. Grounding.
For a long time neither of them spoke. Not until Ashar, quiet, low, like thunder buried beneath earth, broke the silence. "I've spent a long time convincing myself I didn't need to understand everything." His voice rolled through her bones. Not harsh. Not sharp. Just truth. "The fracture the extinction what happened to my people." A long, slow breath. "Some answers weren't meant for me." Mae swallowed, blinking fast. Her throat felt tight, too tight.
"But then you," His head tilted just slightly, hair sliding forward, shadowing his eyes but not hiding them. "you appeared. And suddenly," his fingers twitched, curling into his palm, "the answers I spent centuries avoiding, wouldn't leave me alone. When I saw you, something in me ached for you, I didn't know then, I needed you, felt I had to claim you as mine then," he paused looking at his hand, already healing now. Her breath hitched. "Ashar..." before she could even form a sentence she realized, she did not know what to say.
He shook his head once. "I knew something the moment I caught that dagger." His eyes pinned hers. "It cut me. Nothing here can. Not anymore." His hand lifted then, slow, controlled. His fingertips brushed his palm, tracing the faint scar that wasn't there days ago but now lingered, small. But real. Proof. "And you, watching me. You followed every phase, every step. You shouldn't have been able to." His jaw tensed.
"I told myself it was the council's magic. A trick. A mistake. Anything but something that could hint at the truth." His voice dropped, tighter now. "But it wasn't." Mae's lips parted, trembling. Her hands unclenched, fingertips brushing the fabric of her knees. "I, I didn't, I don't know what's wrong with me." Her voice broke at the edges. "I don't know why." Silence stretched. His breath was steady, but something about i felt, heavier now. And then, softly, so softly it barely counted as sound, he whispered,
"Nothing is wrong with you."
Her throat locked. Her chest burned. "Mae." His voice wrapped around her name like it was meant for no one else. "Nothing is wrong with you." A pause. One heartbeat. Two. "But everything is different now." He didn't move. Didn't reach for her. But his presence closed the gap more than touch ever could. Almost as if their souls were touching, reaching for eachother. "And I don't know if I'm terrified of that," His eyes softened, lashes dipping low, "or if it's the first time in centuries I've felt anything worth fearing."
Her breath caught. Her fingers twitched. Her chest squeezed so tight it almost hurt.
Neither moved. Neither dared. Neither of them wanted too. The sky outside fractured and swirled, but inside this room, inside this silence. Nothing broke. And maybe, for the first time, nothing had to. The silence didn't crack. It didn't break. It just, shifted. Soft. Heavy. Safe. For the first time, it wasn't the kind of silence that suffocated. It wasn't made of fear or uncertainty or running from things they couldn't control.
It was, existing. Just the two of them. Side by side. Not as captor and captive. Not as anomaly and warlord. Not as mystery and answer. Just Mae. And Ashar. Her breathing slowed. His did, too. No one reached for the other. No one filled the space. They didn't need to. It was enough. Or at least it had been. Mae shifted, just slightly. Her foot tucked under her knee. Her hands relaxed over her lap. Her gaze slid sideways, tracing the lines of his jaw, the way the fractured starlight touched the sharp planes of his face.
Her mouth opened, half a breath, half a thought she hadn't even finished forming,
"Ash-" She turned toward him. And before the second syllable could leave her lips,
His hands caught her. Fast. Firm. A sudden, grounding grip, one hand curling against the side of her jaw, fingers threading back into her hair, the other anchoring at her hip. There was no hesitation. No warning. No second guess. Just instinct. Just him. Pulling her in, closing that last, fragile inch. And then, his mouth crashed against hers.
Mae gasped. Or maybe tried to. But the sound never made it. It was swallowed by the way his lips met hers, fierce, rough at first, like restraint snapped and there was no point pretending anymore. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't planned. It wasn't some careful, romantic thing. It just was. A desperate meeting of two forces that had spent every moment pushing, pulling, resisting, and finally, finally stopped pretending not to need it. Her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, clutching like if she let go the floor would vanish.
His breath trembled against her lips, and still, he didn't stop. His hand slid from her jaw to cup the back of her neck, holding her there like the idea of space between them was unbearable. The taste of him, warm, sharp like electricity, something foreign but grounding, rushed through her, deeper than any air she could breathe. And then, as sudden as it started, Ashar eased. The rough edge softened, lips gentler, lingering, like memorizing the shape of her mouth was suddenly the most important thing in the universe.
His hand stayed, cradling her neck, thumb brushing the corner of her jaw. Their foreheads hovered close, touching, barely. His breath mixed with hers, uneven, raw, real. Neither spoke. Neither needed to. The kiss had answered what words couldn't.
Not fate. Not prophecy. Not some cosmic anomaly. Just them. Existing. Together.
And for now, that was enough.