Elira was washing blood from her hands when it happened.
Not the council's blood — Kael's.
Her fingers trembled as silver light flickered briefly beneath her skin, sealing the shallow cuts left by the suppression wards. She breathed slowly, deliberately, just as she had been taught.
Control first.
Emotion second.
She almost didn't hear him.
Almost.
"Show me again."
Kael stood in the doorway.
Not angry.
Not shouting.
Just… still.
"How long?" he asked quietly.
Elira's chest tightened. "I can explain."
"You will," he said. "But not with words."
The air thickened.
The serpent stirred — alert, curious.
Kael stepped forward, close enough that she could see exhaustion carved deep into his face.
"You stopped me," he continued. "Last night. Not with strength — with precision."
Elira swallowed. "I didn't have a choice."
"You chose," he corrected. "You always do."
She met his gaze.
"I'm training," she said softly. "With them."
The word hit harder than a blade.
Kael's jaw clenched.
"The gods."
She nodded once.
The silence that followed was worse than shouting.
"They came back," he said finally. "In your dreams."
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"I was afraid," she admitted. "Not of them."
"Of me?"
Her voice broke. "Of what it would do to you."
Shadow rippled at his feet — not raging, not out of control.
Wounded.
"What did they show you?" he asked.
Elira hesitated.
"Answer me."
She closed her eyes.
And remembered.
---
🌠 The First Memory
She was standing on the edge of a star.
Not metaphorical. Literal.
Heat licked at skin forged for light, not flesh. Around her floated others like her — radiant, distant, untouched by want.
Below her: a battlefield.
Kael.
Younger. Blood-soaked. On his knees, screaming as the serpent tore through him for the first time.
She felt it then — the pull.
A forbidden tether snapping into place.
> Do not interfere, the Firmament commanded.
He is a necessary corruption.
She stepped forward anyway.
Light poured from her — reckless, raw, loving.
The serpent screamed.
The heavens burned.
She fell.
---
Elira opened her eyes to Kael staring at her as if the world had shifted off its axis.
"You fell… for me," he said slowly.
"Yes."
"You broke the laws of heaven."
"Yes."
"You damned yourself."
She nodded, tears tracking down her cheeks. "And I would do it again."
The serpent stirred — pleased, hungry.
Kael stepped back like the knowledge had cut him.
"You should never have been given a choice," he said hoarsely. "Look at what it cost you."
"It cost me nothing," she snapped, emotion breaking through her control. "It gave me you."
"No," he growled. "It chained you to a monster."
She crossed the distance between them, gripping his face, forcing him to meet her gaze.
"You don't get to decide what breaks me," she whispered fiercely. "I chose you before I knew your name. Before I knew mine."
His breath shuddered.
"Say it," she demanded softly. "Say you don't feel it too."
His control cracked.
Kael surged forward, pressing his forehead to hers — breathing hard, shaking.
"I feel you everywhere," he admitted. "And that terrifies me."
"Good," she whispered. "It terrifies me too."
They stood like that — not touching, not apart — caught between past sin and future ruin.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Not a storm.
A warning.
The gods were no longer patient.