The camp prepared for the chilly evening with the usual chaos:
Temir trying to hammer tent pegs into a rock,
Bair arguing with a goat,
Kanykei sighing like a queen trapped with fools,
and Erlan sharpening his dagger with the seriousness of a man preparing to fight the horizon.
Ayisulu, however, couldn't focus on any of them.
Her power felt different since the spirit appeared — heavier, more awake.
Every time the wind changed direction, a shiver ran through her, as if someone invisible tugged on her thoughts.
She wandered toward the edge of camp, where thick reeds grew around a quiet pond. The water mirrored the orange-pink sky, broken only by ripples from a fish or maybe something less fish-like.
"Ayisulu!"
Erlan jogged up to her, breathless even though he wasn't far.
"I thought you left," he said.
"I just needed quiet."
Erlan studied her face. "You look pale."
"I'm thinking. That's all."
"You're terrible at lying," he said gently.
Ayisulu sighed. "The spirit's words. About my shadow. My grandmother. It's all too much."
She expected sympathy. Erlan, however, smiled crookedly.
"You've always had too much inside you. Even when you were little. The difference is — now other people notice."
Ayisulu bumped his shoulder lightly. "That's not comforting."
"Then let me try again." He straightened, put a hand to his chest, and announced:
"You are Ayisulu! Terror of sandstorms! Defeater of arrows! Summoner of accidental tornadoes! Legend of—"
She shoved him. "Stop."
He laughed, warm and familiar.
But before she could reply, a strange tremor passed through the reeds.
Ayisulu stiffened.
Erlan noticed. "Another spirit?"
"No…" Ayisulu whispered. "Something calling me."
The water shimmered unnaturally — forming a faint shape. A human-like outline, but wavering, unfinished. Ayisulu took one step forward—
"Ayisulu, don't," Erlan warned, grabbing her wrist.
His touch grounded her — enough that the shimmering stopped. The water flattened.
Erlan's eyes darkened. "Your power is attracting more than spirits."
Ayisulu swallowed. "I know."
Erlan gently squeezed her hand before letting go. "Stay alert tonight."
He walked away, glancing back at her twice — each time with the quiet fear of someone who already imagined losing her once.
---
Dinner was loud, chaotic, and involved Temir spilling soup onto Kereg, who considered strangling him.
Arslan wasn't there.
Ayisulu felt his absence like a weight.
She found him outside camp, sitting against a boulder, mending a broken strap on his saddle. The fading light painted him in gold and shadow.
"You're avoiding everyone," she said.
He didn't look up. "Only the ones who are loud."
"So everyone except me?" she teased.
Arslan paused, needle in hand. "You are not… overwhelming."
Coming from him, that was practically a confession.
Ayisulu sat beside him. Their shoulders brushed. A small spark ran up her spine.
"I saw something by the pond," she said.
His head snapped toward her instantly. "What?"
She told him — the trembling reeds, the water-shape, the pull.
Arslan's jaw tightened. "It's getting stronger."
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"You say that too often for it to be true," he replied.
Ayisulu exhaled. "Arslan… I don't know how to control any of this."
"No one controls the steppe," he murmured. "They just learn to ride with it."
Ayisulu blinked. "That was poetic."
"I regret saying it already."
She laughed — and he softened.
The wind shifted, brushing their hair. A cold gust made Ayisulu shiver. Without a word, Arslan unpinned the heavy cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her — carefully, slowly, almost reverently.
"Arslan…"
"You're cold."
"That's not why my heart is—"
But she didn't finish.
Because he reached up and touched her cheek — gently, like the world might break if he pressed harder. His fingers were rough from sword practice, warm from the fire, and trembling with restraint.
Ayisulu's breath caught.
She leaned into his palm before she understood she had moved.
Arslan inhaled quickly, sharply.
Their faces were close enough now that she could feel the heat of his breath. His thumb brushed her cheekbone, slow, tentative, intimate.
"Ayisulu," he whispered, voice low and unsteady, "if you step back, I'll stop."
She didn't step back.
Arslan's forehead touched hers — just barely.
The world hushed.
The wind softened, as if holding its breath with them.
Her power stirred — not wildly this time, but warm, steady, like someone had finally placed a hand over her heartbeat and said, Be still.
She closed her eyes, leaning closer, letting her fingers curl into the fabric of his tunic. His breath trembled against her lips — not a kiss, not yet, but close enough that she felt it…
Then—
A torch dropped nearby with a loud clunk.
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Temir yelled from behind a tent.
"IT WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT," Kanykei yelled back.
Arslan froze. Ayisulu froze. And the moment shattered like thin ice.
Ayisulu covered her face.
Arslan stared at the sky as if begging the heavens for patience.
Temir screamed again,
"ARE YOU TWO BEING ROMANTIC WITHOUT ME BEING PRESENT TO WITNESS IT?!"
Kereg muttered something extremely unholy.
Ayisulu stood, still wrapped in Arslan's cloak, cheeks burning.
Arslan rose too, gently touching her elbow.
"We'll finish this," he said quietly.
Her heart jumped. "Finish what?"
He looked her in the eyes — not shy, not hesitant, but certain.
"What we started."
Ayisulu's breath vanished.
And for the first time, she wished the spirits, the Falcon, the world — all of it — would leave them alone for one night.