"Not every bond is forged in fire. Some form quietly, in the softest parts of us."
They made camp beneath the low arch of a moss-covered outcropping, just before dusk. A narrow stream gurgled a few dozen paces away. Trees leaned in overhead, their branches tangled like the thoughts Kaelen couldn't name.
He unpacked the flint, hands steady out of habit more than calm, and sparked the fire to life. Selene had disappeared to gather water. The moment stretched in quiet.
When she returned, her boots were damp, and strands of hair clung to her cheek. The way she knelt beside the fire, sleeves rolled, eyes focused—it made Kaelen pause.
She looked more real here. Less untouchable. Not a wielder of lost names or strange glyphs.
Just… someone.
"Here," she said, handing him a water pouch. "You're dehydrated."
He took it wordlessly. The water was cold, startling against his tongue.
Selene sat opposite him, cross-legged, arms around her knees. Her gaze stayed on the flames, and for a while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, she broke the silence.
"You've been quieter than usual."
Kaelen shrugged. "You've barely looked at me since this morning."
"That's not true."
He looked up.
Selene's voice was soft. "I notice everything. Especially when I'm trying not to."
That caught him off-guard.
He sat back slightly. "Why would you try not to?"
"Because it's easier that way. Less complicated."
Kaelen exhaled slowly. "It's already complicated."
A breeze passed between them, fluttering the edge of Selene's cloak. The fire cracked. Somewhere in the distance, an owl cried into the coming dark.
"You asked me before," she said quietly, "if I still carry my old name."
He nodded.
"I do," she admitted. "But not just because I was born with it. I carry it because… I'm afraid of what I'll be without it. Of being just a girl with regrets."
Kaelen watched her. The way her voice grew softer. The way she didn't meet his eyes.
"I don't think you're just anything," he said. "You carry too much to be just anything."
She finally looked up. There was something fragile in her expression now—open, uncertain.
"Kaelen…"
He didn't speak. He only shifted closer, slowly, until their knees almost touched.
"You said once you weren't trying to turn back," she murmured. "But what are you moving toward?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then: "I don't know yet. But when I wake up and you're there, I don't feel like I'm running anymore."
Selene's breath caught—just faintly, just once.
She reached out, hesitated, then let her fingers brush against the back of his hand.
Not fully holding. Just enough.
The fire flickered between them, warm and steady. And in the hush of that moment, something bloomed. Unspoken. Unrushed.
A closeness that didn't need a name yet.
Kaelen didn't move. Neither did she.
It wasn't a kiss. It wasn't even an embrace.
But it was something.
Something more than silence.
Something truer than words.
That night, Kaelen slept without dreams.
And Selene, for the first time in years, slept without waking once.