The duel loomed like a stormcloud. Whispers slithered through every corridor of the Dragon Courts, speculation thick with hunger: The mortal will die. The exile's bond will break. The flame will return to its rightful lords.
Aric tried to ignore them, but each whisper sank into his bones.
That night, he found Serenya standing on a balcony overlooking the sea of fire-lit towers. Her silver hair shimmered in the glow, her scales catching starlight. She didn't turn when he approached.
"You're reckless," she said flatly, her voice low and tight. "Challenging Kael like that. Do you even understand what he is?"
Aric leaned against the railing beside her, watching the inferno sky. "I understand enough. He sent assassins. He won't stop until we're ashes."
She turned then, her golden eyes blazing. "And so you walk willingly into his fire? You could run. You should. Leave this cursed place, forget the Courts, forget me—"
"Forget you?" Aric cut her off, the words sharp, almost angry. "After everything we've been through? After you dragged me into this madness, saved my life more times than I can count, stood with me when no one else would? Forget you, Serenya? That's the one thing I can't do."
Her lips parted, but no words came. For once, the fire-wrought princess was silent.
Aric pushed on, his voice rough but steady. "I'm not staying here because I'm reckless. I'm staying because if Kael wants you gone, he has to go through me first. And if that means burning, then I'll burn."
The silence between them grew heavy, crackling like the air before lightning.
Slowly, Serenya stepped closer. Her hand trembled as it brushed his, not quite a touch, not yet. Her voice, when it came, was raw.
"Mortals are fragile. You live short lives. You break easily. I shouldn't…" She faltered, golden eyes softening. "I shouldn't let myself—"
Aric caught her hand, gripping it firmly, grounding her. "Too late."
The firelight wrapped them both, warm, dangerous, alive. Serenya closed the final distance, pressing her forehead to his. Not a kiss—yet—but something heavier, more dangerous than flame itself.
Her whisper burned against his lips. "If you die tomorrow, Aric, I'll never forgive you."