The forest held its breath. Every leaf, every distant howl seemed to pause — as if the world itself knew what had been set into motion. The air was thick with the scent of rain and danger, of love born from ruin.
Lyria stood at the edge of the clearing, her hair clinging damply to her cheeks, her pulse a wild rhythm beneath her skin. Across from her, Kael's eyes burned silver in the dim light, his chest rising and falling in a pace that mirrored hers. They hadn't spoken since the chaos of the night before — since the truth had broken between them like glass.
"You shouldn't have followed me," she whispered, her voice trembling not from fear, but from the unbearable tension stretching between them.
Kael took a step closer, the ground soft beneath his boots. "You think I could stay away after what happened?" His tone was low, rough — the kind that scraped against her resolve and left her trembling. "You think I could pretend you don't exist?"
