Chapter 22 — The Place Only He Knew
He didn't speak when he took her hand.
Lyra followed him through the palace, her fingers curled gently in his, her heart steady. The halls grew quieter the deeper they walked — past the music room, past the garden, past the old tapestry that once whispered memories.
They reached a door carved from obsidian and pearl.
It shimmered faintly, pulsing with warmth.
Lyra looked up at him. "Where are we?"
He didn't answer.
He placed his palm against the door.
It opened.
---
Inside was a chamber unlike any she'd seen.
No throne. No torches. No mirrors.
Just a pool of water — still, silver, glowing softly from within. Above it, the ceiling opened to the sky, revealing stars that blinked slowly, as if watching.
The air was warm. Sacred.
Lyra stepped forward, awed.
"It's beautiful," she whispered.
He nodded. "It's called the Heartwell."
She turned to him. "What is it?"
He walked to the edge of the pool, kneeling. "It's where dragons come when they need to remember who they are."
Lyra knelt beside him. "And who are you?"
He looked at her — really looked — and said:
> "Someone who forgot. Until you."
Her breath caught.
He reached into the water, cupping a handful of light. It shimmered in his palm, then faded.
"I've never brought anyone here," he said. "Not even her."
Lyra's voice was soft. "Why me?"
"Because you don't ask for anything," he said. "You just stay."
She reached out, gently, and placed her hand over his.
The water pulsed.
Their joined hands glowed faintly — not with magic, but with memory. The pool shimmered brighter, and the stars above blinked in rhythm.
Lyra leaned her head against his shoulder.
"I don't want to be a dragon," she said. "I just want to be yours."
He closed his eyes.
And whispered:
> "Then be mine."
---
They stayed there for a long time.
No crown. No curse. No fear.
Just two hearts, glowing softly in the quiet.
And the Heartwell — ancient and sacred — held their promise.
Not with fire.
With love.