First-Person — Nyra
The night drags me under like a tide.
At first, it's nothing — just the soft rhythm of the fire dying, the slow breath of the man sleeping a few paces away. Then… warmth.
It coils through my chest, low and molten, spreading like something alive.
The mark beneath my ribs begins to hum.
I dream of light — red and gold, twisting like smoke. It pulls me forward, through darkness that smells of rain and steel. When the mist parts, I see him.
Kael.
Standing in the same ruin where we fought the Shadowed Ones, though the sky above burns crimson instead of black. His cloak is gone. The mark at his collarbone glows, mirroring mine.
"You shouldn't be here," he says, voice rough but quieter than I've ever heard it.
"I could say the same."
He takes a step closer. The air between us thickens, vibrating with energy I can feel through my bones.
Our marks pulse in unison — one heartbeat, one rhythm.
"What is this?" I whisper.
His gaze flickers to my chest, where the faint red glow seeps through the fabric of my shirt. "Resonance," he murmurs. "When two marked souls align… they call to each other."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
He closes the distance before I can breathe another word. His hand lifts — slow, trembling — and hovers just above where my mark burns brightest. The heat that radiates from him isn't human. It seeps into my skin, my pulse, my thoughts.
"Kael…"
He doesn't touch me. Not yet. But the air itself feels like a caress, electric and heavy, every nerve alive.
"Tell me to stop," he says, voice low enough to break something inside me.
"I can't."
He exhales — sharp, desperate — and his hand finally meets my skin. The contact sends a shock of light spiraling through both of us. My mark flares, answering his.
Pain and pleasure twist together until I can't tell them apart.
Images flash behind my eyes — blood, fire, hands tangled, lips barely touching, breath shared like a secret. None of it real. All of it too real.
Then — nothing. The dream fractures.
I wake with a gasp, hand pressed to my chest. The mark is still glowing faintly beneath the fabric, its warmth fading.
Across the room, Kael stirs from sleep. His eyes meet mine immediately — as if he already knows.
He doesn't ask what happened. He doesn't have to.
Because when he shifts, the faint shimmer of red under his collarbone mirrors mine.
And for the first time, I know the dream wasn't just mine.