The world was all silver and hard edges. They broke camp early, following the river deeper into the wilds. The path grew rough, the ground a patchwork of frozen mud and slick roots, the banks rising and falling in unpredictable waves.
By midday, the river had grown fat and fast, fed by meltwater from unseen mountains. The only way across was a narrow line of stones, some flat and sun-bleached, others dark and slimy with moss. Kai eyed the crossing, calculating the risk.
"We could double back," he offered, uncertain.
Lena shook her head. "If anyone's looking for us, they'll expect us to keep to the trails. The Academy is straight north. The crossing is fastest."
He squared his shoulders. "I'll go first. If it holds, you follow."
Lena gave him a look that mixed pride and exasperation. "Or you could let me use magic and just float us across."
Kai snorted. "Where's the fun in that?"
He started across, testing each rock with his boot before shifting his weight. The current was strong, tugging at his ankles with every step, but he moved slow and steady, like his father had taught him.
Halfway over, his luck gave out. A stone shifted under his foot, and he pitched sideways, arms pinwheeling. For a second, time froze—the water below, cold and merciless; the air, sharp with panic.
Then something grabbed him. A force, not hands, but a pressure like wind or a mother's embrace, caught his chest and yanked him upright. He landed on the next stone, knees buckling but safe.
Kai blinked, heart slamming in his ribs. He looked back. Lena stood on the bank, one hand raised, her face drawn with concentration.
She lowered her arm, exhaled, and called out, "You're welcome."
He grinned, sheepish and grateful, then finished the crossing. When Lena reached him, she clapped his shoulder, harder than necessary.
"You're getting reckless," she said, but her eyes were bright.
He shrugged, not trusting himself to say the thing in his chest: that he'd wanted to impress her, that he liked the way she looked when she was worried about him.
They walked in silence for a while, the river at their backs, each lost in thought.
That night, they made camp in a hollow ringed by birch trees. The fire was small, the wood green and smoky, but it kept the chill away. They sat close, legs touching, the silence between them thicker than any spell.
Lena watched the flames, her expression unreadable. Kai studied the way the light traced the lines of her jaw, the way her breath steamed in the cold.
He wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in his throat.
Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out the last piece of honeyed bread Maya had packed for him. He broke it in half, offering her the larger piece.
She took it, fingers brushing his, and for a moment neither of them moved.
"Thank you," she said, voice barely a whisper.
Kai nodded, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks.
They ate in silence, the fire popping and hissing. Every now and then, Lena would glance at him, quick and furtive, like she was checking to see if he was still there.
He caught her once, and she blushed, looking away.
The world outside the fire was vast and wild, but here, in the circle of warmth and light, it felt small—just the two of them, alone against everything.
Kai finished his bread and stretched out, lying on his side to watch the stars through the birch branches.
Lena lay down beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched.
They didn't speak.
They didn't have to.
The quiet between them was enough.
***
The fire burned down to a bed of quiet coals. Above, the birch branches latticed the stars into a thousand small windows. Kai watched his own breath rise in the cold, each exhale a wisp of fog that vanished into the dark.
He lay still, feeling the heat of Lena's body along his side. It was a simple thing—two travelers sharing warmth in the wild—but it felt like the most important thing in the world.
After a while, Lena rolled onto her back, her hair a bright spill on the moss. She let out a long, shivery sigh.
"You ever think about what comes after?" she asked, eyes fixed on the sky.
"After what?" Kai whispered.
"After the Academy. After you stop running and can settle down." Her voice was soft, almost afraid. "What if we don't make it?"
He thought about the world beyond this clearing—about the Knights, the Church, the things in the woods that hunted for magic or the taste of human fear. He didn't want to think about it, but he owed her the truth.
"We'll make it," he said, wishing the certainty in his voice were real. "But if we don't… at least we tried."
She turned to look at him. Her face was open, unguarded in a way he'd never seen before.
"You're such a liar," Lena said, and she smiled, just a little.
He laughed, the sound barely more than a puff of air.
The quiet stretched between them. Kai wanted to reach for her, to say something that would make her less alone, but he didn't know how.
Lena saved him the trouble.
She slid her hand into his, fingers cold but certain. Her grip was strong, grounding. He squeezed back, heart racing.
They lay that way for a long time, hands entwined, the fire painting gold on their cheeks.
When the cold grew too sharp, Lena pulled the blanket up, tucking it around both of them. She scooted closer, her head resting on his shoulder.
Kai's pulse thundered. He willed himself to stay still, not to ruin the moment.
But then Lena whispered, "Is this okay?"
He turned, their faces inches apart. He could see the flecks of silver in her eyes, the way her lips trembled—not with fear, but something braver.
Kai nodded, unable to speak.
Lena kissed him. It wasn't dramatic or desperate, just a soft press of lips, careful and new. She pulled back, searching his face for regret. Finding none, she kissed him again.
This time, Kai kissed back.
The world fell away. The only things that mattered were the warmth of her, the taste of her breath, the way her hand tightened in his.
When they finally parted, both were breathless and a little dazed.
Lena laughed, a wild, happy sound.
He grinned, feeling stupid and invincible.
They curled together beneath the blanket, the last embers of the fire their only witness. Kai closed his eyes, the memory of the kiss alive on his lips.
He slept, and in his dream, Lena was there beside him, her laughter echoing into the stars.
***
Kai woke to find Lena already up, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the camp. Her back was to him, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tight around herself.
The fire had burned out in the night, leaving only a scatter of cold ash. The world felt brittle and thin, the morning air heavy with something he couldn't name.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Hey," he called, voice still thick with sleep.
Lena didn't turn. She was staring out at the river, jaw clenched, as if bracing for a storm.
Kai stood, the memory of the kiss still alive on his lips. He wanted to joke, to break the tension, but every word he tried felt wrong.
He crossed to her, settling down a careful distance away. The silence gnawed at him.
"Lena?" he tried.
She flinched at his voice, just a little, then shook her head. "We should get moving," she said. Her tone was flat, the spark from last night gone.
He watched her, searching for the girl who had laughed and kissed him under the stars. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"
"No," she said, too fast. "It's not you."
He waited, but she didn't say more.
They broke camp in silence. Kai packed their things, Lena rolling the blanket with precise, angry motions. When he tried to catch her eye, she turned away.
They followed the river north, the hush between them growing colder with every step. Once, when the path narrowed, Lena brushed past him, careful not to touch. Kai felt the sting of it, sharper than any wound.
It wasn't until midday, when they stopped to drink at a spring, that Lena finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice brittle as frost-covered twigs.
Kai sat beside her, not daring to move closer. "You don't have to be sorry."
"I do," Lena insisted, fingers digging into the earth. "I'm bait for a darkness you can't comprehend."
He frowned, heart pounding. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."
She laughed, the sound like glass breaking. "You still don't see."
"Then help me understand," he pleaded. "I'm listening."
Lena turned to him, her eyes suddenly flaring with silver clarity—too bright, too ancient. For a heartbeat, he thought she might confess everything.
Instead, she whispered, "I'm a shadow that will consume every normal thing you've ever wanted. What hunts me doesn't just kill—it corrupts. It twists. It unmakes."
He reached for her hand, but she recoiled as if his touch might burn her.
"Lena—"
"Stop." Her voice dropped to something barely human. "Every second you spend with me marks you for something worse than death."
The words hung between them like smoke from a poisoned fire.
They ate lunch in silence, Lena picking at her food. When they walked, she kept a careful step ahead, never letting him catch up.
By evening, the ache in Kai's chest was worse than hunger or cold. They found a place to camp in a stand of fir, the trees so thick they blotted out the sky.
Lena set up the wards without asking for help. Kai watched, desperate to say something that would bring her back to him.
When darkness fell, they lay on opposite sides of the fire, the distance between them a chasm.
Kai closed his eyes, trying to remember the sound of Lena's laughter. But all he heard was the river, and the wind in the trees, and the slow, sad beat of his own heart.