FIVE #3
“We tried,” he says, voice low. “When she started forgetting. Seeing things that weren’t there. We tried everything.”
I don’t breathe.
“Scholars. Healers. Mages.” He shakes his head. “No one could help her. No one could stop it.”
The torches flicker, casting shadows across his grief-stricken face.
“We were helpless. Just watching the essence of her life force fade. More and more each day.”
The word sinks into me.
Helpless.
I’ve never thought of him that way. Not once.
But he was.
I look at the man before me, who carries the weight of the realm on his shoulders. Who has fought for so long, so hard, and still believes he isn’t enough.
The sadness in the bond presses heavier now. Being back here, in this place, the memories must be closing in from all sides.
I release his hand.
For a moment, Thane looks at the space where our fingers had been intertwined. Then his gaze lifts, searching mine. Questioning.
Before he can speak, I step closer toward him.
My bare feet move softly against the cool stone, the space between us vanishing in one step. I rise onto my toes, my hands coming up to cup his face. My thumb trails across his stubbled cheek, quiet and sure.
If I could say everything with this one touch, I would.
That I love him.
That I understand loss.
That he doesn’t have to carry this alone.
If this touch could take it all away—the pain, the weight, the years of loneliness—I would give it without hesitation.
But I can’t.
So I just hold him, letting my touch speak where words fail.
I look into his eyes, heavy with sadness.
He has carried it alone for so long. But no more.
I pull him down to me.
Thane responds instantly, gathering me against him. Heat builds where we touch, strength and desperation coil beneath his grip. Like he’s afraid to lose me the way he lost them.
At first, the kiss is soft. A quiet release.
His hand slides up my back, fingers gliding over silk as the fabric shifts beneath his touch. He braces the nape of my neck, tilts his head—and the kiss deepens.
Heat pools deep in my core as I part my lips further, angling my head to take him in. I give everything I am, my heart open and unguarded.
The world narrows to him.
And then, the air stirs.
Subtle at first. A shift against my skin. Then stronger, moving with us, around us.
Responding.
The Air Element answers me.
It rises through me, warm and alive, threading through the space between us, lifting something inside me.
The weight.
The grief.
For a moment, it loosens.
The Air Element strengthens, a whisper of my heart laid bare, wrapping around him like unseen hands.
I feel it—like we’re both being lifted, weightless, as if the kiss is untethering us from the earth itself.
The sky stretches above us, vast and endless. Stars burn quietly overhead as the air moves through me, through us, as if it has always been waiting.
As if it has always belonged to me.
To us.
The bond pulses between us, a glowing ember nestled in the hearth.
The urgency of the kiss fades into something softer. I feel myself settling—drifting back down from the stars, my feet aware of the cool stone of the balcony once more.
The air still lingers around us, but quieter now.
It wasn’t flight. Not really.
But it feels like it could have been.
The sadness is still there, but no longer crushes me.
Thane exhales as he pulls back, his arms loosening but not leaving me. He rests his forehead against mine. I close my eyes, my breath growing even, as I press a hand over his heart.
After a few moments, Thane pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching.
“What was that?” he murmurs. “That feeling—the air around us, the warmth . . . ”
His gaze holds mine, intense, like he’s seeing me for the first time.
“That was you, wasn’t it?” Thane stares at me, something like wonder flickering in his eyes.
I nod.
“I felt that,” he says, almost disbelieving. “In the bond. In my chest. Everywhere.”
A soft laugh slips from me. “That was the point.”
He pulls me close, his hold tightening—like he can’t quite trust himself to let go. I fit beneath his chin, my cheek against his solid chest. His hand slides to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, holding me there.
His breath brushes my temple, uneven.
“How did you get here?” he asks, voice low, rough with emotion.
He exhales, his grip tightening.
Then, softer—almost a whisper against my skin: “What did I do to deserve you?”
I tighten my arms around him in answer.
Beneath my palms, his back shifts—muscle and warmth and something that feels like home—as he pulls me closer in return.
We stay like this, wrapped in each other, breathing in the cool night air.
Beyond the balcony, Volcaris hums quietly. Far below, muffled voices drift from the last stragglers leaving taverns, followed by the occasional clang of a door shutting, and footsteps fading into the labyrinth of stone streets.
A breeze stirs through the keep, rustling banners along the walls. The scent of embers and aged wood lingers, a reminder of the forge fires that smolder even in sleep.
But up here, there is only us.