Chapter 4 Finn
Finn
I’m fucking this up.
My pack won’t close. The bedroll won’t roll. Everything I touch either tangles or falls or decides gravity is a suggestion I should’ve ignored.
Chaos magic pops at my fingertips like static charge looking for somewhere to ground. I shove it down. It sparks anyway.
I drop my canteen for the third time and swear under my breath.
“Real smooth, Veylan,” I mutter. “Very competent. Very together.”
Across the clearing, Kaia seems to move effortlessly, packing her gear like she’s done this a thousand times. Mouse supervises from her shoulder. Bob hovers nearby, edges sharp with disapproval that probably has nothing to do with packing technique.
I try not to look at her.
I fail.
Again.
My chest does that thing—the tight, wrong, aching thing that’s been happening since the lake. Since Malrik’s bond locked into place and I felt every second of it like I was drowning in someone else’s happiness.
I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be this close. Shouldn’t want things I have no right to want.
Distance is kindness, and it’s fucking smart.
So why does it feel like punishment?
Because I am not a smart man. Okay, I am, just not when it comes to her.
I grab my pack straps and yank too hard. Something tears. Of course it does.
“You’re packing that like you’re trying to lose it.”
I don’t jump. Barely. Malrik’s voice comes from directly behind me—calm, measured, the kind of steady that makes my chaos magic flicker nervously.
“I’m fine,” I say without turning around.
“Try again.”
I exhale through my teeth. “I said I’m fine.”
“Your magic’s loud again.”
“Yeah, well.” I gesture vaguely at the air around me where sparks dance like angry fireflies. “It does that.”
Malrik moves into my peripheral vision, silver eyes tracking my hands as I fumble with a buckle that suddenly has too many moving parts.
“Finn.”
Just my name. That’s all. But the way he says it—quiet, certain, like he sees straight through the armor I’ve been wearing since I learned to talk—does something to me.
I drop the buckle. Stare at my hands. They’re shaking.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. Raw and honest. Dangerous.
Malrik steps closer. Silent. Solid. Like he’s drawn to me as much as I am him.
Then his hand settles on my wrist, warm and steady.
My chaos magic flickers once, then quiets.
“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel,” Malrik says. “That’s not negotiable.”
I laugh. It comes out broken. “Pretty sure it is.”
“It’s not.”
I finally look up at him. He’s close enough I can see the way shadows cling to his edges, the silver of his eyes reflecting firelight. Close enough to notice he’s not looking at me like I’m a problem to solve.
He’s looking at me like I matter.
My breath stumbles.
“Mal—”
“Whatever you need, Finn.” His voice is low, certain. “I’m here too.”
The words hit harder than they should.
I don’t decide to lean in. My body just does it—gravity pulling me forward like I’ve been fighting this current for too long and finally stopped resisting.
Malrik meets me halfway.
The kiss is soft at first. Tentative. Like he’s giving me room to pull back if I need to.
I don’t pull back.
His hand comes up to cup my jaw—warm, steady, grounding—and I feel my chaos magic flicker once before settling into something I haven’t felt in days. Weeks, maybe.
Quiet.
Not gone. Just… calm.
He tastes like smoke and certainty, and when he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss, I make a sound I don’t mean to make—something between relief and desperation.
His other hand finds my hip, anchoring me like he knows I’m about to float away if he doesn’t hold on.
And I let him.
I let myself sink into this—into the warmth of his mouth, the steadiness of his hands, the way his shadows curl around us like they’re giving us privacy even though we’re in the middle of camp.
My hands find his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm, and I focus on that—the rhythm of it, the proof that he’s here, that this is real, that I’m not imagining the way he’s holding me like I matter.
When he pulls back—just an inch, just enough to breathe—his thumb brushes along my cheekbone, and I realize I’m trembling.
Not from fear.
From relief.
“Finn,” he murmurs. The way he says it—low, careful, like it matters—makes my chest crack open.
I’m staring at him like I’ve forgotten how words work. Like my brain’s been rewired and all I know is the warmth of his hand on my face and the way my magic finally stopped screaming.
“I shouldn’t—” I start.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But Kaia—”
“Isn’t carrying you alone.” His hand is still on my jaw, thumb still tracing small circles that make my thoughts scatter. “Neither am I.”
I shake my head. “She doesn’t—”
“She does.” Malrik’s voice is certain. Absolute. “Remember the first time? In my room? When you kissed me and she watched?”
Heat floods my face. My chaos magic sparks once.
“I saw her, Finn. Her pupils blown wide. The way her breath caught. She wasn’t tolerating it.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone again. “She wanted it. Wants it. Wants us.”
The words settle somewhere deep. Somewhere I’ve been too afraid to let myself believe.
“You’re sure?” My voice comes out rough.
“I’m sure.”
I exhale slowly. The tension in my chest doesn’t disappear, but it… shifts. Becomes something I can breathe around.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
His mouth curves—just barely. Almost a smile. “Good.”
“Come on,” he says quietly. “We move.”
He bends down, picks up the canteen I dropped earlier, and hands it to me.
I take it. Our fingers brush. My magic doesn’t spiral.
“Everyone ready?” Kaia’s voice cuts through the clearing.
I look toward her automatically. She’s standing near the fire, shadows clustering at her feet, determination etched into every line of her body.
My chest aches. But differently now. Less like drowning. More like longing I can actually name.
Malrik stands beside me, close enough our shoulders almost touch.
“Ready,” he calls back.
I nod. Force my voice to work. “Yeah. Ready.”
We walk out together.
My chaos magic stays quiet.
For the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe.