23. Thrice Surrendered #3
The fingernails on her free hand caught at his shoulders, silvery stars still streaking down her cheeks.
And then her voice. Void preserve him. Sweet, lilting, pleasured—melting as he kept a loving, tender rhythm.
He witnessed himself reflected in her eyes and marveled, for what he saw looking back was not the Resh’Agar, or any other use the world had labeled for him. It was just—
Kailorien…My Silari. My Bonded. I love you. Forever. Always.
And so, flesh to flesh, vow to vow, holding one another through the fear, the heat, the mystery of whatever cosmic secret lay inside them both—they joined into one.
Again and again.
Until their bodies could no longer carry them.
Until only breath and love and whispers of devotion remained.
Until the false morning of Krystopolis found them still tangled in sheets and sweat and adoration.
Bonded.
Together.
Ready to fight as one.
The chamber was hushed, save for the faint crackle of the fluxhearth. Its glow pulsed, the phiros stones dimming, nearing depletion. The scent of lavender still lingered in the air, clinging to the wet fabric draped over a nearby chair—proof of tenderness shared and discomfort subdued.
Auryn slept deeply now, nestled in a mound of pillows, blankets, and furs. Her breath, once erratic, now came in soft waves. Steady. Fragile. The worst of the heat had subsided, but the ghost of it still colored her skin; a lingering ember not yet extinguished.
Kailorien moved quietly, barefoot across the crystal floor. He gathered two fresh phiros stones from a carved basin near the hearth. Their glow responded to his touch, flickering in recognition, not yet awake.
He crouched to replace the old ones, turning them with practiced ease.
A whisper of motion behind him drew his attention.
He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Lu’ma’s presence was like smoke—silent, weightless, unobtrusive. She stood just inside the chamber’s arch, a tray of steeped tea in her hands. Her eyes were downcast, head bowed. As always, she avoided looking at him directly.
Once she set down the tray, her hands moved in swift signs, ‘This Nameless asks. Is Her Radiance stable?’
Her fingers hesitated at the end.
Kailorien’s gaze drifted back to the bed, to the way Auryn’s hand remained tucked beneath her cheek.
“I will make her well again,” he promised, voice low.
Lu’ma nodded—just once. Then signed again, slower.
‘Her Radiance’s breath…it flickered like a dying stone. This Nameless feared she would not return. This,' she made a sign Kailorien couldn’t identify, ‘was worse than before.’
“What did you sign just now? What was that?” He tried to imitate the gesture.
Lu’ma signed it again. Her right hand was flat against her chest, hovering just over her heart, then her fingers burst open upward like a sudden bloom of flame.
“I’ve never seen that before.”
Lu’ma nodded.
‘This Nameless and Her Radiance created it. To talk about,’ she gestured towards Auryn’s form and made the sign for sickness. ‘Without the others knowing. Her Radiance did not wish for the Companions to witness it.’
“Sign it again. So I remember.”
She did so.
“If I had to give it a name, I would not call it a fever. This isn’t illness. It’s something else. For now, know that when I tell you she is suffering a Flare, I mean this strange heat.”
Lu’ma bowed.
He stood.
“You saw it,” he murmured. “What I did.”
She hesitated.
Kailorien’s voice softened. “When I breathed for her.”
Lu’ma’s shoulders tensed. Her hands pressed together, fingers lacing then lifting.
‘This Nameless will carry that secret beyond the Void, if needed.’
His chest loosened with the weight of her vow. One not spoken aloud, yet no less binding than any oath forged in blood.
“I never meant for anyone to see,” he admitted. “But you were there. And you are the only one I trust to understand the weight of it.”
Lu’ma’s hands moved again. Slower. Thoughtful.
‘This Nameless asks…is Your Quintessence certain this spell is safe? For Her Radiance?’
Kailorien hesitated. His throat worked around the truth.
“No,” he admitted. “But I’m certain it’s necessary.”
Lu’ma bowed, deeper than before. Nearly kneeling. And then, with silent grace, she turned and vanished into the corridor beyond the chamber door.
He remained still for a long breath before returning to the bedside.
Auryn had stirred in his absence, a faint furrow forming between her brows. He knelt beside her. Her vibrant flush had faded to a dusky pink. Her breathing was steady, but she still looked pale, drawn.
“This Flare…this heat…I will find a way to rid you of it,” he vowed.
He exhaled. Not just breath, but mana. A deliberate release. His soul bending to hers. Light swirled from his mouth in a gossamer blue mist. It hovered, searching, then curled into her—through her lips, her nose, her throat.
Her chest lifted.
A tremor ran through her body. Her expression eased. Her color warmed.
She settled again, her lips parting on a soft sigh.
Kailorien leaned close and pressed a kiss to her brow.
“You’ll burn brighter tomorrow,” he whispered. “You always do.”
Then he curled beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle, drawing her against his chest. But sleep did not take him.
Not that night.
Nor for many nights after.