The Veiled Forest spat embers as spirit beasts howled under a crimson sky. Trees that once whispered secrets in jade shadows now bled smoke and fire, their leaves curling into ash. The sun—if it still existed—was lost behind the smoke, and the light that remained was stained red, painting the battlefield in hues of rage and ruin.
Nolan Ranan's chest heaved as she cut through a thick tangle of flaming brambles with her sword. Her blade sang with heat, the edge glowing faintly from repeated enchantment. Behind her, the shriek of a spirit beast echoed through the charred underbrush, followed by the unmistakable crunch of splintering bone. She didn't turn. She didn't need to.
Neug Mu was at her back.
They moved together—effortlessly, rhythmically, like a single blade split into two bodies. She ducked, and he leapt over her, cleaving a scaled beast mid-air. She spun and raised her gauntlet just in time to deflect a spectral claw meant for his spine. He responded by shattering the arm of a creature that had crept too close to her flank.
Every movement was an answer. Every parry was a vow.
The forest groaned, trees collapsing in waves as fire consumed centuries in moments. They'd been ambushed—caught between shifting ley lines and territorial spirit beasts drawn to the scent of combat. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was meant to be a scouting mission, not a warfront.
And yet here they stood, blades slick with otherworldly ichor, bodies trembling with exhaustion, lungs coated in soot.
Another wave of beasts surged from the east—serpent-like creatures with burning eyes and molten teeth. Nolan cursed under her breath and raised her sword, but Neug was already there, his warblade a streak of black lightning as it swept through their ranks.
"They're thinning," he called, breath ragged.
"Or regrouping," she snapped back.
He grunted in agreement. "Then we don't give them the chance."
The air shimmered around them, hot enough to warp vision, and the smoke clung like ghosts to their armor. Nolan felt her limbs slowing. Her magic was waning, every channel of spirit energy dulled by fatigue. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, frantic and relentless.
The last of the beasts lunged at her—a panther-shaped creature with antlers wreathed in flame. It moved faster than thought.
And then it stopped, impaled mid-leap.
Neug's blade was buried to the hilt in its chest. The creature let out a final hiss before dissolving into smoke and sparks, crumbling into cinders at their feet.
Silence fell.
Not the silence of peace—but the tense, crackling hush that comes after a scream.
Nolan dropped to her knees.
The scorched ground burned through the fabric of her pants, but she didn't move. Her muscles betrayed her, too spent to protest. Ash clung to her face, her arms, her lips. She tasted copper and soot. Her vision wavered.
Beside her, Neug Mu dropped to one knee and gathered her into his arms without asking. The embrace wasn't gentle—it was desperate, full of shuddering breath and quiet fury. He held her tightly, as if afraid she might slip away between heartbeats.
"Don't scare me like that," he murmured, voice roughened not by smoke, but by something older. Something softer.
Nolan tried to respond, but the only thing that came out was a rasping laugh. It started low in her throat, half delirious, half disbelieving. Then it grew. Her ribs ached with every breath, but she laughed anyway, the sound sharp and hoarse and triumphant.
"I thought we were going to burn," she managed between gasps.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his brow furrowed, yet eyes soft. "As long as we burn together, I don't mind."
Her laughter faltered.
In that moment, beneath the torn sky and amid the smoldering remnants of the Veiled Forest, something inside her fractured. Not from pain—but from relief. From the unbearable tenderness of him, of the way he held her like she was both a weapon and a wish.
"I hate you a little for saying things like that," she whispered, her voice cracking.
He smiled faintly. "I don't say them often."
"You shouldn't."
"Then stop almost dying."
She elbowed him weakly. "That wasn't part of the plan."
He leaned his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled, smoke-slick and shallow. Her eyes closed. His didn't. He watched her, tracing the smudge of ash on her cheek with a trembling thumb.
"This isn't over," she murmured.
"No."
"But we're alive."
"For now."
She opened her eyes and met his. "That's enough, isn't it?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. Then he nodded. "It has to be."
They sat there, the forest groaning around them as trees succumbed to fire and spirit rot. Somewhere to the north, a horn sounded—distant and weary, signaling retreat or victory, they couldn't tell.
Nolan stirred first. Her body screamed in protest as she rose, hand gripping his for balance.
"We need to move," she said. "If the flames reach the leyroot—"
"The whole region goes up," he finished grimly.
They worked quickly, wordlessly, weaving between burning trunks and shattered creatures. Neug paused only once, kneeling by a fallen stag-beast, its form too warped to be natural. He laid two fingers on its charred hide, closed his eyes, and whispered something in a language Nolan didn't recognize.
A prayer, perhaps.
She didn't ask.
When they finally reached the edge of the fire's spread, the air grew clearer. The smoke still clung to them, but the sky beyond was softer—a bruised violet instead of bloodred. They found shelter in the hollow of a dead tree, wide enough for both to collapse inside.
Nolan leaned back, sliding down until her head rested on Neug's shoulder.
"I smell like burned nightmares," she muttered.
"You do," he agreed. "But you're alive. So am I."
"You're bleeding."
"So are you."
They shared a breath. Then two. Then silence.
And then Nolan did something neither of them expected.
She laughed again.
Not from delirium. Not from mockery.
But from joy.
It was soft and slow, like a candle catching flame. Neug turned to her, brows lifted in weary confusion.
"What?"
She gestured weakly to their surroundings. "We just survived a spirit beast ambush, a forest fire, and being crushed by falling ley-trees. And here we are. Hiding in a dead log. Smelling like regret and roast meat."
He blinked.
Then, slowly, he began to laugh too.
It was low and gravelly at first, then louder, richer. His hand found hers in the dark, fingers interlacing without thinking. They laughed until their bodies ached again—not from fear or pain this time, but from the absurdity of it all. From relief.
From the staggering joy of being alive.
When the laughter faded, they stayed close. Her head still on his shoulder, his hand warm in hers. The fire no longer roared so close. The beasts were gone. For now.
"I don't want this to end," she said softly.
Neug looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
"This—" she clarified, lifting their joined hands. "Us. What we're becoming."
He was silent a long time.
Then he whispered, "Then let's not let it."
She turned her head toward him, tired eyes searching his.
"There's a war."
"I know."
"There's duty. Expectations. Politics."
"I know."
She hesitated. "I've buried people before."
"So have I." He reached out, brushing a strand of soot-streaked hair from her brow. "But I've never had a reason not to die before."
And there it was.
The thing they'd danced around since the first fire-forged moment they stood back-to-back in battle.
Not love. Not yet.
But something close. Something burning.
A promise kindled not in vows or poetry, but in blades and ashes and blood-soaked earth.