The fire crackled low, casting flickering shadows against the tall pines that loomed like silent sentries around their makeshift camp. Selene sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, the hilt of the blade she'd just claimed resting across her lap. It hummed faintly, still warm from the ancient magic it carried, its weight heavier than mere metal.
Her fingers flexed around it. She couldn't stop thinking about the feeling of the blade responding to her touch, how it had sunk into her skin like it knew her. Like it remembered. As if it had been waiting for her all this time. The images it had shown her—flashes of her past life—still haunted the corners of her vision.
She stared into the flames, not really seeing them. Her breath fogged in the cold night air. The forest was quiet now, unnervingly so, and it was too easy to imagine eyes in the darkness.
She didn't hear Lucien approach. She never did. He moved like a shadow with a heartbeat, a quiet force of nature that always seemed to find her.
"You're shivering," he said, crouching beside her. The firelight painted gold along the edge of his jaw, and his silver hair glinted like moonlight. He shrugged off his coat. Without waiting for her to protest, he draped it over her shoulders.
"I'm not cold," she murmured, though she made no move to remove it.
"I know." He sat beside her anyway, close enough that their knees brushed. The contact was subtle, unspoken. But grounding. Steady.
Silence settled between them, thick and alive. There had been many nights like this lately—tense pauses in their journey where neither of them could bring themselves to say what they needed to. But tonight felt different. Charged. Fragile.
"You saw something," he said finally. His voice was low, almost reverent. "When you touched the blade."
Selene nodded, her gaze still on the fire. Her fingers curled tighter around the sword. "Pieces," she whispered. "Of who I was. Of what they took."
Lucien didn't speak for a while. Then, quietly, "Did you see me?"
That made her look at him. Really look. He was watching her with something raw in his eyes. Hope. Fear. Grief. The moonlight caught the edges of his lashes, the soft hollow of his cheekbone. He looked tired. Beautiful.
"Yes," she said. Her voice trembled. "I saw you. Before everything went wrong."
Lucien exhaled, shaky. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his knees. "Do you remember what I said to you the night before the burning?"
She nodded slowly. Her heart thudded louder than the fire's crackle. "You said you'd find me. No matter where they buried me."
His eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, they were shining. "Then let me find you now, Selene. Not the queen. Not the wolf. Just you."
Something inside her cracked. Maybe it was the weight of everything she'd remembered. Maybe it was the way he said her name like it was sacred. Either way, she reached out. Her hand found his, fingers trembling.
Their palms met. Their fingers curled together. And the moment she touched him, it was like lightning through her veins.
"I'm scared," she confessed, voice barely audible. "Everything's changing. I'm changing. I don't know where this ends."
Lucien turned to face her fully. His hand rose to her cheek, thumb brushing just beneath her eye. "Then don't do it alone. Let me stand beside you. Even if it means standing in the fire."
Selene leaned into his touch. Her eyes closed. And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, she allowed herself to feel it—all of it. The longing. The fear. The love she hadn't dared speak aloud.
He kissed her.
It was slow at first. Hesitant. The kind of kiss that asked a question and waited for the answer.
She answered.
Her hand fisted in his shirt. She pulled him closer. The sword slipped from her lap, forgotten. He leaned into her, cradling her face in both hands now, and kissed her like a dying man taking one last breath.
Her back met the blanket beneath them. Moss softened the cold earth, but not enough to hide the tremble in her spine. Lucien hovered above her, lips brushing down her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, exploring the warmth of his skin, the strength in his shoulders.
She had never wanted something so badly and feared it in the same breath.
"Tell me this is real," she whispered.
Lucien stilled, forehead pressed to hers. "It's real," he said, and she heard the break in his voice. "For as long as I have breath."
The night wrapped around them like a cocoon. The trees stood still. The wind hushed. Nothing existed beyond the circle of warmth they created. His touch was reverent, gentle, but laced with hunger. The kind that said I've waited a thousand years for this.
Her fingers found the scar beneath his ribs—an old wound, half-healed. Her lips followed. He shuddered, head tilted back. When he looked down at her, there was something aching in his expression.
"In another life," he murmured, "you were mine. And I let you go."
Tears blurred her vision. "In this life," she said, "you found me again."
He kissed her, deeper this time. No more hesitation. Her heart raced beneath his palms. Their bodies fit like matching pieces of a puzzle lost too long. She felt every brush of skin, every whispered breath, down to the marrow of her bones.
Hours passed like minutes.
When they finally lay in the quiet again, tangled in one another, Selene rested her head on his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart. Her hand curled around his wrist, holding him to her like an anchor.
"I'm not ready to lose you," she said softly.
Lucien didn't answer right away. His fingers drew idle patterns along her spine. "You won't. Not tonight."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. "Promise me."
He brushed his lips against her forehead. "I promise."
The blade at her side hummed again, faint and mournful. Almost as if it knew.
They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms. The stars wheeled above,
and the forest held its breath.
It would be the last peaceful night she ever knew.