The Hollow Lands didn’t sleep that night.
The altar’s glow still burned faintly behind them, pulsing like the echo of a heartbeat, but Aelira barely registered it. Her whole body hummed with a different kind of power—one born not from magic or bloodlines, but from heat, connection, and a truth she could no longer deny.
They had slipped away from the others after the kiss, silent and breathless, hearts racing like they’d stolen something from the gods. Maybe they had. Maybe what they were building together—through fire, war, ruin—was something sacred. Something forbidden.
Aelira stumbled backward through the tall grass of the glade, pulling Astren with her by the collar of his shirt. He followed easily, his silver eyes locked on her like he couldn’t get enough, like she was something hol
