Episode 10: “The First Time We’re All in the Same Room”
874 Words
It happened three nights later.
I was asleep when the air in my room went wrong—half scorching, half freezing, like standing between two seasons at once. My eyes snapped open.
Vaelric was in my chair.
Nyxar was at my window.
And neither of them was pretending the other wasn’t there.
“Don’t scream,” Vaelric said. He looked tired. No scales, no fire, just a man in black with his shoulders hunched like he was carrying weight. “I didn’t come to fight.”
Nyxar didn’t answer. He just stepped through the glass, silent, and stood beside the bed. His eyes went from me to Vaelric and back.
Mara jolted awake on her cot, knife in hand. “What the hell—”
“Out,” Vaelric said, but this time it wasn’t a command. It was a plea.
Mara looked at me. I nodded. She left, shutting the door with a soft click.
Now it was just us. Three of us. One room. One bond stretched taut between us.
Vaelric stood. “I told you I’d try,” he said to me. Then, to Nyxar: “So I’m trying.”
Nyxar’s jaw tightened. “You burned the ridge to ash.”
“I didn’t touch you,” Vaelric shot back. “I walked away.”
“Barely.”
“Enough,” I said. My voice cut through both of them. “You’re both here. So talk. Not through me. To each other.”
They didn’t. For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the hearth and the faint hiss of frost meeting heat where Nyxar’s shadow fell across the floorboards.
Then Vaelric exhaled. “You’re fading,” he said to Nyxar. Blunt. No malice.
Nyxar didn’t flinch. “I know.”
“Why?”
“Because ash doesn’t last,” Nyxar said. “Not without something to hold it.”
Vaelric’s eyes flicked to me. “She’s holding you.”
“I’m trying,” I said.
Vaelric turned to me fully. “And me? Am I fading too?”
“No,” I said. “You’re burning too hot. You’re not fading. You’re consuming.”
He winced. “Then tell me how to stop.”
The honesty in his voice broke something in me. I slid out of bed, bare feet on the cold floor. I went to Nyxar first. Took his hand. Cold, solid, real. Then I went to Vaelric. Took his too. Hot, careful, restrained.
“Like this,” I said. “You both touch me. You both stay. And you stop pretending the other one isn’t here.”
Vaelric’s fingers curled around mine. Nyxar’s did too. For a second, the room balanced—heat on my right, cold on my left, and me in the middle, breathing.
“It hurts,” Vaelric admitted quietly. “Feeling him in you when I touch you.”
“It hurts me too,” Nyxar said. “Feeling you burn in her when I kiss her.”
“I know,” I said. “But hurting doesn’t mean stopping. It means we’re all still here.”
Vaelric looked at Nyxar. Really looked. Not through fire, not through fury. Just… seeing him.
“You’re not just ash,” Vaelric said. “You’re her.”
Nyxar nodded once. “And you’re her too.”
The bond pulsed. Not like a war drum. Like a heartbeat. Three beats, falling into rhythm.
Vaelric lifted my hand to his lips. Didn’t kiss it. Just pressed his forehead there. Hot against my skin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “For the ridge. For the fire. For all of it.”
Nyxar did the same on my other hand. Cold against my skin. “I’m sorry too,” he whispered. “For the silence. For the blood. For leaving you to choose.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I said. “Not anymore.”
They didn’t let go. Not for a long time. We stood there, a triangle of heat and cold and stubborn, messy, impossible balance.
When they finally did, Vaelric went to the window. Nyxar went to the door. Neither left, though.
“I’ll be at the ridge,” Vaelric said.
“I’ll be at the window,” Nyxar said.
“And I’ll be here,” I said. “Between you.”
Vaelric glanced back. For the first time since the solstice, he almost smiled. “Don’t burn down the house.”
“Don’t freeze it solid,” Nyxar added.
“I’ll try not to,” I said.
They left. One through fire, one through frost. And the room, impossibly, felt warmer.
Mara came back in ten minutes later. “Well?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, crawling back into bed, still holding the ghost of their hands, “I think we just stopped pretending.”
She sat on the edge of my bed. “And if it falls apart?”
“Then we’ll burn,” I said. “And freeze. And build it again.”
Mara nodded. “Good answer.”
I fell asleep with one hand burning and the other freezing. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like tearing.
It felt like being held.
- Writer
