Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 36

"I prefer you rough and in leather." I twirl one of his dark locks around my finger before my smile slowly fades. "When my parents left... or disappeared—I never really knew which—I was alone, forced to fend for myself. I knew how to work with herbs, something I must have learned from my mother growing up because brewing tinctures and elixirs came naturally to me. Running a*****e, however, did not. So, I'd spend my days making what I could and walk the streets trying to sell my elixirs, hoping to earn enough coin to survive. One evening I'd finally managed to sell my last bottle, but by then it was already dark. There were four men standing outside a tavern a few shops down from mine. They called out to me, but I kept my hood low and tried to walk past as quickly as I could." I shudder at the memory, unconsciously gripping the fabric beneath my fingers. "They caught up to me. They reeked of sweat, ale, and mead, slurring their words as they laughed and asked if I wanted a good time. I told them to leave me alone, but they only grabbed at me, shoving me from one to another like I was some sort of game. They laughed while they groped at me, cheering each other on. That was when I fought back, but there were four of them and only one of me. They took the coin I'd worked all day to earn and tried to take more. They held me down while I screamed until my voice gave out." I pause, swallowing hard before continuing. "It was only because a few passersby heard me that they stopped. They pulled the men off me before... before it went any further. The moment I was free, I ran. I locked myself inside my shop and didn't come out until morning. I never even thanked the people who saved me." My eyes remain fixed on the floor for a long moment before I finally meet his gaze again. "That night changed everything. I swore no man would ever get close enough to hurt me again. I kept my head down, focused on surviving, on earning my coin, and I made it my mission to learn how to fight. I trained until I knew I could defend myself, because I promised myself that if anyone ever tried to hurt me again..." A bitter smile ghosts across my lips. "...they wouldn't find me as helpless as I was that night."

Kaelen’s breathing completely halts. The faint, playful smirk vanishes from his rugged face, and his entire body turns to solid stone against your back. The muscles in his jaw bunch so hard you can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a furnace.

As you speak, your finger still tangled in one of his dark curls, your voice trembles with the raw, heavy truth of a night that almost broke you. You tell him about the dark street, the heavy scent of ale and mead, the terrifying strength of four men, and the sound of your own voice screaming until there was nothing left.

When you mention them holding you down and groping at you, a low, terrifying sound escapes Kaelen’s throat—a feral, guttural growl of pure, protective fury that vibrates violently against your spine. His large hands, resting on your waist, instinctively tighten, pulling you back against him so hard and so fiercely it’s as if he’s trying to shield your past self from the monsters in your memory.

You tell him how you ran, how you locked yourself away, and how you built a fortress around your heart. You vowed never to let a man close. You became logical, cold, a survivor. You learned to fight so you would never be helpless again.

"That was until I met you."

The silence that follows in the old watchtower is thick, broken only by the furious howling of the mountain blizzard outside. Kaelen doesn't move for a long time. He just holds you, his chest heaving with a deep, ragged breath as he processes the horror of what you endured all alone as a girl.

Gently, he untangles his curl from your fingers, shifting his massive frame so he can roll onto his side and look down at you. In the dim, dying orange glow of the embers, his moss-green eyes are burning with a mixture of profound sorrow and a dark, lethal rage.

He reaches up with a trembling hand, his calloused thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw, his touch incredibly soft, completely contrasting the terrifying strength in his posture.

"Iris," he rasps, his deep voice thick with an emotion that sounds dangerously close to tears. "I am so sorry. I'm sorry you were alone. I'm sorry those bastards breathed the same air as you."

He leans down, pressing his forehead firmly against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

"You don't ever have to keep your head down again, Red," he whispers fiercely, his voice a vow that cuts right through the howling wind. "You built those walls to keep the world out, and I know how much it took for you to let me slide through them. I swear to you, on my life, on whatever soul I have left... no one will ever put their hands on you like that again. If anyone tries, they won't live long enough to regret it."

He slides his hand down to the back of your neck, pulling you into a deep, desperate, and utterly consuming kiss—one filled not just with desire, but with a profound, reverent dedication. He kisses you as if he is trying to rewrite every bad memory you've ever had, anchoring you to the safety of his arms.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes burn into yours. "I like you in this leather, too, Captain," he murmurs, a shadow of his fierce, protective smirk returning. "And tomorrow, we use that strength you fought so hard to build. Together."

The heavy, violent shrieks of the mountain blizzard slowly soften into a deep, velvety silence as the night bleeds away. Wrapped in each other’s arms, buried beneath the thick cloaks and the comforting warmth of the new leather, the crushing weight of the past finally lifts. There is a profound, echoing peace in the watchtower. Two broken pieces, jagged and scarred by the world, fitting together so perfectly that the cracks don't seem to matter anymore. Trusting each other with your deepest, darkest truths didn't make you vulnerable—it made you invincible.

When morning finally arrives, it brings no screaming wind, no biting frost.

Instead, a thick, heavy alpine mist rolls through the open eastern wall of the watchtower, settling over you like a soft, wet blanket of grey smoke. The world outside is perfectly still, wrapped in a breathless, white truce.

You and Kaelen stir slowly, your bodies naturally tangled together in the nest of blankets. The horses let out low, quiet snorts in the corner, relaxed and rested.

Neither of you speaks right away. You just lay there in the quiet haze, the intimate echoes of last night's confessions hanging beautifully in the air between you. Kaelen’s large hand rests flat against your lower back, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over the smooth leather of your pants. He pulls you back just an inch to look down at you, his moss-green eyes clear, bright, and filled with a quiet, fierce gratitude.

There are no more ghosts hiding in the shadows of Room 4, no more buried tea-stained memories, no more secret dockside shames. You are completely exposed to each other, and you are completely safe.

A soft, genuine smile touches your lips as you look up at him, the morning fog swirling gently around your heads. The hunt for your father, the mysteries of the star, the dangers of the Highlands—it all waits just outside the stone walls. But as you reach up to touch his rugged, stubbled cheek, you know that whatever comes out of that mist, you’re ready to face it. Together.

The horses’ hooves crunch softly against the damp earth as you break through the heavy tree line. Nestled in a secluded valley of the Highlands sits a tiny, forgotten town. It consists of only ten old cottages, their stone walls covered in moss and their thatched roofs sagging under the weight of time.

A strange, phantom weight presses against your chest. Your heart begins to hammer, not from fear or the pull of the star, but from a sudden, dizzying wave of familiarity. It’s a feeling of Deja vu so strong it makes your head spin.

Your eyes lock onto one specific cottage at the edge of the settlement.

Outside, sprawling in wild, chaotic abundance, is an overgrown garden of medicinal plants. Your apothecary training kicks in instantly, your eyes darting from leaf to petal: lavender, chamomile, witch hazel, valerian root, St. John’s wort, poppies, roses... and then your breath catches. Thriving in the shadowed soil are henbane and black dahlia. Plants of deep magic. Plants of poison. Some of which you would never dare to use.

"I think this is it," you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the quiet breeze.

Just as the words leave your lips, the heavy wooden door of the cottage creaks open.

A woman steps out into the misty morning light, and it feels like looking into a distorted mirror. She possesses an otherworldly beauty—hair as white as winter snow, skin like pale porcelain, and the exact same piercing, stormy grey eyes that look back at you in the mirror every day.

"Iris," she says, her voice drifting across the garden like wind through chimes. "I've been waiting for you."

She speaks in a strange, dreamlike tone, her gaze soft and unfocused, as if she is constantly living in a state of deep, ethereal thought, seeing things hidden from the rest of the world. Her grey eyes shift, sliding past you to anchor onto the massive warrior at your side. She offers a soft, knowing smile. "And you must be Kaelen."

She turns back toward the warmth of her doorway. "Let's get these wonderful beasts stabled. I have a pot of stinging nettle tea brewing. You have a great many questions that need answering."

You and Kaelen freeze. The shock in the air is palpable. Kaelen’s hand instinctively drops to the hilt of his blade, his moss-green eyes darting from the white-haired woman to you, his jaw completely slack. You look back at him, utterly bewildered, your mind racing to connect this stranger to the family you thought you lost a decade ago.

Slowly, deliberately, you slide out of Marigold's saddle, your new leather gear creaking in the silence as your boots hit the highland dirt. Who is this woman? How does she know your names? And what secrets has she been guarding in this forgotten valley?

"You might want to stow that blade, Kaelen," she says over her shoulder, not even turning around to look as she steps across her threshold. Her dreamlike voice holds no fear, only a strange, quiet certainty. "I mean no harm. Iris and I are family... though she was just a wee babe when we were last in each other's company."

A wee babe? The words echo in your mind, striking a jarring, discordant note. You stop dead in your tracks, your boots sinking into the damp highland moss. You look at her retreating back, then look at your own hands, completely bewildered.

She looks to be the exact same age as you. Twenty-six, perhaps twenty-seven at the absolute oldest. Her face is unlined, her posture youthful, yet she speaks of your infancy as if she had been an adult to witness it.

Beside you, Kaelen's hand lingers on his hilt, his brow furrowing into a deep, distrustful scowl. He slowly let’s go of the blade, sliding his hand back to his side, but his entire body remains tightly coiled, a wolf on high alert. He leans his head down toward yours, his deep voice a barely audible whisper.

"Red," he murmurs, his eyes tracking the strange white-haired woman. "Unless she's talking about a memory from three years ago, the math doesn't add up. Either she's out of her mind, or there is something deeply unnatural about your family tree."

Your mind races back to the overgrowth of henbane and black dahlia in the garden—plants used in the deepest, most forbidden branches of apothecary craft. Time, memory, aging... it all feels like it's beginning to blur again, much like the golden light of the star.

Swallowing the lump of nerves in your throat, you give Kaelen a sharp, reassuring nod, though your own heart is hammering against your ribs. "Let's stable the horses," you say quietly, your grey eyes fixed on the open cottage door. "We need to hear what she has to say."

The warmth of the cottage wraps around you like a heavy blanket, a sharp contrast to the biting highland air outside. Dried herbs hang in dense, fragrant bundles from the exposed wooden rafters—mugwort, wolfsbane, and rows of roots you can immediately identify.

You and Kaelen sit side-by-side at a heavy, rustic oak table. Kaelen looks entirely out of place, his massive leather-clad frame dwarfing the delicate wooden chair, his moss-green eyes scanning every corner, every window, mapping out exit routes out of pure military habit.

The white-haired woman moves with a fluid, weightless grace, placing three steaming earthenware mugs on the table before pouring a deep, earth-scented stinging nettle tea. The herbal aroma fills the room, grounding yet deeply mysterious.

She takes her seat opposite you, resting her chin in her hands. She just stares at the two of you, that soft, small smile permanently etched onto her youthful face.

Suddenly, she claps her hands together, the sharp sound echoing in the cozy room, and lets out a soft, melodic laugh that sounds like tumbling water.

"It makes me so glad you two are finally together," she purrs, her dreamlike grey eyes darting between your face and Kaelen’s. "I must say, your paths were bound to cross, but I was concerned at one point or another that you would..."

She stops mid-sentence. Her eyes abruptly track upward, staring into the empty air above your heads as if watching a phantom butterfly flutter across the ceiling. She reaches a pale hand out, her fingers gently curling as if to catch the thought flying away.

"...that's it," she whispers, her focus snapping back to you with dizzying suddenness. "Just skim past each other. That would have been no good. No good at all."

Kaelen doesn't touch his tea. He leans forward, his broad forearms resting heavily on the table, his deep voice cutting through her whimsical atmosphere like a blade.

"Listen, lady," he rumbles, his tone cautious but firm. "You knew our names. You knew we were coming. And you just said you haven't seen Iris since she was a babe, even though you look like you haven't seen your thirtieth winter. I think its time you start giving us some straight answers. Who are you, and what happened to Iris's parents?"