The air was thick with tension, not from battle, but from something older, more personal. Elira stood at the edge of the ruined courtyard, the wind teasing her cloak, her eyes locked on Kael across the broken stone. The sky was bruised with the violet wash of dusk, and the last sunfire bled through the clouds like a wound that refused to close.
"You shouldn't have come alone," she said, voice low but steady.
Kael didn't move. The crown he hadn’t asked for weighed heavier than any chain. “And you should’ve left when you had the chance.”
Her jaw tightened. “We both know that’s not who I am.”
He let out a sound—part sigh, part bitter laugh. “No. You're the storm. The fire I tried to tame.” His eyes lifted to hers. “And failed.”
For a breathless moment, the silence between them was louder
