The village of the lizardmen was unlike anything Ember or Elena had seen before. It wasn’t like Redogs, where the toads had at least welcomed them, nor was it like Iorph, where everything was built into the rock and blended seamlessly with the land. Here, the homes were squat and rugged, made of thick, sunbaked clay and draped in heavy cloth coverings, likely to shield against the heat. Smoke rose lazily from small chimneys, and the air carried the distinct scent of dried meat and something earthy—perhaps the scent of their own kind.

  The villagers moved like shadows, slipping through narrow streets between buildings, their scaled feet making little noise. Long tails swayed behind them, dragging along the dust-covered ground. Some wore minimal clothing, just enough to cover themselves modestly, while others had layered, colorful robes that shimmered slightly under the weak light filtering through the sky.

  But the most unsettling part?

  No one acknowledged them.

  Not a single lizardman greeted them or offered even a nod. Some whispered behind their clawed hands, their yellow slit-like eyes darting toward the two travelers before quickly looking away. Others scanned them from head to toe, as if assessing their worth—though not as people, but as potential marks for theft.

  Ember clenched her jaw, stepping a little closer to Elena, her grip tightening on her spear. The way they looked at Elena bothered her more than she cared to admit. It wasn’t outright hostility, but there was something unsettling in the way they moved, as if waiting for the right moment to approach. A slow, creeping kind of tension.

  Elena, meanwhile, was stiff as a board, her eyes darting around warily. Ember could tell—just by the way she was holding herself—that she was uncomfortable. No, scared. She’d seen this before. It was the same look she had when they first encountered the toads, though this time, it was worse. Maybe it was the way the lizardmen’s scales glistened in the dim light, their sharp claws tapping against their weapons, or the way their tongues flicked out now and then, tasting the air.

  Ember had never really seen Elena afraid of creatures before.

  And she didn’t like it.

  Still, they had to figure out a way to get food. They had some dried rations from Redogs, but fresh fruit would be better. Luckily, not too far down the street, they spotted a small wooden cart covered in a netted canopy. It was filled with large, round fruits, bright red in color, like the apples from the underground gardens in Iorph.

  Elena brightened at the sight and immediately stepped forward. “Excuse me,” she said, approaching the vendor. “Can we have one of these?”

  The vendor, a broad-shouldered lizardman with dark green scales and deep golden eyes, barely gave them a glance before speaking in a gravelly voice. “One apple. Three cleks.”

  Ember and Elena exchanged glances.

  “…Three what?” Elena asked hesitantly.

  The vendor sighed, his long forked tongue flicking out in irritation. “Three cleks. Coins. Money.”

  Still, they stared at him, uncomprehending.

  The lizardman narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have money?”

  Elena hesitated. “W-We… don’t use money.”

  That was an understatement. Iorph had never used any kind of currency. Their entire society functioned on sharing, trade, and necessity. If someone needed food, they got food. If someone needed clothes, they got clothes. There was never an exchange of value—only the understanding that everyone contributed in their own way.

  But here…

  The vendor let out a sharp, barking laugh. “Then get lost.”

  Elena blinked. “Huh?”

  “Get. Lost.” The lizardman shooed them away with his claws, his tail slapping the ground in annoyance. “I don’t hand out food to beggars.”

  Elena stiffened, her lips parting slightly in shock. Ember immediately stepped forward, her eyes burning with an unspoken warning. The vendor met her gaze but quickly looked away, clicking his tongue in frustration.

  “Fine, fine. Just go already,” he grumbled.

  Elena turned to Ember, her expression lost. “Did we just get… rejected?”

  Ember crossed her arms. “Seems like it.”

  “But… why? I don’t understand.” Elena furrowed her brows, still struggling to process it. “We just need food. Why can’t they just give it to us?”

  Ember sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “Because that’s how things work here, apparently. No money, no food.”

  “That’s… stupid,” Elena muttered, pouting.

  Ember smirked at that. “Agreed.”

  They stood there for a moment, the reality settling in. They needed to figure out something fast—whether it was finding a way to earn “cleks” or trading something valuable. Otherwise, they weren’t going to last very long in this village.

  And judging by the way the lizardmen kept watching them, they wouldn’t be welcomed here for long, either.

  Elena lightly tugged at Ember’s arm, looking around as if she expected one of the lizardmen to follow them. “Can we just… get away from here? This place feels wrong.”

  Ember didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  The moment they stepped out of the village, Elena let out a quiet breath of relief. The tension that had wrapped around her since entering that place loosened just a bit, but she still felt unsettled. It wasn’t just the way they were ignored—it was the way they were watched. The way the lizardmen scanned them as if assessing their worth, the way they whispered, and worst of all… the way one of them had clicked their tongue when they left.

  Like they had been waiting for something.

  Leaving the village was as easy as entering it. Too easy. There were no guards, no gates, nothing stopping them. Just the eerie feeling that lingered as they moved farther and farther from the settlement. Even after the village was out of sight, the unease didn’t fade.

  Elena sighed loudly. “Cleks,” she muttered, kicking at the ground as they walked through the dense trees of the forest ahead. “It’s so stupid.”

  Ember glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re still on about that?”

  “Yes! It’s just so unfair! What if someone was starving? What if they were too weak to work? Would they just let them die because they don’t have some stupid metal discs?”

  Ember smirked slightly at Elena’s rant, but she said nothing, just letting her talk.

  “It’s just… cruel,” Elena continued, crossing her arms. “Back home, we never had to earn food. If you were hungry, you ate. If you needed something, someone helped you. But here? If you don’t have these ‘cleks,’ you’re nothing. You’re worthless.”

  Ember knew that Elena was speaking out of frustration, but something about the way she said that last part made her chest tighten.

  Worthless.

  Ember had felt that way before. Many times.

  But as much as she wanted to say something to comfort her, she found herself just watching her instead. The way Elena’s brows furrowed in frustration, the way her lips pursed as she muttered under her breath, the way the fading light of the sun peeked through the trees and cast golden shadows on her face—

  Beautiful.

  It was stupid, really. They were walking through an unknown forest, they were running low on supplies, and yet here Ember was, just… watching her. Like she was some kind of rare, fleeting thing.

  She should have been paying attention.

  She should have noticed the silence.

  She should have heard the faint rustling.

  She should have realized they were being followed.

  But she didn’t.

  Because at that moment, all she saw was Elena.

  And that was when a lizardman lunged out of the shadows.

  Elena barely had time to gasp before Ember’s instincts finally kicked in.

  With lightning reflexes, Ember grabbed Elena and yanked her behind her just as the attacker’s blade sliced through the air where Elena had been standing. Ember twisted, unsheathing her spear in one swift motion, the blade glinting under the dimming light.

  And then, before they could even catch their breath, more shadows moved.

  From behind the trees, at least four more lizardmen emerged, each armed with jagged knives and crude spears. Their golden eyes glowed eerily in the fading light, their forked tongues flicking out as they took slow, measured steps toward them.

  Elena clutched Ember’s arm. “I knew it! I knew something was off about that village!”

  Ember gritted her teeth. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. Not the time.”

  One of the lizardmen stepped forward, a particularly large one with dark, scarred scales. He grinned, revealing sharp, uneven teeth. “You two don’t belong here,” he hissed, his voice low and gravelly. “Travelers shouldn’t wander without protection.”

  Elena scowled. “Oh? And let me guess, you’re offering?”

  The lizardman chuckled darkly. “Smart girl. You give us your valuables, and maybe we let you walk away.”

  Ember’s grip on her spear tightened. “Not happening.”

  The lizardman tilted his head. “Pity.”

  And then he lunged.

  Ember reacted instantly. She raised her spear, parrying the attack with ease, the force sending a shockwave up her arms. She twisted, using the shaft of the spear to knock the attacker off balance. Another one came at her from the side, but she ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as a blade narrowly missed her shoulder.

  “Elena, stay behind me!” she shouted.

  But Elena had already grabbed her dagger, her stance tense but ready. “I can fight, you know!”

  Ember didn’t have time to argue.

  The battle was quick and chaotic—Ember struck fast, using her agility to dodge and counter, while Elena, though less experienced, held her ground, keeping one of the attackers at bay with quick, sharp movements.

  Then, just as Ember knocked one of them back, the large lizardman snarled and rushed at Elena, his claws outstretched.

  “Elena!”

  Elena’s eyes widened. She raised her dagger, but she was too slow—

  A sharp thwip cut through the air.

  The lizardman let out a strangled noise before stumbling back, clutching his shoulder where a small, glowing arrow had embedded itself.

  Ember and Elena both turned—

  And saw a figure standing at the edge of the trees, a bow in their hands.

  The lizardmen froze.

  The leader, still gripping his wounded shoulder, hissed under his breath, his eyes darting toward the arrow embedded in his scales. His expression twisted from rage to something else—unease.

  "It’s them," one of the others muttered, stepping back slightly.

  Ember tightened her grip on her spear. "Them?"

  Before she could question further, the sound of footsteps approached from beyond the trees. Slow, deliberate, confident.

  And then, stepping into the clearing, was the man who had fired the arrow.

  He was nothing like the lizardmen.

  Where they were rough and scaled, he was smooth-skinned, fair and unmarked. He stood tall on two legs, his posture relaxed but alert, as if he was used to standing between prey and predator. His clothes were strange—light yet durable-looking, adorned with subtle patterns that shimmered faintly under the dimming sky. His hair was dark, falling just past his shoulders, and his eyes… they were sharp, bright with intelligence, carrying an almost amused glint as he took in the situation.

  Ember immediately stepped in front of Elena, raising her spear. "Stay behind me," she murmured.

  Elena didn’t argue this time.

  The stranger saw Ember’s wary stance and slowed his approach, lifting both hands in the air. His bow was slung across his back now, his quiver half full, but he made no move toward them.

  "Relax," he said, his voice smooth and even. "I’m not your enemy."

  Ember didn’t lower her weapon. "We’ll decide that."

  The lizardmen were still frozen in place, eyeing the stranger with uncertainty. Their leader's tail flicked, and after a tense moment, he spat, "Tch—this isn’t worth it." He shot one last glare at Ember and Elena before motioning to his group. "Come on. We’re leaving."

  One by one, the lizardmen backed away, slipping into the shadows of the trees as swiftly as they had emerged. Soon, only their rustling footfalls remained before those, too, faded into silence.

  Only then did Ember shift her focus back to the man before them. "Who are you?" she demanded.

  He smiled, tilting his head slightly. "I should be the one asking that. You’re the ones wandering through a forest full of creatures that don’t take kindly to outsiders."

  Ember narrowed her eyes, refusing to be thrown off. "That doesn’t answer my question."

  He let out a small chuckle. "Fair enough." He took a step closer, then—slowly, deliberately—unhooked the strap holding his weapons and placed them on the ground. His quiver, his bow, a small dagger at his side.

  Then he straightened up and placed a hand over his chest. "My name is Kaelen," he introduced himself. "And you are?"

  Elena peeked from behind Ember, her eyes flicking from Kaelen to the weapons at his feet. He really was trying to show them he wasn’t a threat.

  Ember wasn’t so easily convinced. "Why did the lizardmen react like that?" she asked instead. "They knew that arrow. They knew you."

  Kaelen’s smirk faded into something more thoughtful. "Because of what I am."

  "And what are you*?"*

  At that, he exhaled through his nose and shrugged. "A hunter. A traveler. An… outlier, you could say." His lips curled slightly at his own words. "Let’s just say, my kind doesn’t stay in one place for long. And the lizardmen? They don’t like what they can’t control."

  Ember didn’t let up. "Your kind. You’re not human, are you?"

  Kaelen’s smile deepened. "Not quite."

  Elena finally spoke. "Then what are you?"

  For a brief moment, Kaelen hesitated.

  Then, with a slight bow, he answered, "I am of the Aelyr."

  The name meant nothing to them.

  And yet, something about it felt… ancient.

  Kaelen must have noticed their expressions, because he added, "You don’t need to be afraid of me. If I wanted to harm you, I would have let those lizardmen have their way with you." His gaze flickered to Elena, then back to Ember. "And you really should be more aware of your surroundings. You were too busy staring at your friend to notice them sneaking up on you."

  Ember felt heat rush to her face. "Excuse me?"

  Kaelen grinned, amused. "I’m just saying."

  Elena blinked between them, then stifled a laugh.

  Ember shot her a glare. "Not funny."

  "It’s a little funny," Elena admitted.

  Kaelen’s gaze softened slightly. "You’re lucky I was nearby. Lizardmen aren’t the worst thing lurking in these forests."

  At that, Elena’s humor faded, and Ember gripped her spear tighter.

  "What else is out here?" Ember asked.

  Kaelen picked up his weapons again, strapping them back into place. "Walk with me," he said. "I’ll explain."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ember exchanged a glance with Elena. Neither of them fully trusted this stranger, but he had saved them. And if there were worse things out here… maybe they needed him.

  Finally, Ember let out a small sigh. "Fine."

  And together, they followed Kaelen into the darkening woods.

  Kaelen led them deeper into the forest, his posture relaxed, his hands moving fluidly as he spoke, like a storyteller who had recited these words countless times before.

  “The Aelyr,” he began, stepping over a root effortlessly, “are wanderers. We don’t have kingdoms, castles, or great cities. We move with the world, adapting to where the wind takes us.”

  Elena’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “So, you don’t have a home?”

  Kaelen glanced at her, amusement flickering in his gaze. “The world is our home. But we do have gathering places—like the Nest.” He gestured ahead. “That’s where I’m taking you.”

  Ember, arms crossed, walked beside them but kept her distance. She wasn’t sure why this Kaelen was bothering her so much. Maybe it was the way he looked at Elena, answering every question she had with a smile. Maybe it was the way Elena leaned in, hanging onto his every word, as if his stories were some great discovery she’d been waiting for. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way Kaelen’s hand brushed against Elena’s arm ever so lightly, and Elena didn’t seem to mind.

  Ember gritted her teeth.

  Kaelen wasn’t done talking.

  “This forest is protected,” he said, reaching out and plucking a strange flower from a nearby bush. It was blue, almost translucent, shimmering under the fading light. “Not just by us, but by the Golust—a presence older than even my people. Some call them fairies, others spirits. They watch over this land, ensuring balance.”

  Elena’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean by balance?”

  Kaelen smiled, twirling the flower between his fingers. “Everything in this forest has a purpose. Even the dangers.”

  As if to prove his point, he stepped forward and knelt beside a patch of moss. He reached out, brushing his fingers over the soft green surface—then suddenly yanked his hand away as thin, hair-like strands shot out from the moss, writhing in the air like grasping fingers before retracting.

  Elena gasped.

  Ember raised an eyebrow.

  Kaelen chuckled. “That’s Vether’s Moss. It reacts to warmth and movement. Step on it, and it’ll try to pull you down.”

  Elena’s face paled. “That’s terrifying.”

  Kaelen shrugged. “Only if you don’t know where to step.”

  Ember let out a small huff. “And what happens if someone does step on it?”

  Kaelen shot her a look, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “They’d find out pretty quickly.”

  Ember rolled her eyes.

  They moved on, Kaelen demonstrating different aspects of the forest. He showed them how certain berries could cause vivid hallucinations, while others could instantly soothe pain. He pointed out plants that could mimic the scent of water, luring in thirsty travelers only to trap them in a thick, sticky resin.

  Elena was fascinated. She kept asking questions—about the Golust, about the plants, about the way the forest shifted like it was alive. And Kaelen answered them all, never once seeming annoyed. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

  Ember, on the other hand, was seething.

  She should be listening, should be learning—this was important information. But all she could focus on was the way Elena was smiling at him.

  And the way he smiled back.

  Every time Kaelen leaned in to explain something, Ember’s fists clenched. And when he touched Elena’s arm to guide her hand toward a harmless, glowing mushroom, Ember nearly lost it.

  Her whole body tensed, words bubbling up in her throat, don’t touch her—

  But she bit her tongue.

  Barely.

  Kaelen, the insufferable man, cast her a side glance, as if he knew.

  He was doing this on purpose.

  And the worst part? It was working.

  By the time they reached the Nest, Ember was practically radiating with frustration.

  The Nest wasn’t like the lizardmen’s village. It wasn’t filled with stone and dirt—it was woven into the forest itself. Large wooden platforms stretched across the trees, connected by thick rope bridges and spiraling staircases carved into the bark. The air was filled with the scent of burning wood, the faint sound of string instruments humming in the background.

  Aelyr of all ages moved about, their clothing light and flowing, their features carrying a distinct, almost ethereal beauty. They were similar to humans, but… different.

  Welcoming.

  Unlike the lizardmen, no one glared at them, no one whispered about them or scanned them for valuables. The Aelyr greeted Kaelen with nods, a few waving casually as if he had simply returned from a short trip.

  Kaelen turned to them. “This is the Nest.”

  Elena’s eyes sparkled. “It’s beautiful.”

  Ember muttered under her breath, “It’s alright.”

  Kaelen smirked. “You wound me.”

  Elena giggled.

  Ember was going to kill him.

  Kaelen led them further in, explaining things along the way—like how the Aelyr used cleks, a form of currency made from rare stones found in the deeper parts of the forest.

  Elena listened intently, nodding as he spoke. “So that’s why the lizardmen looked at us like we were crazy,” she said.

  Kaelen chuckled. “Lizardmen are… territorial. And greedy. They hoard wealth even though they have no real use for it.” He glanced at Ember. “I imagine you weren’t too fond of them.”

  Ember crossed her arms. “No kidding.”

  Kaelen grinned.

  Ember wanted to wipe that grin off his face.

  As Kaelen continued explaining the finer details of trading, Ember stood off to the side, arms still crossed, glaring at the two of them.

  Elena was smiling again.

  She was always smiling.

  She had smiled at Ember countless times, but somehow, seeing her smile at him felt different. It burned.

  And then—

  “Why are you staring like that?”

  A small voice broke Ember out of her thoughts.

  She blinked and turned her head to find a young Aelyr child standing beside her, no older than eight or nine. The kid was looking up at her with wide, curious eyes.

  Ember cleared her throat. “What?”

  “You’re staring,” the kid repeated, pointing at Kaelen and Elena. “You look mad.”

  Ember exhaled sharply. “I am mad.”

  The child tilted their head. “Why?”

  Ember hesitated.

  She wasn’t about to explain jealousy to a child.

  Before she could change the subject, the kid’s gaze flickered downward, landing on the sigil wrapped around Ember’s waist. Their eyes widened.

  “What’s that?” they asked, reaching out a tiny hand toward it.

  Ember instinctively stepped back, gripping the fabric. “It’s mine.”

  The kid frowned. “But what is it? It looks important.”

  Ember stared down at the sigil—the very thing that tied her to Iorph, to her people. To her past.

  “…It is.”

  The child looked up at her expectantly, waiting for more.

  But Ember had already turned her gaze back to Kaelen and Elena.

  And once again, that familiar burn settled deep in her chest.

  For a moment, Ember thought Elena was looking at her.

  The child had not moved, still staring up at her with that expectant curiosity, but Elena—her gaze had drifted from Kaelen, her bright eyes falling upon Ember instead. And just for that fleeting second, Ember felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.

  Maybe—just maybe—Elena had noticed. Maybe she understood the strange frustration Ember hadn’t been able to shake ever since Kaelen appeared.

  Maybe she would say something—anything.

  And then—

  “Elena—” Ember started, stepping forward.

  But before she could finish, Elena suddenly rushed past her, her attention not on Ember, but on the child.

  Ember froze.

  Elena crouched down, lowering herself to the child’s height, her hands reaching out to squish his cheeks with a delighted laugh.

  “Aww, you’re so cute!” Elena cooed, gently pressing the boy’s soft cheeks together until his lips puckered slightly. “What’s your name?”

  The child blinked, seemingly startled by the sudden attention. “Um… Rellin.”

  “Rellin!” Elena repeated, giggling. “You’re adorable.”

  Ember exhaled sharply through her nose.

  That unfamiliar warmth she had felt a moment ago? Completely gone.

  Instead, she folded her arms, lips pressing into a thin line as she watched Elena shower the child with affection.

  “Where’s your family, Rellin?” Elena asked, still holding his face.

  “They’re at home,” the boy answered.

  “Ohh, so they’re resting?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  Elena gasped dramatically. “So that means you must be really strong coming out here alone, huh?”

  The boy puffed out his chest, nodding enthusiastically. “Mhm! I can lift a hammer almost as big as me!”

  Elena gasped again, eyes shining with amusement. “Wow, that’s amazing! You’re like a little warrior already!”

  Ember sighed.

  This was… ridiculous.

  But then—Elena’s laughter, the way her voice softened with excitement, the way her smile seemed to brighten the dimming light of the Nest—Ember found herself watching despite her annoyance.

  And worse?

  She smiled.

  It was small, barely noticeable, but it was there.

  Something about the way Elena interacted with the boy, the way she leaned in as if the child’s words were the most important thing in the world—it was just… so Elena.

  Without thinking, Ember knelt down as well.

  She wasn’t good at this. Not at all. But if Elena was talking to the child, she could at least try.

  And that was her first mistake.

  Elena, mid-sentence, had been telling Rellin a whimsical story about the sigil Ember carried, something lighthearted about how it represented the strength of their people.

  And then Ember—without thinking—added:

  “But of course, if it ever falls into the wrong hands, it can bring ruin upon anyone foolish enough to wield it. Some say it calls upon the spirits of those who died in battle, haunting whoever dares misuse its power.”

  Silence.

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  Elena turned to Ember, horrified.

  And then—

  Rellin burst into tears.

  Ember winced. “Ah.”

  Elena gasped, pulling the child into a comforting hug. “Ember!” she scolded. “Why would you say that!?”

  Ember scratched the back of her head. “…I thought it’d make it more interesting?”

  Rellin, still sobbing into Elena’s arms, wailed, “I don’t want ghosts to haunt me!”

  Elena shot Ember a glare. “You terrified him!”

  Ember sighed. “Okay, fine.” She awkwardly reached out, patting the boy’s head stiffly. “There are no ghosts. I made that up.”

  Rellin sniffled. “…Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “…Are you sure?”

  Ember hesitated. “Mostly.”

  Rellin sobbed harder.

  Elena shot her another glare before whispering reassurances to the boy, rubbing his back soothingly.

  Ember sighed again.

  So much for trying.

  And just when she thought this situation couldn’t get any more annoying—

  A familiar voice called out:

  “I see you’re getting along well.”

  Ember stiffened.

  Kaelen.

  She turned to see him approaching, that same smug look on his face, his arms crossed as he took in the scene. His eyes flickered toward Rellin, then to Elena, then to Ember.

  “You made a kid cry?” he asked, amusement evident in his voice.

  Ember gritted her teeth. “It was an accident.”

  Elena stood up, still holding Rellin’s hand. “Ember scared him.”

  Kaelen chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Ember clenched her fists.

  Before she could snap at him, Kaelen spoke again, his voice shifting into something more casual.

  “I prepared a place for you both to rest,” he said, nodding toward the inner part of the Nest. “Figured you’d be tired after everything.”

  Elena’s expression brightened. “Oh! That’s really nice of you, Kaelen.”

  Kaelen smiled. “No trouble at all. I also checked in with the Elder. She’s allowing you to stay until your paths take you elsewhere.”

  Ember’s eyes narrowed. “Allowing us?”

  Kaelen shrugged. “The Aelyr don’t usually take in outsiders. Consider it a kindness.”

  Elena tilted her head. “But… doesn’t that mean we’ll have to leave soon?”

  Kaelen hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes. But not immediately.”

  He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re moving the Nest soon. Further into the forest. Not too far from where you’re headed, actually.”

  Ember felt something burn inside her.

  This wasn’t happening.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  First, he gets to show off. Then, he gets to charm Elena with his endless knowledge of the forest. And now—now—he would still be around, even after they left?

  Her stomach twisted.

  Elena, on the other hand, seemed relieved. “That’s great! We won’t have to part ways so soon.”

  Kaelen smiled. “Seems that way.”

  Ember turned away, biting the inside of her cheek.

  It wasn’t jealousy.

  It wasn’t.

  …Right?

  Kaelen led them through the Nest like a guide who enjoyed his job far too much.

  “And over here,” he gestured to an open area where fruits hung from sturdy wooden beams, “is where you can grab a bite when you need it. We trade for meat sometimes, but mostly, we live off the land.”

  Elena nodded, genuinely intrigued. “That’s amazing. You don’t even need currency?”

  Kaelen smiled. “Not the same way you’d see in human settlements. We trade among ourselves, but survival is shared.”

  Ember barely heard him.

  Her mind was a storm.

  Not only would he be around for longer than necessary, but he was still casually entertaining Elena with his knowledge. And Elena, as always, ate it up like he was the most fascinating person in existence.

  At this point, they might as well just get married if they were going to be so close all the time.

  Ember didn’t say that, of course. But the thought repeated itself in her mind like a curse.

  Every time Elena smiled at Kaelen—Marry him already.

  Every time she asked another question—Go ahead, tie the knot.

  Every time Kaelen oh-so-graciously answered—Why not invite me to the wedding while you're at it?

  By the time Kaelen finally brought them to their room, Ember felt like a century had passed.

  The space was small but comfortable. The walls were made of woven wood and reinforced with thick vines, the scent of fresh greenery hanging in the air. There were two simple beds, side by side, covered in thick, handmade blankets. A small table stood against the wall, and there was even a modest bathing area sectioned off with fabric.

  Kaelen turned to them with that ever-present, smug ease.

  “This will be your space for now,” he said. “It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s safe, warm, and private.”

  Elena beamed. “It’s perfect! Thank you, Kaelen.”

  Ember almost rolled her eyes.

  Kaelen smirked. “Glad you think so.”

  He gave a slight nod before turning to leave. “Well, I’ll let you two settle in. If you need anything, just ask.”

  The moment he was out of sight, Ember shut the door a little too forcefully.

  She turned, exhaling sharply.

  Elena, completely oblivious to her growing frustration, twirled in place, taking in their new surroundings. “This is actually really nice,” she said, placing her small bag down. “I wasn’t expecting—”

  Ember didn’t listen.

  She was already rummaging through her own things, unpacking with quick, sharp movements.

  Elena, catching on to her silence, turned. “…Ember?”

  No response.

  Ember grabbed her towel and clothes and stalked toward the bathing area without a word.

  Elena frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Ember muttered.

  And before Elena could say anything else, she disappeared behind the fabric divider.

  The water was refreshingly cool, but it did nothing to ease the heat in Ember’s chest.

  What is wrong with me?

  She scrubbed her arms with more force than necessary, staring down at the water pooling at her feet.

  It wasn’t just annoyance. It wasn’t just frustration.

  It was something else. Something stupid.

  Every time Kaelen looked at Elena. Every time Elena looked back at him. Every time they talked, smiled, exchanged words like they had always known each other—

  It made her angry.

  Which was ridiculous.

  I don’t care.

  She turned off the water, wrapping herself in a towel.

  I don’t.

  When she stepped back into the room, she found Elena struggling to unpack her bag. Normally, Ember would have helped without hesitation—picking up whatever spilled, organizing things alongside her.

  But this time?

  She walked straight to her bed and sat down.

  Elena paused. “Ember?”

  She said nothing.

  The sound of shifting fabric filled the silence as Elena hesitated before going back to unpacking on her own.

  The next few minutes passed in unbearable stillness.

  Elena, growing more confused by the second, finally worked up the courage to ask, “…Did I do something wrong?”

  Ember stiffened.

  Elena turned to face her, sitting on the edge of her own bed now, fingers twisted in her lap. “You’ve been acting strange since Kaelen showed us around.”

  Ember scoffed lightly, running a hand through her damp hair. “Oh? Now you notice?”

  Elena frowned. “I did notice. That’s why I’m asking.”

  Ember sighed, lying back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

  A pause.

  Elena’s voice softened. “Ember, if I upset you somehow… I didn’t mean to.”

  That should have made Ember feel bad.

  But instead, it just made her feel worse.

  Because Elena didn’t know.

  And Ember wasn’t about to explain it.

  So instead, she turned onto her side, away from Elena, and muttered, “I’m going to sleep.”

  Elena hesitated. “…Oh.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Then—quietly, almost too softly to hear—

  “Goodnight, Ember.”

  Ember squeezed her eyes shut.

  She didn’t respond.

  Sleep did not come.

  Ember lay on her side, eyes open, staring at the wooden walls of their small room, listening to Elena’s soft, steady breathing.

  She should not be acting like this.

  She felt like a complete idiot—because she was one.

  This whole thing—the silence, the avoidance, the unnecessary frustration—was ridiculous. Childish.

  Elena wasn’t hers.

  She never had been.

  They were friends. That was all they had ever been.

  If Elena found someone she loved—whether it was Kaelen or anyone else—then that was simply how things would be.

  And Ember would… accept it.

  She had to.

  She was an Iorph, born from the Orion tribe. She was strong. Disciplined. The best of the best.

  And yet, she had spent the entire night sulking like a fool.

  Enough.

  Ember exhaled slowly, waiting. She listened carefully for the rhythm of Elena’s breath, making sure she was asleep.

  Then, as quietly as she could, she rose from her bed and slipped outside.

  The Nest was silent under the night sky, bathed in silver light. The dense canopy above only allowed glimpses of the heavens—dark blue and vast, with drifting creatures glowing faintly in the distance.

  Ember walked a little further, past the edges of the camp, until she reached a small clearing where the trees thinned just enough to give her a better view.

  She laid down on the grass, hands resting behind her head, watching the floating creatures above.

  Some of them were Eldari.

  A small, nostalgic smile played at her lips.

  She remembered the first time she and Elena had gone to see them together, traveling to a lake hidden deep within Iorph’s territory.

  Elena had been so excited, running ahead, practically dragging Ember along—

  A twig snapped.

  Ember’s body tensed. In an instant, she was on her feet, hand resting on her weapon.

  Then, she saw who it was.

  Kaelen.

  His expression was unreadable, but there was a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

  “You must be thinking about Lena,” he said.

  The nickname made Ember’s chest tighten.

  She hated it. That was her name for Elena. Not his.

  Her grip on her weapon tightened, but she forced her voice to stay level.

  “Go away,” she muttered. “I want to be alone.”

  Kaelen didn’t budge.

  Instead, he sat down right where he stood, stretching his legs out as if they were nothing more than old friends having a casual conversation.

  “Sit,” he said, motioning to the spot beside him.

  Ember glared. “I said I want to be alone.”

  “And yet,” Kaelen mused, “you’re still standing here, talking to me.”

  Ember scowled. But after a long, frustrated sigh, she dropped back onto the grass, arms crossed, her mood sour.

  Kaelen chuckled. “That’s better.”

  For a while, they just sat there, staring up at the sky.

  Then, Kaelen broke the silence.

  “You know,” he began, “our people don’t stay in one place for long.”

  Ember frowned. “Obviously.”

  Kaelen ignored her tone. “We move because we believe strength comes from learning to let go. No matter how much you love a place… or a person… eventually, you have to leave them behind.”

  Ember turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Kaelen smiled slightly, but there was something deeper behind his gaze.

  “Because our true home,” he said, “is not a place. It’s the people we walk beside.”

  His words settled into Ember’s mind like an unwanted truth.

  She didn’t respond.

  Kaelen let out a quiet breath, then looked at her more directly.

  “I know how much you like Elena.”

  Ember’s entire body went rigid.

  Kaelen smirked. “I saw the way you were looking at her before the lizardmen attacked. And how you’ve been glaring at me all day.”

  “I don’t—” Ember’s voice cracked before she could finish the sentence.

  Kaelen just raised an eyebrow.

  “…I don’t like her like that.”

  He hummed, unconvinced.

  Ember looked away, crossing her arms tightly.

  “I just…” She clenched her jaw. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

  Kaelen nodded. “That’s fair. But tell me—do you feel that way about everyone?”

  Ember didn’t answer.

  Kaelen exhaled a quiet laugh. “I’m not trying to pry. Just… understand.”

  Another silence.

  Then, in a softer tone, he added, “I see Elena as a little sister, that’s all. I just want her—and you—to be happy.”

  Ember felt something in her chest loosen.

  It was strange.

  She hadn’t even realized how tense she had been until that moment.

  “…Oh,” she muttered.

  Kaelen grinned. “Oh?”

  Ember scowled at him, her face burning.

  Kaelen chuckled again, pushing himself up to stand. “Well, I’ve said what I wanted to say. I’ll leave you to… whatever it was you were doing.”

  He turned to leave, but paused.

  Then, with a teasing smile, he added, “Goodnight, Ember.”

  Ember just grumbled, refusing to look at him.

  Kaelen laughed under his breath and disappeared back toward the Nest.

  Ember lay back down, staring at the sky once more.

  Her heart felt lighter.

  She sighed.

  Ember remained on the grass for a long while, gazing at the sky, Kaelen’s words echoing in her mind.

  "No matter how much you love a place… or a person… eventually, you have to leave them behind."

  She exhaled slowly, shifting her arms behind her head. Letting go… Wasn’t that something she had always been taught?

  The Orion tribe was strong. She was strong. But at that moment, the idea of leaving anything behind felt unbearable.

  She thought of Iorph. The forests that never changed, the silver rivers that shimmered under the sun, the way the wind always carried the sound of music. Her people had no need for cleks, no need for anything but what the land gave them. Life was simple. Peaceful. It was home.

  And yet… she had left it behind.

  For Elena.

  The thought settled into her chest like a quiet truth. No matter what she told herself, she hadn’t left Iorph because of curiosity. She had left because of her.

  With a sigh, she pushed herself up and dusted off her clothes.

  She should get back.

  The Nest was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of nocturnal creatures stirring in the shadows. Ember moved silently, her steps careful as she reached the small dwelling Kaelen had given them.

  The door creaked slightly as she pushed it open.

  Inside, the air was warmer, filled with the soft scent of wood and dried herbs. The dim moonlight seeped through the cracks in the walls, casting faint, silver lines across the floor.

  Elena was still curled up in bed, buried under the thin blankets, her hair sprawled across the pillow in unruly waves. Her face was peaceful, relaxed in sleep, her lips slightly parted.

  Then—

  A quiet mumble.

  Ember paused, ears straining.

  “…Ania…”

  Elena shifted slightly, her brows furrowing, before letting out another barely coherent mumble.

  “…Ember… such a bully…”

  Ember blinked.

  Then, before she could stop it, a small, amused smile crossed her lips.

  Even in her dreams, she’s complaining about me.

  She shook her head, stepping closer, her arms folded as she looked down at Elena’s sleeping form.

  The moonlight caught the soft curve of Elena’s cheek, the faint rise and fall of her chest. There was something about seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so at ease—that made Ember feel… tender.

  A warmth settled in her chest.

  She reached out, hesitated, then carefully brushed a strand of hair from Elena’s face.

  Her fingertips barely skimmed her skin, but even that brief touch felt like something she shouldn’t be allowed to do.

  Her throat tightened.

  She whispered, more to herself than anyone else—

  “You look beautiful like this.”

  Elena let out another quiet sigh, turning slightly in her sleep.

  Ember quickly withdrew her hand, feeling an unfamiliar heat rise to her face.

  Shaking her head, she exhaled and stepped away.

  She was exhausted.

  Letting out a long yawn, she climbed into her own bed, adjusting the covers around her before sinking into the mattress.

  For the first time that night, her mind wasn’t buzzing with thoughts of jealousy or frustration.

  Instead, she just lay there, watching Elena breathe, the rhythm slow and steady.

  And then—

  Finally—

  Sleep took her.