Elena stirred, her mind caught between the last wisps of sleep and the sounds of the waking world around her. A deep, melodic call echoed through the cavern—low and resonant, like a song carried through water.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. The cave ceiling above was bathed in the dim, silvery glow of the morning light filtering through small openings. The air smelled of damp stone and earth, and in the distance, she could hear the Aelyrs moving—soft footsteps, the rustling of supplies, quiet voices murmuring to one another.

  Woofy.

  Elena turned her head just in time to hear another call, a long, deep vibration that sent a ripple through the cave floor beneath her. She blinked groggily, pushing herself up on her elbows.

  The Aelyrs were gathering their things, their silhouettes moving through the soft light like wraiths. Even without asking, she knew. They had arrived.

  She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before shifting her gaze downward.

  Ember was still asleep beside her, lying on her back with one arm draped lazily over her stomach. Her red hair was a tangled mess, strands falling over her face, and her lips were parted slightly in deep slumber. Elena watched her for a moment, taking in the rare sight. Ember always seemed so alive—so full of fire and movement—but here, in the quiet of morning, she looked… peaceful.

  Elena glanced at the entrance of the cave, the light growing stronger, signaling the start of a new day. She hesitated for only a second before reaching out and shaking Ember’s shoulder.

  “Ember,” she whispered.

  Ember groaned, shifting slightly, but didn’t wake.

  “Ember,” Elena said again, firmer this time.

  A muffled sound of protest left Ember’s lips as she turned her head away. “Mmm… five more minutes.”

  Elena rolled her eyes. “No. Now.”

  Ember peeked at her through half-lidded eyes, groggy and disoriented. Then, as if realizing something, she jolted upright. “Wait—what? Where are we?”

  Elena huffed. “We’ve arrived, apparently. Everyone’s already awake.”

  Ember blinked, then let out a small groan before rubbing the sleep from her face. “Great. First thing in the morning, and we’re already on the move.”

  Elena stood, stretching her stiff limbs. As she did, she glanced around, her brow furrowing.

  “…Wait,” she muttered, looking down at the makeshift bedding. “I wasn’t sleeping here before.”

  Ember, now shoving their belongings into her pack, barely glanced at her. “Huh?”

  Elena frowned. “I remember lying being outside. But I woke up in the cave.”

  Ember shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Elena narrowed her eyes at her. “…Did you move me?”

  Ember’s movements were too quick—too nonchalant. “Why would I do that?”

  Elena folded her arms. “Because I was on the ground. And now I’m not.”

  Ember didn’t look at her. “Weird, huh?”

  Elena stared at her for a long moment. Ember was many things—bold, reckless, loud—but a good liar? Not so much.

  A knowing smirk pulled at Elena’s lips.

  “Hmm,” she hummed. “Strange, indeed.”

  Ember shot her a warning glance, as if daring her to push further.

  Elena, deciding to have mercy—for now—simply turned toward the entrance. “Come on. Let’s see where we are.”

  The air was thick with moisture as Elena stepped out of the cave, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The moment she did, her nose wrinkled.

  Water. Stagnant, humid, and heavy.

  A swamp.

  Her stomach twisted at the realization.

  The ground was uneven, covered in patches of moss and twisted roots, while shallow pools of murky water stretched in every direction. Strange, towering trees grew from the water, their gnarled branches wrapped in hanging vines that dripped with condensation. The air buzzed with the distant hum of unseen creatures, and the faint croaks of something… alive echoed through the thick mist.

  Elena grimaced. She didn’t like this.

  The Aelyrs, however, had already begun to move, their figures weaving effortlessly through the terrain. Unlike her, they didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the dampness—if anything, they looked at ease. It made sense. They were used to all kinds of environment.

  A long, deep splash suddenly caught Elena’s attention.

  Her body tensed, her eyes darting toward the source of the sound.

  In the distance, near one of the larger pools, she spotted Freya. She stood near the edge of the water, speaking softly to Woofy, her voice barely audible over the noise of the swamp.

  But it wasn’t what she was saying that caught Elena’s attention.

  It was the name.

  She had expected to hear ‘Woofy’—the name Ember had so proudly bestowed upon their enormous companion.

  But Freya had called it something else.

  A name. A real name.

  Elena narrowed her eyes, stepping closer, straining her ears to listen.

  Before she could catch another word, another loud splash sounded, this time much closer.

  Elena stiffened.

  She looked down.

  The ground beneath her feet was wet—sinking.

  A sinking ground meant more water.

  Water meant—

  She inhaled sharply, her body recoiling as she quickly stepped back, her boot landing in an even deeper puddle with a wet squelch.

  A shudder ran down her spine.

  Great. Just great.

  She looked down at her now-soaked boot, then at the murky water all around her.

  She didn’t like getting her feet wet.

  At all.

  Ember finally stepped out of the cave behind her, taking in the scene with a deep breath. “Ahhh. Smells like home, doesn’t it?”

  Elena shot her a flat look. “You’re enjoying this.”

  Ember smirked. “A little.”

  Elena exhaled sharply, shaking her foot in a vain attempt to dry it. “If we’re staying here, I need something other than these boots.”

  Ember snickered, stepping past her with ease, seemingly unbothered by the terrain. “What’s wrong, princess? Afraid of getting a little dirty?”

  Elena groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  Woofy let out a final, low rumble—a sound that echoed through the swamp like the last note of a song. The water beneath him rippled as he shifted his massive body, his long, sleek form gliding above the dark pools with unnatural grace.

  Then, with a powerful stroke of his wings, he lifted off.

  Elena watched as he rose into the misty sky, his vast silhouette darkening against the pale light. She felt the wind from his departure brush against her skin, damp and cool, carrying the scent of wet earth and strange flora.

  “Goodbye, Woofy,” she muttered under her breath, watching as he disappeared beyond the treetops.

  A voice beside her scoffed.

  “You really thought that was his name?”

  Elena turned her head to see Freya standing nearby, arms crossed, amusement flickering in her eyes.

  Elena raised an eyebrow. “That’s what Ember calls him.”

  Freya smirked. “Ember calls everything ridiculous names.”

  “…And what is his real name, then?”

  Freya’s gaze followed the beast’s fading form before she finally answered.

  “Vaelyssir.”

  Elena blinked.

  The name was ancient—weighted with something deeper than just a title. It felt like it belonged to a being who had existed long before she had even stepped foot in this world.

  She let the name roll in her mind for a moment before muttering, “Vaelyssir… Ember’s not going to like that.”

  Freya let out a low chuckle. “She’s going to ignore it completely.”

  Elena sighed, already anticipating the argument that would follow if she dared to correct Ember.

  But before she could dwell on it, Freya’s voice turned serious.

  “Come on. We have a meeting to attend.”

  The Aelyrs had gathered in a clearing, the damp earth beneath them still soft from recent rain. Freya stood at the center, a quiet authority in the way she carried herself.

  “Now that we’ve settled in, we need to organize ourselves,” she began, her voice carrying through the space. “We can’t rely on Vaelyssir forever. We need food, proper shelter, and a way to defend ourselves if necessary.”

  Elena listened intently as Freya listed off the responsibilities, dividing the Aelyrs into teams.

  “We’ll have two main teams. One for gathering food and supplies from the surrounding area,” Freya said, looking around. “And another for constructing shelters.”

  Elena exhaled, already expecting where she would be placed.

  Freya continued, “Elena, you’ll be on the foraging team. You’ll be heading out to search for food.”

  Elena nodded. That seemed reasonable enough.

  But then—

  “Ember, you’ll be staying behind to assist with building the huts.”

  A pause.

  Elena didn’t need to turn her head to know Ember’s expression had just darkened.

  “Wait,” Ember said, her voice sharp. “You want her—” she jabbed a finger in Elena’s direction, “—to go out there and me to stay here?”

  Freya barely looked up from her notes. “That’s correct.”

  Ember let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “Yeah, no. That’s a terrible idea.”

  Freya finally lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable. “And why is that?”

  Ember gestured dramatically toward Elena. “Because she’s weak.”

  Elena’s head snapped toward her.

  “I am not weak.”

  Ember ignored her, continuing. “She can’t even stand the swamp. She’s going to step in the mud once and cry about it for the rest of the day.”

  Elena’s face heated. “I can handle it.”

  Ember turned to her, arms crossed. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do if you get stuck in quicksand?”

  Elena scoffed. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “What if you get attacked by something?”

  “I can fight.”

  Ember let out a dry laugh. “With what?”

  Elena clenched her fists. “I have a knife.”

  “Oh, wow,” Ember mocked. “A knife. That’ll totally help when something three times your size decides to make you its next meal.”

  Elena’s glare was sharp enough to cut stone. “I am not helpless, Ember.”

  Ember scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “You’re going to slow them down. You’re better off staying here where you won’t be a liability.”

  Elena’s breath hitched.

  A liability.

  Something about the way she said it—so casual, so certain—hit a nerve.

  Her fingers curled tighter.

  “I don’t need you deciding what I can and can’t do.”

  “Well, someone has to,” Ember shot back. “Because you sure as hell don’t know your limits.”

  Elena gritted her teeth.

  There was a silence—thick and charged.

  Then, finally, she lifted her chin and said coldly, “I’m not talking to you.”

  Ember exhaled sharply through her nose, turning away as if to say, Fine by me.

  Freya, having watched the entire argument unfold with thinly veiled amusement, finally spoke up.

  “Now that that’s settled,” she said dryly, “let’s get to work.”

  Elena walked alongside Kaelen, her arms crossed and her expression sour as they trudged through the swamp.

  “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

  Kaelen, ever patient, hummed in response. “Because you’re out here?”

  Elena huffed. “Because Ember’s being an idiot.”

  Kaelen raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

  “She thinks I can’t handle myself,” Elena went on, kicking at a loose vine in frustration. “Just because she’s stronger doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

  Kaelen exhaled through his nose. “She worries about you.”

  Elena rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t worry. She just thinks she knows everything.”

  Kaelen gave her a sideways glance. “Maybe. But she wouldn’t argue that hard if she didn’t care.”

  Elena scoffed. “Well, if she cared so much, she’d trust me.”

  Kaelen said nothing.

  The swamp gurgled around them as they pressed on.

  Meanwhile, back at the camp, Ember was taking out her frustration on the forest itself.

  With a single swipe of her hand, a section of thick vines snapped apart, falling into a pile at her feet.

  She stomped toward another area, slamming her foot down to carve a hole into the earth—perhaps a bit too aggressively.

  Nearby, Maia and Freya’s young son watched, wide-eyed.

  “Um,” Maia began hesitantly, “you seem… upset.”

  Ember barked out a dry laugh. “Upset? Nah. I’m great.”

  The kid tilted his head. “But you’re cutting trees like you’re mad at them.”

  Ember sighed, running a hand through her hair.

  “…I just wanted to help,” she muttered, almost to herself.

  Maia frowned. “And Elena didn’t like that?”

  Ember shook her head. “Apparently not.”

  She turned back to the task at hand, exhaling sharply. “Fine. If she doesn’t appreciate it, then so be it.”

  She slammed her foot down again, another section of land breaking apart.

  Maia and the boy exchanged glances.

  “…I think she’s really mad,” the kid whispered.

  Maia sighed. “Yeah. I think so too.”

  The night stretched long, shadows shifting under the eerie glow of the bioluminescent fungi clinging to the trees. The swamp pulsed with life—the croaking of hidden creatures, the occasional splash of something unseen moving in the murky water. The air was damp and thick, clinging to Ember’s skin, but she barely noticed.

  She was staring at the darkened path where Elena’s team had disappeared hours ago.

  They were late.

  Too late.

  She sat on a large, half-carved log, her fingers tapping against her knee, foot bouncing with restless energy. She had told Freya it was a bad idea. She had argued that Elena wasn’t suited for this kind of thing. And now—now they were late.

  Which meant something had gone wrong.

  Her hands curled into fists, nails pressing into her palms.

  Maybe she got stuck somewhere. Maybe she tripped and hurt herself. Maybe she—

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  Ember exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. No. She wasn’t going to panic.

  A small tug on her sleeve made her glance to the side.

  Raellin, Freya and Maia’s son, was looking up at her with curious golden eyes. “You’re upset,” he stated simply.

  Ember frowned. “No, I’m annoyed.”

  Raellin tilted his head. “You keep looking at the path.”

  “That’s because they’re late.”

  “And you’re worried.”

  “I’m not—” Ember exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You’re a lot like your mom, you know that?”

  Raellin only hummed as if he knew he was right.

  Before Ember could say anything else, a faint rustling reached her ears.

  She stiffened.

  Her head snapped up, eyes locked on the path as figures began to emerge from the darkness.

  They were back.

  She shot to her feet, scanning the returning group, her stomach twisting.

  Were they all there? Was anyone limping? Was anyone—

  And then she saw her.

  Elena.

  At the front.

  Her red hair was slightly messy, her boots coated in swamp mud, but her usual unimpressed expression remained as she slung her satchel over her shoulder.

  She wasn’t hurt.

  Ember exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly in relief—but before she could say anything, the group erupted into excited chatter.

  “We found so much.”

  “It was all safe to eat, thanks to Elena.”

  “She knew exactly what to pick and what to avoid.”

  Sacks and baskets were set down, filled with more food than Ember thought possible to find in a place like this.

  “Seriously,” one of the Aeylr men laughed, clapping Elena on the back. “If it weren’t for her, we’d probably be dead by now. Who knew she was so useful?”

  The words useful, smart, helpful were thrown around so casually, and Ember felt something sink inside her.

  The Aeylr were praising her. Elena.

  The same Elena Ember had argued with earlier. The same Elena she had tried to protect because she thought she wasn’t suited for this.

  She had been wrong.

  Completely, utterly wrong.

  She had underestimated her. Again.

  The realization left a strange, hollow ache in Ember’s chest.

  She crossed her arms, looking away as the group continued to celebrate Elena’s success.

  “Go on, take some,” someone offered, pushing a handful of fruit toward her.

  Ember’s jaw tightened.

  She didn’t take it.

  Couldn’t take it.

  Her own pride kept her from reaching out, from admitting that she had made the wrong call.

  Instead, she muttered, “I’m not hungry,” and walked off.

  But as she turned, she caught sight of Elena—her tired but satisfied expression, the way she laughed as Kaelen nudged her playfully.

  It burned.

  It burned in a way she didn’t understand.

  Because she should have been happy. Elena was safe. She had proved herself. That should have been a good thing.

  So why did Ember feel like crying?

  The night was thick with the scent of damp earth and swamp water, the air heavy and cool against Ember’s skin. She sat perched on the thick branch of a gnarled old tree, one leg dangling, the other bent close to her chest. The glow of the bioluminescent fungi cast pale light over the still water below, their reflections rippling with every pebble she threw in.

  Plunk.

  The sound was swallowed by the swamp. The water barely stirred.

  Ember exhaled, rolling another small stone between her fingers. She had been out here for hours, letting the world blur into the rhythmic toss of rocks, the occasional chirp of unseen creatures, and the ceaseless buzz of her own thoughts.

  She should go back.

  Elena would notice she wasn’t there.

  Would she care?

  She let the stone slip from her fingers. Plunk.

  Elena had been surrounded by the Aeylr, talking, laughing, accepting their praise without hesitation. She had been fine. More than fine. She had proved she didn’t need Ember hovering over her like some overprotective fool.

  And yet…

  Ember clenched her jaw.

  She had hated watching it.

  Watching Elena shine under their approval. Watching her be celebrated for something Ember had been so sure she couldn’t do. Watching her fit in, as if she had belonged with them all along.

  She should be happy. Should be relieved.

  So why did it feel like something inside her was twisting?

  She reached up, fingers grazing the faintly glowing mark on her shoulder—her sigil.

  The symbol of her tribe. The symbol of what she was.

  Orion. The hunters. The ones who watched from the shadows, who moved unseen, who never let their prey slip away.

  It was in her blood to protect what was hers. To hold on tightly.

  But was Elena ever hers to begin with?

  She frowned, rubbing her thumb over the carved pattern of the sigil, as if the answers would somehow bleed from it.

  Maybe she was being selfish.

  Maybe all of this—the frustration, the bitterness, the ache in her chest—was just her wanting Elena all to herself.

  Maybe she didn’t want anyone else seeing how brilliant she was.

  Did that make her a terrible person?

  She let out a slow breath, tilting her head back against the rough bark of the tree, eyes tracing the stars barely visible beyond the thick canopy.

  What is wrong with me?

  She had never felt this way before. This… gnawing. This strange, possessive pull, like the more Elena slipped through her fingers, the more she wanted to hold on.

  She shut her eyes, gripping the fabric over her sigil.

  Maybe tomorrow, she’d go back. Maybe tomorrow, she’d pretend none of this was bothering her.

  Maybe tomorrow, she’d be fine.

  But tonight—

  She picked up another stone.

  Plunk.

  —she wasn’t.

  The hut was quiet. Unbearably so.

  Elena sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting the fabric of the blanket as she stared at the empty space beside her.

  Ember wasn’t here.

  She should’ve been here.

  The night was well into its coldest hours, and yet she hadn’t returned.

  Elena’s hands curled into the blanket. She had been waiting—eyes darting toward the entrance at every sound, hoping, expecting Ember to finally walk in with that same infuriatingly confident look on her face, maybe muttering something like “Took a while to cool off, that’s all.” But the door never moved.

  And now, the silence was pressing down on her.

  Elena exhaled, burying her face into her hands.

  She had been too harsh.

  Yes, she hated being treated like she was weak. Yes, she had wanted to prove she could handle herself. But had Ember really deserved her anger for that?

  No.

  Ember had always been the one standing between her and danger. She had been the one who watched Elena’s back without fail, who shielded her even when Elena never asked for it.

  Maybe… Maybe Ember just didn’t know how to stop protecting her.

  And instead of trying to understand, Elena had lashed out.

  She pressed her fingers against her temples, squeezing her eyes shut.

  She should’ve reassured Ember instead. Told her that she didn’t have to carry everything alone. That Elena wasn’t running from her—just trying to walk beside her.

  Instead, she had pushed her away.

  And now she was gone.

  Elena laid down, curling on her side. The bed felt too big. Too empty.

  It was made for two people, after all.

  A bitter laugh almost escaped her.

  How ridiculous, to realize it now—how much she had already grown used to Ember’s presence.

  Her warmth.

  Her closeness.

  Elena clenched her jaw, pressing her face into the pillow.

  She wasn’t going to cry.

  She wasn’t.

  But when the cold air bit at her skin, when the weight of her own regret pressed down on her chest, the first muffled sob slipped through her lips before she could stop it.

  And then another.

  And another.

  She curled up tighter, gripping the blanket, trying to force herself into sleep.

  Maybe Ember would be back in the morning.

  Maybe everything would be okay.

  But right now—

  She pressed her forehead against the pillow, swallowing down the ache in her throat.

  The morning light painted the village in hues of gold, casting long shadows as the Aelyr gathered once again. Freya stood at the center, her voice calm yet commanding as she spoke to her people.

  "We will remain here for another five days," she announced, her gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd. "By then, our settlement should be stable enough to sustain itself. There is still work to be done, so I expect everyone to continue with their tasks as usual."

  Ember was standing off to the side, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

  Elena was there too, but her eyes kept flickering toward Ember—searching, waiting for some kind of glance, some kind of acknowledgment.

  Nothing.

  Ember never looked her way.

  Instead, she nodded along to Freya’s words, her focus seemingly unshaken. And when the gathering dispersed, she turned on her heel, walking straight toward the workstations without a word.

  Elena watched her go, something heavy pressing against her chest.

  She could still hear Ember’s voice in her head from the night before, sharp with frustration, laced with something she couldn’t quite name.

  "You think you can just do everything on your own, huh? Fine. Do whatever you want, then."

  Elena swallowed hard before sighing and heading after her own team.

  The air was thick with the scent of damp earth as Elena trudged through the swamp alongside Kaelen and the others, her boots sinking slightly with every step.

  She had been trying to focus on gathering food, really.

  But instead, she kept venting.

  "And she just stood there, Kaelen. Didn’t even look at me! Like I wasn’t even there!" Elena huffed, adjusting the basket in her arms. "I mean, I get it. She’s mad. But does she have to be so dramatic about it?"

  Kaelen sighed, half-listening as he reached for a bundle of moss-covered fruit. "You did kind of snap at her."

  "I had to!" Elena threw up her hands. "She treats me like I’m helpless, like I can’t do anything without her hovering over me! And now she’s—"

  Her words cut off at the sound of rustling nearby.

  Elena turned sharply, her fingers tightening around the basket—only for her frustration to vanish in an instant.

  A familiar serpentine figure slithered out from behind a twisted root, its small black eyes blinking up at her.

  "Snacks!"

  Elena’s face lit up, and she nearly dropped her basket as she rushed forward, scooping up the little snake into her arms.

  Snacks flicked his tongue, winding himself around her wrist before curling up against her neck, the cold scales sending a shiver down her spine.

  "You little traitor! You ran off the second we got to that lizardman village!" Elena scolded him, but her voice was filled with fondness.

  Kaelen glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "You named it?"

  "Of course I did," Elena said, scratching under Snacks’ chin as he let out a soft, contented hiss. "And it looks like he missed me."

  Snacks didn’t protest, simply tightening his coil around her wrist.

  Kaelen rolled his eyes, amused. "Well, at least someone’s happy to see you."

  Elena exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Meanwhile, on the other side of the settlement, Ember was busy proving herself in an entirely different way.

  Sweat dripped from her brow as she locked hands with yet another Aelyr, muscles tensed as they engaged in yet another arm-wrestling match.

  "Ready?" one of the spectators called.

  Ember’s opponent, a burly Aelyr warrior, smirked. "You sure you don’t wanna sit this one out, little hunter?"

  Ember’s lips curled into a grin. "Worried you’ll lose?"

  The match started.

  For a moment, it seemed even.

  Then Ember slammed his hand against the makeshift table with enough force to rattle the wooden planks.

  A chorus of cheers and laughter erupted around her.

  The Aelyr had been wary of her at first, but now they were warming up to her—especially after she had beaten nearly every one of them in feats of strength.

  "You’re a monster," one of them laughed, clapping her on the back.

  Ember shrugged, wiping her hands on her pants. "Guess I am built different."

  Raellin, Freya and Maia’s son, stood by watching her with wide eyes. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

  Ember chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Maybe when you’re a bit older, kid."

  For a while, she was distracted.

  For a while, it was easy to ignore the tight knot in her chest, the way her thoughts kept drifting back to Elena—

  Elena, who was probably laughing with Kaelen right now, acting like nothing was wrong.

  Ember clenched her fists.

  Fine. If she wanted to act like that, then Ember would, too.

  By the time Elena got back, the hut was dimly lit by the last traces of daylight, the scent of damp wood filling the air.

  And Ember was already there.

  She had just stepped out of the small washing area, her hair damp, droplets of water trailing down her arms as she ran a cloth through her soaked strands.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  Elena froze in the doorway, her heart skipping an unexpected beat at the sight of her.

  The soft glow of the lanterns cast long shadows across Ember’s face, her red hair darker from the water, clinging slightly to her skin.

  And Ember… she had been staring at her, too.

  But the second their gazes met—

  She looked away.

  Elena hesitated before stepping inside, closing the door behind her. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, but neither of them dared to be the first to break the silence.

  Instead, Ember finished drying her hair, tossing the cloth aside as she turned away.

  Elena watched her, her lips parting—

  Then closing again.

  She wanted to say something.

  Should say something.

  But instead, she just sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting Snacks slither down onto her lap.

  The silence stretched between them, neither one willing to cross the invisible line they had drawn between each other.

  And for the first time, their shared space felt like two separate worlds.

  The room was dimly lit, shadows flickering along the wooden walls as the soft hum of the swamp filled the silence. The air between them was thick—heavy with something neither wanted to name.

  Elena sat cross-legged on the bed, absentmindedly running her fingers along Snacks’ scales as she fed him small pieces of dried fruit. Every now and then, she glanced at Ember.

  Ember had laid down on her side of the bed without saying a single word.

  Her back was turned, her breathing steady, but Elena knew she wasn’t asleep.

  She was pretending.

  Elena let out a small sigh, shifting slightly. "Really?" she muttered under her breath.

  No response.

  She reached over, gently nudging Ember’s back with her foot. "You know, ignoring me isn’t very mature of you."

  Still nothing.

  Snacks flicked his tongue, sensing her frustration. Elena sighed again, setting him down on the small wooden crate beside the bed. She sat there for a moment, just staring at Ember’s unmoving form, before scooting closer.

  "Are you seriously just gonna sleep? We’re just not gonna talk?" she pressed, inching forward.

  Nothing.

  Elena pursed her lips. Fine. If Ember wanted to play this game, she would win.

  She reached over and poked Ember’s shoulder. Then again. And again.

  Still no response.

  She poked harder.

  "Stop," Ember muttered, voice muffled against the blanket.

  Elena smirked. "Oh? So you are awake."

  Ember let out a long, frustrated sigh but didn’t turn around.

  Elena grinned slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in her chest. "You know, Snacks really missed you," she mused, lifting the little snake and placing him gently on Ember’s back.

  Ember immediately tensed.

  Elena grinned. "He wanted to cuddle with you."

  There was a long pause before Ember muttered, "Get it off."

  Elena feigned innocence. "But why? He likes you! Maybe if you stop being so cold, you’ll—"

  Ember sat up abruptly, flicking Snacks off with a swift motion. "I said, get it off."

  The sharpness in her voice made Elena flinch.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. Ember lay back down with her back still facing Elena, sighing heavily.

  Elena’s expression softened. "Come on," she tried again, shifting closer. "Are you really that mad? I mean, we both said some stuff we didn’t mean."

  Ember didn’t respond.

  Elena frowned, thinking. Then, suddenly, an idea struck her.

  With a smirk, she flopped onto the bed and slid under the blankets, pressing herself against Ember’s back.

  Ember immediately stiffened. "What are you doing?" she asked, voice tight.

  Elena hummed, wrapping her arms around Ember’s waist. "Taking my warmth back."

  "Get off," Ember muttered.

  Elena grinned against her shoulder. "Nope."

  "Elena."

  "Ember."

  There was a pause.

  Then, in a tone completely devoid of amusement, Ember repeated, "Get. Off."

  Elena only snuggled closer. "Mmm… nope. You’re warm. I missed my warm blanket."

  Ember let out a sharp breath. "Go make Kaelen your warm blanket, then."

  Elena blinked. "What?"

  "You heard me." Ember’s voice was cold. "Go cuddle him. You two seem close enough anyway."

  Elena frowned. "That’s what this is about? You’re jealous?"

  "I don’t care."

  "Sure sounds like you do."

  "I don’t."

  Elena groaned, resting her forehead against Ember’s back. "Why are you being so difficult?"

  Ember didn’t answer.

  Elena sighed. She tried a few more things.

  She nudged Ember playfully. No reaction.

  She offered to tell her a funny story. Ember ignored her.

  She even tried tickling her side—something that always got a reaction.

  Ember physically grabbed her wrist and removed her hand.

  "Elena, enough."

  The amusement drained from Elena’s face.

  She stared at Ember’s back, at the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture. This wasn’t just stubbornness.

  This was hurt.

  Elena swallowed, realizing how much she had been trying to push this aside—how much she had ignored what this really was.

  She exhaled slowly. "…I’m sorry."

  The air in the room shifted.

  Ember didn’t move.

  Didn’t speak.

  But Elena felt it—the way the words settled between them like a heavy stone in water.

  "I didn’t mean what I said back there," Elena continued quietly. "I just… I got frustrated. And I was wrong to snap at you like that."

  She paused, waiting, but Ember remained silent.

  Elena’s voice grew softer. "You’ve always looked out for me. Always tried to keep me safe. And I know that’s just who you are. I should’ve appreciated that instead of acting like it didn’t matter."

  A long silence.

  Then, barely above a whisper—

  "I just wanted to help you," Ember murmured.

  Elena’s chest tightened. "I know."

  Another pause.

  Then, with a quiet breath, Ember finally turned—just slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet in the dim light.

  And in that moment, Elena saw it.

  Not anger. Not frustration.

  Just hurt.

  Elena swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don’t want to fight anymore."

  Ember studied her for a long time, her red eyes flickering with something unreadable.

  Then, finally, she exhaled.

  "Neither do I."

  Ember let out a long sigh, her shoulders rising and falling in slow resignation. For a moment, she just lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, before she finally spoke.

  "I shouldn’t have been like that," she murmured, voice quieter than before. "I shouldn’t have acted like you couldn’t handle yourself."

  Elena blinked at her, processing the sudden apology.

  "I was wrong," Ember admitted, still not looking at her. "You are capable. More than I thought. I should’ve trusted you."

  A small, surprised silence stretched between them.

  Then, just as Elena’s expression softened, Ember turned her back to her again. "But you should still go cuddle with Kaelen," she muttered, pulling the blanket up slightly. "Since you like him so much."

  Elena’s eyes widened. "What?"

  "You heard me."

  "What does Kaelen have to do with this?"

  Ember scoffed. "Oh, please, Elena. Don’t act like I haven’t seen it."

  Elena sat up, utterly bewildered. "Seen what?"

  "You two," Ember muttered, still refusing to turn around. "Always together, always whispering, always coming back arm in arm, smiling like some happy little pair—"

  "What?" Elena repeated, utterly baffled. "We—Ember, I see him like you see Raellin!"

  That made Ember stiffen for a fraction of a second.

  Elena pressed on. "He’s younger than me! I worry about him, I watch over him, but that’s it! Just like you do with Raellin! Would you say you like him the way you’re accusing me of liking Kaelen?"

  Ember didn’t answer.

  "No, right?" Elena pushed. "Because it’s not like that. It’s never been like that."

  Still, Ember wouldn’t turn around.

  Elena groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, first of all, Kaelen and I are not a thing. We’ve never been a thing. We will never be a thing."

  Silence.

  Encouraged, she pressed on. "He’s like my younger brother—annoying, stubborn, always making me question my choices. But that’s it. I swear."

  Ember gave the smallest shift, barely noticeable, but Elena caught it.

  She pushed forward. "I—why do you even care?"

  Ember tensed. "I don’t."

  "You clearly do!"

  Ember exhaled sharply, gripping the blanket tighter. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore."

  Elena clenched her jaw. "Why not?"

  No response.

  She stared at Ember’s back, heart pounding. "Ember."

  Still nothing.

  Frustration boiled inside her, but there was something else, too. Something she couldn’t quite name.

  Something that made her chest feel tight.

  A quiet rustling sound caught her attention, and she turned her head to find Snacks, now curled up in a tiny coil near the foot of the bed, already fast asleep.

  She let out a slow breath.

  Maybe… this wasn’t something she could fix with words.

  Maybe Ember just wasn’t ready to hear it yet.

  So, instead of pushing, instead of arguing, Elena sighed and laid back down.

  "Fine."

  She settled onto her side, staring at the ceiling.

  "But you’re still wrong," she mumbled, more to herself than anything. "About everything."

  She heard Ember shift slightly, but she didn’t respond.

  Another silence settled between them, heavy yet fragile.

  A long silence stretched between them. The room was dim, the soft glow of the swamp’s distant light filtering in through the cracks in the walls. Elena could hear Ember’s slow, steady breathing, but it felt forced—like she was holding something back.

  After a moment, Elena shifted closer, hesitated, then wrapped her arms around Ember from behind again, pressing her forehead lightly against her back.

  "Do you really think I like Kaelen?" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

  Ember didn’t move. "Yes," she said simply, her tone flat. "Just remember to invite me to the wedding."

  Elena groaned. "Ember."

  "What?"

  "I don’t like him like that!"

  "Sure."

  "I don’t!" Elena insisted, squeezing Ember a little tighter. "Why won’t you believe me?"

  "Because I know what I see," Ember muttered, her voice still cold. "And I see the way you two act. You’re always together. Always whispering. Always—"

  "It’s not like that!"

  "It looks like that."

  Elena clenched her jaw.

  She’d had enough of this.

  With a sudden movement, she climbed over Ember, shifting her weight so she was now face to face with her. The bed dipped under them as she straddled Ember’s waist, forcing her to meet her gaze.

  Ember stiffened beneath her, her red eyes widening in shock. "What are you—"

  "Look at me."

  Ember didn’t move.

  "Look at me, Ember."

  Reluctantly, Ember’s gaze flicked up, meeting Elena’s.

  "Do you really think I like Kaelen?" Elena whispered, her voice softer now, but firm.

  Ember opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again.

  Silence.

  Elena studied her, searching her expression.

  She could see the way Ember’s hands clenched slightly at her sides, the way her lips pressed into a thin line, the way her crimson eyes—normally so sharp, so full of certainty—now flickered with something unreadable.

  "Say it again," Elena whispered. "Tell me you believe it."

  Ember said nothing.

  Elena exhaled, her breath warm against Ember’s cheek. Slowly, she leaned down, her forehead resting against Ember’s. Their noses barely brushed, the warmth of their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

  "I don’t like him," she murmured. "I never have."

  Ember didn’t move.

  "And I won’t ever leave you," Elena continued, her voice soft, but sure. "Not now. Not ever."

  Ember swallowed.

  Elena inhaled gently, taking in Ember’s scent. "You smell like roses," she whispered, almost absently.

  A flicker of something crossed Ember’s face.

  "And you…" Ember murmured, voice quieter than before, "smell like fruit."

  Elena let out a breathy chuckle, closing her eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth between them. "See?" she whispered. "I belong here, Ember. With you."

  A silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t cold.

  It was warm. Almost fragile.

  Elena could feel Ember’s heartbeat beneath her fingertips, steady but fast, matching the quiet rhythm of her own.

  Ember swallowed, her hands twitching slightly where they rested at her sides.

  Elena didn’t move away.

  She stayed there, forehead pressed against Ember’s, waiting.

  Waiting for her to believe her.

  Ember stared at her for a long moment, the warmth of Elena’s breath still lingering against her skin. The stubborn gleam in Elena’s eyes, the certainty in her voice—it all made Ember feel… ridiculous.

  She exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before muttering, "Fine. I believe you."

  Elena’s lips twitched into a small smile, satisfied. But before she could fully revel in her victory, Ember’s expression shifted, her lips curving slightly into something smug. "Now get off me," she grumbled, "you're getting heavy."

  Elena froze.

  Her smile dropped instantly. "What?" she blurted.

  Ember smirked. "With all the fruit you’ve been eating, you’re getting fat."

  "Wha— I am not!" Elena shot up in a panic, quickly rolling off Ember and sitting up beside her. Her hands flew to her stomach as she pressed against it experimentally, brows furrowed in concern. "No way," she mumbled, "I’ve been eating the same amount as before… Am I really—?"

  Ember turned onto her side, watching with lazy amusement as Elena sat up, poking at her stomach like she was expecting to find something alarming.

  Then—before she could think better of it—Elena lifted her shirt slightly, exposing the smooth plane of her stomach. "Does it look alright?" she asked, glancing at Ember for reassurance.

  For a second, Ember was prepared to laugh—until she actually looked.

  Her breath caught.

  Elena’s skin was soft, glowing slightly under the dim light. Her stomach, perfectly fine and toned from all the climbing and running they had done, rose and fell with each breath. But for some reason, looking at it now—seeing Elena so unbothered about lifting her shirt in front of her—made something in Ember’s mind short-circuit.

  Her face felt hot.

  She turned her head away sharply, ears burning. "You look fine," she muttered, voice a little too quick, a little too stiff. "Not fat at all."

  Elena let out a breath of relief. "Thank the gods," she sighed dramatically, letting her shirt fall back down. "I was actually worried for a second—"

  Without warning, Ember shoved her.

  "Hey—!"

  "Shut up and sleep," Ember snapped, her voice gruff, but her face still burning as she turned away. "And let me sleep too."

  Elena pouted, rubbing her shoulder where Ember had pushed her. "That was uncalled for," she grumbled, but eventually—still slightly amused—she settled down.

  Ember, still facing away, squeezed her eyes shut.

  But even as the silence stretched between them again, she couldn’t erase the image of Elena from her mind—the way she had looked at her, trusting, unguarded.

  And worse—she couldn’t ignore the fact that her heart was still racing.