The night air was cold enough to bite.
Our campfire flickered inside the ruins, painting gold across Kael's profile and Zeref's infuriatingly calm grin.
I leaned against a cracked pillar, exhaustion winning the war over consciousness.
My eyelids drooped halfway through their argument about drop rates, and before long, the world faded to embers and sleep.
Then...warmth.
Something brushed over me. Not the wind. Softer. I cracked one eye open and caught a blur of Zeref's cloak as he knelt beside me, pulling a thick blanket from his item box.
He tucked it over my shoulders with ridiculous care, his hands deliberate, almost gentle.
He probably thought I was asleep. Which, fine, I was. Mostly.
A low scrape broke the moment, the unmistakable whisper of Kael's dagger sliding free from its sheath.
Zeref's hand froze mid-motion. He didn't even turn, just said, "Relax, Kael. It's a blanket, not a proposal."
The silence that followed could've killed grass.
