Morning came softly, like it was afraid of them.
Mist curled through the forest in pale ribbons, clinging to the roots of ancient trees and the edges of a small clearing where embers from a dying fire glowed faintly. Birds watched from a distance, silent, as if the land itself was still deciding whether Aelin and Kael were welcome.
Kael woke to pain.
It spread slowly, methodically ribs screaming, shoulder stiff, head pounding like it had been split open and poorly stitched back together. He groaned, trying to shift, only to feel a hand press gently against his chest.
"Don't," Aelin said.
Her voice was rough with exhaustion.
Kael opened his eyes.
She sat beside him, knees pulled to her chest, hair tangled and loose around her shoulders. Dried blood still marked her skin, dark against pale. Her eyes gods, her eyes were watching him too closely, like she'd been afraid he'd disappear if she blinked.
He smiled faintly. "You hovering now?"
"I'm guarding," she replied. "Very different."
"Terrifying."
That earned a weak huff of a laugh from her. It didn't last.
She looked away, fingers curling into the fabric of her torn sleeve. The shadows around her stirred in response, restless even now.
Kael followed her gaze. "How long was I out?"
"Most of the night," she said quietly. "I… couldn't get you to wake up."
His smile faded. "Sorry."
"Don't." Her head snapped back toward him. "Don't apologize for surviving."
Something tightened in his chest not pain this time.
He reached for her hand. She hesitated only a second before lacing her fingers with his, grip firm, grounding.
The bond hummed.
Subtle now. Steady.
Not burning.
"What happened after?" Kael asked. "I remember Mark falling. And then....."
"Chaos," Aelin said. "The council chamber collapsed. Some escaped. Some didn't." Her jaw tightened. "The city won't forget what happened."
Neither would she.
Kael squeezed her hand. "Neither will they forget you."
She swallowed. "That's what scares me."
Silence settled between them, thick and thoughtful. The forest breathed around them leaves whispering, branches creaking gently overhead.
Finally, Aelin spoke.
"I felt you," she said. "When they hurt you. Every time."
Kael's thumb stilled against her knuckles.
"It wasn't just pain," she continued. "It was like… my power was screaming at me to move. To burn everything down until you were safe."
He met her gaze carefully. "And you listened."
"Yes." Her voice trembled. "Too easily."
The shadows at her feet rippled, responding to her emotion. She noticed and pulled herself tighter, as if trying to hold them in.
Kael shifted, wincing, but pushed himself upright anyway. "Hey," he murmured. "Look at me."
She did.
"You didn't lose control," he said. "You made choices."
"You don't know that," she whispered.
"I do," he said firmly. "Because I felt you too."
Her breath caught.
"You weren't drowning," he continued. "You were… reaching. For me. For something solid."
Tears welled despite her effort to hold them back.
"I was so afraid," she admitted. "That if I let go, even for a second, I'd become exactly what they wanted."
Kael leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. "You became what they feared."
Her eyes closed.
The bond flared gently warm, steady, mutual.
Not ownership.
Not control.
Choice.
They stayed like that for a long time, until the sun climbed higher and warmth chased the mist away.
Eventually, Aelin pulled back, wiping her face. "You need rest. And real bandages. And food."
He smirked. "Bossy."
"You're injured."
"Still bossy."
She rolled her eyes but stood, moving toward the small pack she'd salvaged during their escape. As she rummaged through it, Kael watched her carefully.
The shadows followed her movements.
Not wild. Not aggressive.
Attentive.
Like sentinels.
"You're doing that thing," she said without looking at him.
"What thing?"
"Watching me like I might explode."
"Reasonable concern," he said lightly.
She glanced back, unamused. "Say what you're thinking."
Kael exhaled slowly. "They respond to you differently now."
She stilled. "Differently how?"
"Like they're listening," he said. "Not reacting. Choosing."
Aelin stared at her hands.
"I don't know what that means," she admitted.
"It means," Kael said carefully, "that whatever awakened in you… it's not just destruction."
She laughed bitterly. "You didn't see what I did."
"I saw enough."
She turned fully toward him now. "Then how are you not afraid of me?"
Kael didn't answer right away.
He stood slowly, ignoring the protest from his body, and stepped closer. He reached out, placing his hand over her heart.
"Because you're afraid of yourself," he said quietly. "And monsters don't feel that."
Her breath shuddered.
She leaned into him, forehead pressing against his chest this time. His arms wrapped around her without thinking, holding her like something fragile and unbreakable all at once.
"What are we now?" she whispered.
Kael stared out into the forest, where the light fractured through the leaves like shattered glass.
"Wanted," he said. "Hunted. Very inconvenient."
She snorted weakly.
"And together," he added.
Her grip tightened.
"Yes," she said. "Together."
They left before noon.
The forest paths were narrow, half-forgotten, but Aelin seemed to sense which way to go lnot instinct, exactly, but something older guiding her steps. Kael didn't question it.
By dusk, they reached higher ground. From the ridge, the city was visible in the distance dark smoke smudging the horizon like a bruise that hadn't faded yet.
Aelin stopped.
"That's everything I knew," she murmured.
Kael stood beside her. "And everything that tried to break you."
She nodded slowly. "They'll come after us."
"Good," he said. "I'm tired of running in circles."
She looked at him, searching his face. "You don't regret it?"
"Regret?" He scoffed softly. "I'd do it again. Every time."
The bond warmed, humming approval.
Below them, unseen but watching, something ancient shifted.
The beacon had been lit.
And the world had noticed.