Elden lay on the cot in the room he rented above the tavern, the same as Aerin. His room was two rooms away from hers. It was dimly lit, only a small candle in the slightly crooked window. The warmth of Mara’s healing magic still lingering in his arm, several days after she healed him, but it did little to ease the turmoil raging within him. He stared up at the ceiling, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows that mirrored the conflict in his heart. The pain from his wounds was nothing compared to the ache he felt inside.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of tension, and Aerin had been at the center of it all. Every interaction with her seemed to leave him more off-balance, more on edge. He couldn’t stop replaying their moments together—the heat, the intensity, the strange, electric connection that seemed to crackle between them whenever they were close.

The alley had been the worst. Or maybe the best. He couldn’t decide. The way they’d been forced together, hiding from those men—he could still feel the ghost of her breath against his skin, could still hear the faint, hitching sound she’d made when their bodies had brushed too closely. He hadn’t expected the sparks that had passed between them, the literal sparks of her magic, as if her power itself was reacting to his presence. His hand had tingled for hours afterward.

And then, of course, there was the banter. The way they snapped and bit at each other, like two wolves testing the boundaries of their territory. It had started as an act, a means of keeping things distant, professional. But now? Now, the sharp words had become something else, something heavier. There was a weight behind every exchange, every cutting remark she hurled his way. It wasn’t just her suspicion of him—though he knew that suspicion lingered, unspoken, in the depths of her gaze—it was something more primal. A tension that simmered beneath the surface, threatening to break through at any moment.

She didn’t trust him. That much was clear. And why should she? He’d given her every reason to question him, to doubt his motives. But even so, he couldn’t deny that there was something between them, something that neither of them seemed able to control. It wasn’t just attraction—it was a need, a pull that defied reason. The closer they got to each other, the harder it became to step back.

He remembered the way she had looked at him after one of their verbal spars, her eyes flashing with equal parts frustration and something else—something deeper. She was always on guard with him, always suspicious. But there had been moments—brief, fleeting moments—when that guard had slipped, and he had seen the vulnerability beneath. And those moments, fleeting as they were, had been enough to shake him.

Damn her. Damn the way she unsettled him. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But she was in his head now, a presence he couldn’t shake. And the more he tried to distance himself, the more she seemed to slip past his defenses.

He had been sent by the king of Enderris on a mission cloaked in secrecy, a mission that gnawed at his conscience with every passing day. Hidden deep in the forest of Nyxia, south of Enderris, the king, King Hazrael, pulled the strings, and Elden was his unwitting pawn. The king’s desire to change Enderris was a secret Elden bore alone, a weight that threatened to crush him under its enormity.

Every glance he shared with Aerin, every moment spent in her presence, only deepened his inner conflict. Her laugh was a melody that haunted his dreams, her strength and determination a beacon that drew him closer despite the chasm that duty had carved between them. He could see the beginnings of something in her eyes, a spark that mirrored his own feelings, and it both thrilled and terrified him. How could he reconcile his growing affection for her with the knowledge of the king’s sinister plans?

Elden’s thoughts were a tangled web of duty, deceit, and burgeoning love. He had sworn an oath to the king, yet each day that passed, he found himself questioning the morality of his mission. His feelings for Aerin were real, raw, and powerful, pulling him in directions he could scarcely control. He longed to confide in her, to share the burdens that weighed so heavily on his soul, but the risk was too great. Revealing his true purpose could spell doom for them all, and the thought of betraying her trust was a dagger to his heart.

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In the quiet of his chamber, with the distant sounds of the night whispering through the walls, Elden made a silent vow. He would protect Aerin at all costs, even if it meant standing against the very man who commanded him. The path ahead was fraught with peril, and he had no idea how to navigate the treacherous waters of loyalty and love. But for now, he would fight his battles in silence, his feelings for Aerin a forbidden flame that he dared not let burn too brightly. The shadows of the forest of Nyxia seemed to reach out to him, a reminder of the secrets he kept and the destiny he was yet to fulfill. And as sleep finally claimed him, Elden’s last thoughts were of Aerin, her face a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded him.

Aerin paced back and forth in the small, dimly lit room above the tavern, the flickering candlelight casting restless shadows on the walls. The night was quiet, closing in on dawn, but her thoughts were anything but. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to shift, like the calm before a storm. And, as if on cue, there was a knock at her door—firm, familiar.

Her heart clenched. She already knew who it was.

Elden stepped inside, his presence instantly filling the space, making it feel smaller, more claustrophobic. His dark eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words, tension crackling like the aftermath of a lightning strike.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Aerin muttered, her voice low and warning, though it lacked conviction.

“And yet, here I am,” Elden replied, his tone just as guarded, his gaze never leaving hers.

She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to create some semblance of distance, but it was pointless. Every inch of her body was aware of him, of the heat that radiated from him, pulling her in like a gravitational force she couldn’t resist.

“Why?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “Why are you here, Elden?”

He took a step closer, closing the already narrow gap between them. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t be.”

Their eyes locked, hers filled with frustration and uncertainty and his with a dark withholding fire and remorse, the tension that had been simmering for days boiled over, too intense to ignore. It wasn’t just frustration or anger anymore—it was something raw.

Before she could think better of it, before she could stop herself, Aerin surged forward, grabbing the front of Elden’s shirt and yanking him toward her. Their lips met in a clash of heat and frustration, the kiss fierce and almost desperate. His hands immediately found her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

The kiss was messy, unrestrained, filled with all the unspoken things they hadn’t dared to acknowledge. It was a collision of emotion—anger, desire, and something darker. Her fingers tangled in his hair as his grip tightened around her, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the heat of the moment, the need to feel, to lose themselves in each other.

Elden broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against hers. His hands still gripped her waist, and he seemed reluctant to let her go.

For a long moment, they stood like that—breathing the same air, sharing the same space, as if the world beyond the room didn’t exist. Everything they hadn’t said was there, between them, but neither of them had the strength to put it into words.

Unconsciously, her magic began to intertwine with Elden's essence, probing gently at the edges of his mind.

It was an instinctual act, driven by a need to understand, to connect more deeply with the man she loved. She felt his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and strong, a counterpoint to the unease growing within her.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath against his skin.

Elden hesitated, his fingers stilling in their movements. He looked down at her, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. "It's nothing, Aerin. Just… the weight of everything. The war, the uncertainty. You know how it is."

But she did not know. Not fully. And that uncertainty gnawed at her, driving her magic deeper, more insistently. She felt a resistance, a barrier that she had never encountered before, and her curiosity sharpened into something more urgent, more desperate.

Their breaths synchronized, the rhythm of their closeness drawing her deeper into his mind. She pushed gently, her magic like a soft breeze, coaxing the hidden truths to the surface. And then, like a dam breaking, she saw.