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The moon hung low in the sky, casting its silver glow over the tranquil lake. The water mirrored the world with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional ripple that distorted the reflection of the towering white towers in the distance. The holy city gleamed like a distant beacon, its light slicing through the clouds above, a reminder of the place they had once called home.

His focus remained on Valeria, seated by the shore, knees drawn to her chest, her golden hair cascading like a curtain over her face, veiling her sorrow. Her eyes were fixed on the water, lost in the steady rhythm of the waves lapping at the shore, but the sadness etched into her delicate features spoke volumes. Einar’s chest tightened. This wasn’t how their first night together was supposed to be.

They had been wed beneath the sacred flames, their souls bound for eternity, yet here they were—exiled, forced to flee the very land they had vowed to protect. Instead of celebrating, they were hiding, and the weight of that reality hung heavy between them.

Einar’s steps were silent on the soft grass as he approached her, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of earth and lake water. He sat down beside her, careful not to disturb her thoughts but unable to keep the concern from his voice. "Doesn’t look happy?" His words came out quiet, almost hesitant, but the strain of the night was unmistakable in his tone.

Valeria didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze remained on the water, her fingers curling into the earth beneath her as if she were trying to anchor herself to something solid, something real. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, distant. "Do we have to be happy about our situation?" There was a bitterness there, subtle but cutting, as if the enormity of their exile had only just settled into her bones.

Einar glanced at her, his crimson eyes catching the faint shimmer of moonlight on her skin. He wanted to offer comfort, but words felt inadequate. "Does that change anything?" he murmured. "We’re still together." He tried to inject warmth into his voice, but even to his own ears, it sounded forced, uncertain.

Valeria finally turned to him, her deep blue eyes meeting his. There was a flicker of warmth in them, a spark of the woman he loved, but it was buried beneath layers of sadness. Without a word, she shifted, sliding into his lap, her back pressing against his chest. For a moment, Einar felt the tension in his body ease as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The warmth of her body against his was a comfort, a reminder that despite everything, they still had each other.

"It was supposed to be our first night after our vows," she whispered, her voice tight with a mixture of pain and frustration. "But look where we are. This is what we get for being together."

Einar exhaled softly, resting his chin on top of her head, his lips brushing against her golden hair. "I warned you about this," he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "I can only give myself to you. Not respect, not pride."

Valeria chuckled bitterly, her head resting against his chest. "I became the cause of your downfall. I am just a tainted woman now. That’s all they’ll ever see me as."

Einar’s grip tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, his voice suddenly sharp. "Don’t ever say that." He could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, not at her, but at the world that had forced them into this situation. "You are as pure as Serelith herself."

A soft, humorless laugh escaped her lips, but there was no joy in it. "Comparing me to a goddess now?" She lifted a hand to his face, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. There was affection in the gesture, but her eyes remained heavy with sorrow. "You know what I meant."

"I do," Einar replied, his voice softer now, less defensive. He leaned into her touch, savoring the warmth of her hand on his skin. "But don’t let it get to your head."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Of course, love."

For a while, they sat in silence, the night stretching out around them, the gentle lap of the lake the only sound breaking the stillness. Valeria’s body relaxed in his arms, her breathing steadying, and for a brief moment, it felt like the weight of the world had lifted.

But then she reached into her robe, pulling out a dark wooden box, intricately carved with dragon symbols. She opened it slowly, revealing two rings—one silver, one black—both inscribed with ancient runes, glowing faintly under the moonlight.

Einar’s brow furrowed, curiosity sparking in his eyes as he looked at the rings. "What are these?"

Valeria smiled softly, lifting the black ring, sliding in his finger. "Marriage rings," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Or so they called on the other side, they exchange these during their vows. Your brother, gave them to us, remember? He made them himself—inscribed them with three unique runes. Here, one for you, one for me."

Einar chuckled, shaking his head. "Zenithar and his fascination with the human realm. I swear, he spends more time there than here. Must be something about their simplicity that amuses him."

Valeria laughed softly, the sound lighter than before, though the sadness hadn’t fully left her eyes. "Perhaps he found someone there..."

Einar smiled as he took the silver ring and slipped it onto her finger. "Maybe." His gaze lingered on her hand, on the way the ring seemed to shimmer in the dim light. There was a sense of finality in the gesture, like something had shifted between them, solidifying their bond in a way words could not.

As the rings settled on their fingers, Valeria’s expression darkened. Her eyes drifted away from the rings and back to the distant city, the weight of their situation pressing down on them once more. "With these rings," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "we can exchange three sacred vows. What will those be?"

Einar looked out over the lake, the moonlight reflecting off its surface, as he considered her question. After a long moment, he met her gaze, his hand reaching for hers. "Never disobey me, at any time," he said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of seriousness in his eyes.

Valeria smirked, placing her hand in his. "I vow to always obey you."

"Never lie to me."

"I vow to never lie to you."

"Never hide anything from me."

Valeria’s eyes softened as she spoke her final vow. "I vow to never hide anything from you."

As the last words left her lips, the thread made of light itself was wrapped on their hands, the rings on their fingers glowed faintly before the light dimmed, the magic of the vows settling into place. Einar smiled, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in days. "This will be our beginning, as bonds," he said quietly. "Even if we don’t get the luxury of celebrating it."

For a moment, Valeria remained silent, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Then, with a soft sigh, she leaned back into his chest. "Where should we go now?"

Einar hesitated, his mind racing through the possibilities. "We’ll head other side, to the human territories," he said after a moment. "Mostly along the borders. We’ll need to stay hidden. Their magic is... limited. They’ve only just started grasping ancient texts and our language."

Valeria hummed softly in acknowledgment, her head resting against his chest.

Einar chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Am I boring you?"

"A little," she teased, turning slightly to face him. Her lips were curved into a small smile, but her eyes held a mischievous glint. "You’re being a bit too practical for our first night."

Einar raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "What would you prefer I do?"

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Without answering, Valeria shifted in his lap, her body pressing closer to his. Her lips were inches from his, her breath warm against his skin. "It’s our first night after the ritual," she whispered, her voice low, teasing.

Einar’s heart quickened, his hand moving to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her soft lips. "You don’t have to ask me twice."

Their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, as if all the tension, all the weight of the night melted away in that single moment. Valeria’s fingers clutched at his robes, pulling him closer, her body molding against his, and for the first time that night, the cold seemed to vanish entirely. They weren’t exiles. They weren’t fugitives. In that moment, they were simply two souls bound by their love for each other.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Valeria rested her forehead against his, her blue eyes still locked onto his. "I love you, Einar," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, but filled with certainty.

Einar smiled softly, his heart swelling with emotion. "And I love you, Valeria."

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My chest heaved as consciousness crashed over me like a wave, heart aching like hammer and anvil, against my ribs. The remnants of the dream—no, the memory—clung to my skin like morning mist. I lifted my trembling hand, searching for those threads of light that had wound around my wrist moments ago, but found only bare flesh. Yet the warmth lingered beneath my skin, pulsing in time with my racing heart.

The simple act of sitting up sent daggers through my muscles. Every joint creaked in protest, as if I'd been lying still for an age. My throat felt like sun-baked clay, cracked and parched. Dawn's gray light filtered through the weathered shutters, casting long shadows across the floorboards.

I stood, wincing at the stiffness in my legs, and dressed, movements mechanical. No time to dwell on the strange ache in my chest, the weight of those memories pressing against me, waiting. There would be time enough for that.

A coughing fit tore through me, sudden and harsh, doubling me over. The noise echoed down the hall, bouncing back from the walls like a bell’s chime. I heard hurried footsteps, then the unmistakable clatter of a dropped spoon.

"Einar?" Mother's voice cracked with worry. "By the gods, you're finally awake!"

I stumbled into the hall, steadying myself against the wet wooden wall. The scent of cooking stew filled my nose, rich with herbs and root vegetables.

I stumbled into the hall, leaning against the damp wooden wall for support, grounding myself in the roughness of the wood beneath my hand. The familiar scent of stew simmered, rich with potatoes, carrots and herbs, wafting through the air. Mother stood at the hearth, her face pale as morning frost. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hands trembled as she reached for me.

"What do you mean, 'finally'?" The words scraped past my throat like grinding stones.

She hurried to the table, pouring water from an earthen pitcher. "Here, drink. You've been sleeping for three days, love. That sigil on your forehead..." She pressed the cup into my hands. "I feared..."

The water was sweet relief, though I nearly choked on her words. "Three days?" I sputtered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "That's not possible. Last night, you collapsed after breaking the seal—"

"Three days ago," she corrected softly, turning back to her cooking with unsteady hands. The wooden spoon scraped against the iron pot's bottom. "You should be resting, not fussing over me."

"Mother." I crossed to her, gently taking the spoon from her grip. "You're the one who needs rest. Using that much magic to break the seal—"

"Oh hush," she cut me off, though her smile wobbled. "I'm just a bit magic-spent. It has passed." She touched my cheek, her fingers cool against my skin. "Those weren't just dreams, do you believe it, now?"

Another cough wracked my frame. I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The memories felt raw, like fresh wounds beneath my skin. "Yeah, they were real. All of it. Valeria..."

"I know." Mother's eyes glistened. "I've carried that truth for so long. Watching you sleep these past three days, seeing those ancient symbols appear on your forehead..." She shook her head. "Go sit. You're swaying on your feet, and I won't have you collapse into my morning stew."

I wanted to argue, to insist she rest while I took over the cooking, but the truth was my legs were like water. The wooden chair creaked as I sank into it, muscles trembling from even that small effort. "Does she know?"

"Not everything, just little." Mother stirred the pot slowly. "She's taking it all rather hard, I think. Finding out her brother is..." She paused, searching for words.

"A reborn soul with memories of a past life and have magic from legends?" I offered dryly, earning a weak laugh.

"Something like that. I haven’t told her about reborn soul or anything." She ladled stew into a wooden bowl, the steam carrying the rich scent of herbs and vegetables. "Eat. You need your strength." Her hand brushed my shoulder as she set the bowl before me. "Whatever comes next, whatever these memories bring, we'll face it together."

As I ate, I felt the stew’s warmth spread through me, filling hollows I hadn’t realised were there. The broth eased the dryness in my throat, and by the third bowl, I felt the food’s grounding weight settle, holding me to the present.

"Eliza stopped by yesterday," Mother said quietly, settling into the chair across from me. "She was worried when you didn't show up at her shop..."

My spoon paused halfway to my mouth. "Did you tell her...?"

“Only that you were unwell… and that there’s old magic stirring in you.” Her fingers twisted in the edge of her apron. “But Einar… she deserves to know, at least about Valeria. About the life you had, even if it was long ago. That girl’s innocence knows no bound.”

The name hung heavy in the air between us. I set down my spoon, guilt gnawing at my insides. "I know. It's just..."

"She truly cares for you," Mother said gently. "More than she should, perhaps. I have seen in her eyes."

Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the windows rattle. "The weather's been strange these past few days," Mother continued, glancing outside. "Like the sky itself is restless. Started the day you fell into that sleep."

I followed her gaze to the window, where dark clouds loomed on the horizon. Something about them felt wrong, unnatural. "I'll speak with Eliza," I promised, pushing away my empty bowl. "Clear things up."

But my thoughts wandered to Alira. The sun had climbed higher, yet there was no sound from her room. No footsteps, no creaking floorboards, nothing. "Has Alira eaten anything today?"

"No... she hasn't left her room since yesterday's training she did with Eliza."

"I should check on her."

"That's probably wise."

I made my way down the hall, my barefoot quiet against the wooden floor. At Alira's door, I knocked softly. "Vixen? You awake?"

Silence answered. Without hesitation, I pushed the door open, and my heart lurched at what I saw.

Alira lay sprawled across her bed, her fiery red hair a stark contrast against the white pillow. Her face was ghost-pale save for two bright spots of color high on her cheeks. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps.

"Gods," I whispered, rushing to her bedside. My hand found her forehead, and the heat radiating from her skin made me curse. "Alira, wake up."

Her eyes fluttered open, emerald dulled to a sickly shade. "Brother... is that really you?" The word was barely a breath.

Fear clawed at my chest. This was wrong. The heat coming from her wasn't natural – it burned like forge fire beneath her skin. "You're burning up," I muttered, more to steady myself than anything.

A weak smile touched her lips. "It's... the magic," she whispered. "It's happening."

Understanding struck like lightning. This wasn't illness – it was awakening. Her magical core was flooding her body with power she wasn't ready to contain. "You should've told mother," I said, gentler than I felt. "This isn't something you hide."

"Didn't want to worry her, when you..." Her eyes fluttered closed. "Thought I could handle it."

My throat tightened. Typical Alira, always trying to protect, even when she was the one who needed it. "Rest, Vixen," I murmured, smoothing back her sweat-dampened hair. "I'll make sure you are safe."

She managed a faint nod before slipping back into fevered sleep. I watched her for a moment longer, my mind racing through options we didn't have. Then I turned and hurried back to the kitchen, where Mother still stood by the hearth.

She spun at my footsteps, her face falling at whatever she saw in mine. "Einar, what is it?"

"Alira has a fever." The words tasted like ash. "It's her awakening."

Mother paled, her hands trembling as she gripped the counter. "Already? It's too soon," she whispered. "Her body isn't ready for that kind of magic. You should go to Eliza; I have asked her for rare herb for Alira."

I nodded, already reaching for my sword belt. "I'll go to her. She might even have something else to stabilize her."

"Go quickly," Mother urged. "And be careful. Don't let anyone know about this. This isn’t a typical awakening, Einar. She carries dragon blood, and with it… risks.”

"Yes, Mother. Take care of her, I'll be back soon," I promised, buckling my sword at my hip. The weight was familiar, grounding.

With assuring mother with a promise to be back, I moved toward the door. I was foolish to think it will be that easy, all my life there have never been time when everything went easy for me. And yes, this and the last.

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