They didn't return to the forge right away.
Kael led Ember to a hidden camp carved into the side of the Glass Ravine—a pocket of quiet carved by rebels long ago, shielded by old enchantments and the roar of falling water. For now, it was just the two of them.
No Rowan.
No missions.
No war.
Only time, and silence—and the slow, terrifying realization that they didn't want to let go of each other.
Night draped the ravine in soft darkness.
Ember stood at the edge of the pool, barefoot on stone, letting the chill kiss her toes. Her tunic clung to her skin, damp from sweat and rain. Kael sat by the fire, watching her, a crooked smile ghosting his lips.
"You're staring," she said, turning just enough to catch the flicker of hunger in his eyes.
He didn't deny it. "You're worth staring at."
Ember's cheeks flushed. "You know how to ruin a quiet moment, don't you?"
Kael stood slowly, his movements unhurried but certain. He stepped behind her, fingers brushing the damp strands of her hair back from her neck.
"Not ruin," he murmured, voice low. "Just… change."
His hands slid to her waist.
She turned in his arms.
For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other—her breath catching, his steady but intense.
"Tell me to stop," he said, lips brushing hers.
She didn't.
And then there was no space left between them.
They didn't speak much after that.
Not because there was nothing to say—but because the language of skin on skin, breath on breath, said more than words ever could.
Kael kissed her like she was a secret he wanted to memorize. Ember held him like the world might break apart if she let go. It wasn't frantic or rough, not rushed by fear or fire.
It was slow.
Intentional.
Sacred.
When it was over, they lay tangled in furs by the fire, Ember's head on Kael's chest, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her shoulder.
"Are we fools?" she whispered. "Loving like this in a world like ours?"
Kael pressed his lips to her temple. "If we are, I'll burn with you anyway."
The next morning, the wind shifted.
Ember woke first, slipping from Kael's arms, drawn by a sharp cold threading through the magic in her blood. Something was near. Not fire—something colder. Older.
She dressed quickly, stepping into the pale light of dawn.
A rabbit lay just outside the camp border—dead, untouched. Its fur was scorched in thin, perfect lines. Ember's stomach turned.
Kael was at her side a second later. His eyes narrowed as he knelt beside the creature.
"Runes," he muttered. "Carved with surgical precision."
"The Oathbound?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
But he didn't deny it either.
They broke camp in minutes.
Kael wrapped his arms around her as they stood on the cliff edge. "We'll go to Rowan. He needs to see this."
Ember nodded, but her thoughts were far away.
That vision—the sword in her chest. Kael's face twisted in grief.
No, she told herself. Not him. Never him.
He kissed her before they vanished into the trees, and for that heartbeat, the dread eased.
But it never disappeared.
Elsewhere – The Flame Citadel
Tharos stood in his war chamber, watching smoke rise from a burning map.
"The Oathbound is drawing closer," said a soldier. "Three rebel stations have gone dark."
Tharos didn't blink. "Let it hunt. Let it burn."
He turned, eyes blazing.
"And when it brings her to me… she will kneel. Or she will turn to cinder."