Lyra didn't remember falling asleep.
But she remembered the dream.
She was back in the ruins of the sanctuary — flames licking the walls, the screams of her sisters still echoing in the air. Her hands trembled, soaked in blood she didn't remember spilling. Magic surged under her skin, too wild to control.
And standing in the middle of the wreckage—
Was him.
Kael.
But not as she knew him.
He wore a crown of fire. Wings of ash stretched wide behind his back. His eyes glowed with judgment, not warmth.
"You let them die," he said, voice like cracking stone. "You ran."
Lyra stumbled back, pain lashing through her chest.
"I couldn't save them—"
"You didn't try hard enough."
She gasped—
And woke.
The cave was dark except for the low, flickering rune-light on the walls.
Her body was slick with sweat. Her breath caught in her throat.
Across the space, Kael was sitting upright, staring at her.
He wasn't asleep.
He hadn't been.
"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, voice raw.
"Long enough," he said, his tone softer than usual.
Lyra rubbed her eyes. "You always stare like that?"
"Only when the person I'm watching keeps whispering my name in her sleep."
Her hands stilled.
"What?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "You said it like it hurt."
She didn't respond.
Because she didn't remember saying it.
But the ache in her chest said it was probably true.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Bad dream?"
She gave a stiff nod.
He didn't press.
Instead, he stood and crossed the space between them.
For a moment, she thought he might touch her — wipe the sweat from her brow, place a hand on her shoulder, whisper something dark and comforting.
But he didn't.
He simply sat beside her.
Close enough that their knees almost touched. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Until finally, Lyra whispered, "It's the same every time. Fire. Screams. Me — running."
Kael's voice was quiet. "Guilt?"
She nodded.
He let the silence stretch again, then said, "You can still carry guilt without letting it own you."
"Easy for a devil to say."
"Not really," he said. "I've killed people I didn't have to. Destroyed places that didn't deserve it. And I dream about it. Every night."
That surprised her.
"You have nightmares?"
His smile was bitter. "When I sleep. Which isn't often."
She turned slightly toward him. His features were softer in the low light — less like a warlord, more like a man worn thin at the edges.
For the first time, she saw the cracks in him.
Not just anger.
Not just power.
But pain.
And it made her chest hurt.
"Do you ever stop hearing their voices?" she asked quietly.
Kael looked at her.
"Only when I hear yours instead."
That silenced her.
She looked away, pretending to study the flickering cave wall.
"Don't say things like that," she murmured.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to need you."
He was silent for a beat.
Then, softly:
"Too late."
Lyra didn't respond.
She couldn't.
Not with the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. Not with the way the heat between them had shifted from fire to something softer. Something far more dangerous.
Connection.
For the first time in years, she didn't feel alone in the dark.
She didn't know whether to hate him for it…
Or thank him.
They didn't speak again that night.
But Kael didn't return to his side of the cave.
He stayed near her — not touching, not crowding — just present.
Like a flame that refused to leave.
When Lyra finally slept again, her dreams were still filled with fire.
But this time, a hand reached through the smoke.
And it didn't burn her.