The cabin smelled of pine and old magic, a musty, primal scent that clung to the walls like damp moss after a storm. Lira sat curled by the hearth, her knees drawn tight to her chest, her body a map of aches from her desperate escape. The fire snapped and popped, casting flickering shadows across her pale hands, which she flexed cautiously, testing their strength. A dull pain answered, a reminder of her fragility. Weakness lingered like an unwelcome guest, coiling in her bones, but she refused to let it claim her. Not again.
Beyond the cabin's warped wooden walls, the night was alive with subtle threats. The wards—ancient runes carved into the earth—hummed faintly, their energy a low, tingling pulse against her skin, even from this distance. They were a fragile shield between her and Jason's pack, a barrier she could feel fraying at the edges. Her stomach twisted, a cold knot forming at the thought of him. Jason's voice slithered into her mind, low and venomous, his words from months ago as sharp as ever: *You're nothing without me, Mutt. Nothing.* She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away, but it clung like the damp chill seeping through the floorboards.
"Lira," Kael's voice broke through, soft but steady, pulling her back from the edge of memory. He stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the cold morning, his dark hair catching the firelight's glow. His eyes, sharp and amber-flecked, scanned her with a focus that felt both protective and unnerving. "The wards are holding, but they're being tested. I felt a ripple—Jason's scouts, most likely."
She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the tremor in her legs and the way her vision swam briefly. "I want to help" she said, her voice sharper than she intended.
Kael's gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing. "Alright," he said simply, stepping aside to let her pass. "But you're still healing. Don't push too hard, or you'll undo what little strength you've gained."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tight. She hated the reminder of her frailty, hated how it echoed Jason's taunts, his cruel laughter when she'd dared to stand against him. *You think you're strong? You're nothing.* She shoved the thought down, burying it deep, and followed Kael into the biting morning air. The cold stung her cheeks, grounding her in the present as she trailed him to the cabin's perimeter.
The wards glowed faintly, their runes etched into smooth stones half-buried in the frost-kissed earth. Kael knelt beside one, his fingers tracing the intricate lines with a practiced ease that spoke of years handling magic. "This one's weakening," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "I'll show you how to reinforce it. It's simple enough, but it takes focus."
Lira crouched beside him, her shoulder brushing his as she settled onto the cold ground. A jolt shot through her, warm and electric, like a spark racing along a hidden thread—the bond she still didn't understand, didn't trust. Her breath hitched, her heart pounding too loud in her ears, and she jerked back, putting a hand's breadth of space between them. Kael's eyes flicked to her, sharp and searching, but he didn't comment on her retreat. He just waited, giving her room to breathe.
"Like this," he said, his voice calm as he reached for her hand, then hesitated, his fingers hovering above hers. "May I?"
She swallowed, her throat tight, and nodded. His touch was light, guiding her hand to the rune's surface. His fingers were calloused, warm despite the chill, and steady in a way that made her chest ache with something she couldn't name. "Trace the lines," he murmured, his breath visible in the cold air. "Feel the energy. It's like a current, flowing through you to the stone."
She hesitated, her fingers trembling as they brushed the rune. The stone was cool, its carved lines smooth under her touch. She pressed harder, and the rune flared softly, a faint silver glow blooming from her palm. She gasped, yanking her hand back as if burned, the glow fading instantly. "What was that?" Her voice cracked, betraying her unease.
Kael's expression shifted—surprise, maybe pride, flickering in his eyes. "Magic" he said, his voice low and warm. "It's in you, Lira. Stronger than you think."
Her pulse quickened, not just from the magic but from his closeness, his scent—woodsmoke and cedar, with a hint of something wilder—wrapping around her like a tether pulling her closer. She wanted to lean into it, to let the warmth of the bond melt the cold knot of fear in her chest. But memory surged, unbidden and cruel: Jason's hand clamping around her wrist, his grip bruising as he dragged her down stone steps to the cell beneath his stronghold. The iron door had slammed shut with a clang that echoed in her bones, the darkness swallowing her screams. *You'll learn your place, Lira,* he'd snarled, his voice dripping with contempt as he left her there for days, alone with her defiance and her fear.
She flinched, stumbling back from Kael, her breath shallow. He froze, his hand half-raised to point at the next rune, and her eyes locked on it, her body bracing for a blow that never came. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his arm, his movements careful, as if she were a startled animal. "Lira," he said, his voice dropping to a low, earnest murmur, "I'll never hurt you. Never. You don't have to fear me."
Her throat tightened, a lump forming that she couldn't swallow. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust the steadiness in his amber-flecked eyes, the way they held hers without demand or expectation. But Jason's shadow loomed too large, his cruelty a specter she couldn't shake. "You don't know me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You don't know what I've done to survive."
Kael's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed soft, measured. "Maybe not. But I know you're here, still fighting. That's enough for now."
She stared at him, her chest tight with conflicting urges—to pull away, to protect herself, or to step closer, to test the warmth of the bond that pulsed faintly between them. She nodded stiffly, turning back to the rune to hide the tremor in her hands. "Show me again," she said, her voice steadier now. "I want to get it right."
He nodded, his movements deliberate as he guided her through the process again, his voice a low rumble of encouragement. "Slow. Steady. Let the magic find you." Their hands brushed again, and this time she didn't pull away, though her heart raced at the contact, at the warmth that lingered where his skin met hers.
They worked in silence after that, moving from stone to stone, fortifying the wards under the watchful moon. The night air grew colder, biting at her fingertips, but the task grounded her, gave her something to hold onto besides her fear. When they finished, Kael led her back to the cabin, his presence a quiet anchor at her side.
Inside, the fire had dwindled to embers, but the cabin felt warmer, safer, despite the lingering threat outside. Kael busied himself at the stove, stirring a pot of stew with a clink of a wooden spoon against iron. The simple act—his broad shoulders hunched over the fire, the faint hum of a tune under his breath—felt foreign after Jason's displays of dominance. Jason had never cooked, never cared for her beyond what served his control. He'd demanded her obedience, her silence, her submission. Kael's restraint, his deliberate distance, stirred a confusing ache in her chest, a longing she didn't know how to name.
They sat across from each other at the small table, the stew steaming between them. The silence grew heavy, broken only by the scrape of Lira's spoon against the bowl. Her mind churned, memories of Jason's cruelty tangling with the quiet warmth of this moment. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Jason… he locked me in a cell several times. For days. The longest because I told him he was wrong about a raid. He said defiance was a disease, that he'd cure me of it."
Kael's spoon paused midair, his knuckles whitening around the handle, but he didn't interrupt. His eyes, intense and unyielding, stayed on her, waiting. She studied his hands—strong, calloused from years of work, yet gentle when they'd guided her over the rune. "He left me there," she continued, her voice trembling but resolute. "No food, no light. Just the dark and his voice in my head, telling me I'd never be free."
Kael's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble, but his voice, when he spoke, was soft, almost reverent. "You're here now, Lira. You're free. He doesn't own you, no matter what he made you believe."
She looked away, her eyes stinging. "It doesn't feel like it. Not yet."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady but laced with a quiet fire. "It will. You're stronger than he ever gave you credit for. I see it, even if you don't."
Her breath caught, the bond pulsing faintly, warm and insistent, urging her to believe him. She wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that she was broken, tainted by Jason's cruelty. But the way Kael looked at her—steady, patient, without a trace of pity—made the words stick in her throat. For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of safety, fragile but real, like a spark that could grow if she let it.
"Do you ever…" She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her spoon. "Do you ever feel like you're running from something you can't escape?"
Kael's eyes darkened, a shadow passing over his face. "All the time," he admitted, his voice rough. "But I've learned you don't outrun it by hiding. You face it, piece by piece, until it's smaller than you are."
She studied him, the lines of his face, the quiet strength in his posture. "And if it's bigger than me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Then you don't face it alone," he said simply, his gaze holding hers. "You've got me, Lira. Whether you want me or not."
Her heart stuttered, the bond flaring with a warmth that made her skin tingle. She wanted to reach for it, to let it anchor her, but fear held her back, a reflex born of too many betrayals. She dropped her gaze, focusing on the stew, the steam curling upward like a fragile promise.
A sudden spark cracked outside, sharp and violent, like lightning splintering the wards. Kael was on his feet in an instant, his form rippling as claws extended from his fingertips, a partial shift that made Lira's breath catch. His eyes glowed faintly, amber and feral, as he growled, "Stay here."
Through the window, she saw a shadow dart beyond the wards—a scout, lean and lupine, testing the boundary with a flicker of dark magic. Kael's growl echoed into the night, low and menacing, as he bolted outside, his movements fluid and predatory. The sight of him—fierce, protective—cut through her distrust like a blade, stirring a warmth she didn't want to feel. She pressed a hand to her chest, the bond pulsing faintly, urging her closer to him despite the fear clawing at her heart.
When he returned, his claws were gone, but his eyes still burned with intensity, his chest heaving slightly from the chase. "They're gone," he said, his voice rough. "For now. But they'll be back."
Lira nodded, her gaze drifting to the rune stone she'd touched earlier, its faint glow still lingering in her memory. Later, alone by the hearth, she sat cross-legged on the floor, the fire's warmth seeping into her aching limbs. She traced the rune's shape in the air, her fingers trembling as she mimicked the lines Kael had shown her. The glow returned, faint but steady, blooming in her palm like a heartbeat. It felt alive, a piece of herself she hadn't known existed.
She glanced up to find Kael watching from the doorway, his arms crossed, his eyes unreadable but fierce, as if guarding something precious. "You're getting it," he said, his voice low, a hint of pride breaking through.
She ducked her head, the glow fading as her hand dropped. "It feels… strange. Like it's not mine."
"It's yours," he said firmly, stepping closer but stopping short, giving her space. "It's always been yours, Lira. You just need time to claim it."
Her throat tightened, the bond humming softly between them, a thread she wasn't ready to pull. In the distance, a howl pierced the night, sharp and mournful, a reminder of the danger closing in. But for now, in the quiet of the cabin, with Kael's steady presence and the faint glow of the Moon's Gift in her palm, Lira felt the smallest spark of something new—hope, fragile but growing, like a flame she might one day dare to feed.