The Arcane Garden was forbidden after dusk.
Moonflowers bloomed only under starlight, each petal humming with soft spells of memory and emotion. It was said that if you whispered a secret to the garden, the flowers would hold it forever—never telling, but never forgetting.
Elira stood among them now, barefoot in the dew-kissed grass, her fingertips brushing the petals like a prayer. The night air shimmered with soft magic, cool against her skin, but her heart was far from calm.
She didn't hear Kaelen approach—he never made a sound. But she felt him. Like the brush of wind before lightning. Like the way your body senses fire before you see the flames.
"You found me," she said softly, not turning.
"I didn't need to look," he replied, his voice quieter than the breeze. "You're a storm I feel in my blood."
Elira turned then, facing him. In the moonlight, Kaelen looked almost unreal—his dark hair tousled from wind, his tunic loose, revealing the faint shimmer of runes inked into his chest. He wasn't just beautiful. He was haunting.
She didn't know whether to run or kiss him again.
Instead, she asked, "Why did you mark me?"
Kaelen stepped closer, close enough that their shadows touched.
"Because I've never wanted something so much," he said, eyes locked on hers, "and the arcane doesn't lie. It responds to truth, to desire… and I desired you."
Elira's breath caught.
She should push him away. She should fight the warmth spreading through her limbs. But the mark beneath her skin throbbed gently, like a heartbeat shared between two bodies. It didn't feel like a curse.
It felt like… fate.
Kaelen lifted a hand but didn't touch her—he hovered just near her cheek, as though reverence held him still.
"May I?" he asked, voice low.
She leaned in, her forehead gently resting against his.
"Yes," she whispered.
The kiss that followed was slower than their first, but deeper—woven with tenderness, not fire. It was lips against lips, and the soft sigh of souls recognizing each other. The kind of kiss that promised both pleasure and ruin.
When they pulled apart, Elira laughed softly, brushing her nose against his.
"I'm supposed to hate you," she murmured.
"I know," Kaelen smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear. "But love was never meant to follow rules."
They stood there under the moonlight, the garden blooming silently around them, as if nature itself had bent to their secret. And for the first time in days, Elira didn't feel cursed or afraid.
She felt chosen.