The training yard was empty at dawn. Mist clung to the ground, cool and silver, and the air smelled faintly of smoke—though there hadn’t been a fire in days. You found I.N there alone, spear resting against his shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration as he practiced the same movement again and again. He startled when he noticed you. “Oh—sorry,” he said quickly, straightening. “I didn’t hear you.” That was unusual. He usually noticed everything. “You shouldn’t be up this early,” you told him. I.N smiled, sheepish. “Couldn’t sleep.” You didn’t press. You never did. That was part of why he trusted you. As the sun crept higher, the air grew warmer. Too warm. The metal of his spear shimmered faintly, heat rippling along the haft. I.N stared at it, breath hitching. “It’s happening again,” he whispered. You stepped closer. The ground beneath his feet was warm now, the mist evaporating in soft curls. “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said, voice tight. “They say it’s a blessing. A prophecy. But it doesn’t feel like one.” A low rumble echoed—not thunder. Above the clouds, something vast shifted. Instinctively, you reached for him. The moment your hand brushed his wrist, the heat softened. The air stilled. I.N’s breath steadied like he’d been holding it for too long. He looked at you in awe. “It listens to you.” He swallowed, gaze dropping to where your hands still touched—then back to your face, uncertain but hopeful. “They say one day I’ll be strong enough to command it,” he said quietly. “But right now… I think I only know how to protect what matters.” A shadow passed overhead. Wings—just for a moment. I.N stepped closer, careful, like he was afraid of scaring you away. “Stay,” he asked softly. “At least until I learn how to be what they expect me to be.” The warmth lingered between you—gentle, alive, waiting.