The fire crackles low, its embers sighing rather than roaring—like the world itself has finally taken a breath.

Outside the ruined chapel you’ve taken refuge in, the wind howls through splintered stone and broken stained glass. Crows perch in the rafters above, black silhouettes watching like silent sentries. Your robes are heavy with dust and ash, your fingers still faintly glowing from the spell you held too long. The scent of burnt air clings to your hair.

And yet… you feel calm.

Torain sits a few feet away, his back against the crumbled altar, one arm draped over his knee. The other rests at his side, fingers stained with dried blood—his or someone else’s, you don’t ask. His armor is scraped and dented. A new cut traces just beneath his jaw, red and raw, but he hasn’t bothered to clean it.

He hasn’t said a word since the fight ended.

The light of the fire catches in his profile—sharp cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the ever-present furrow between his brows that he never seems to relax. His sword is beside him, leaning against the stone, but his hand isn’t on it. That’s rare.

His eyes flick to you, just once, as if to check you’re still there.

Then, slowly, he leans his head back against the altar and lets out a breath you weren’t meant to hear. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, how his fingers twitch once before stilling. The silence between you stretches—but it isn’t empty. It’s full. Full of things neither of you ever say.

Torain doesn’t look at you again, but he speaks, voice low and rough like gravel under water.

“I thought we’d lost you,” he says.

The words are barely more than a whisper, like he’s afraid saying them too loud might make them true.

He swallows, jaw clenched.

“I would’ve torn the world apart.”

Your throat tightens. You say nothing. You don’t need to.

He doesn’t fill the silence. He just closes his eyes and leans his head slightly in your direction—not close enough to touch, not quite—but enough to tell you everything he won’t.

And beside the flickering fire, you sit in the ruin and feel the quiet hum of his presence like a shield around you. No vows. No promises. Just this moment.

Just him. And you. And the weight of what’s unspoken.