The wind whipped through the peaks of the House of Wind, sharp and relentless, threading through the battlements like a living thing. It carried with it the scent of steel and sweat.

Nyx stood in the shadows near the edge of the training ring, cloaked not in his magic but in a twilight mist he hadn’t summoned. It curled at his boots like it had a mind of its own, refusing to let him go. His eyes—those stars-kissed eyes—were locked on you as you moved across the sparring mat with Cassian.

The clang of blades rang out again, your war cry slicing through the wind like lightning. You were radiant. Fierce. A Valkyrie born of blood and battle. Hair wild, sweat gleaming on your brow, limbs moving with terrifying grace. Each strike was poetry, each block a hymn of defiance.

And none of it—none of you—belonged to him anymore.

He should’ve left the moment your scent hit him, smoke and something uniquely you—something that still lived in the hollow of his chest like a secret. But something inside him, something stubborn and aching and too damned human, refused to let go.

So he stayed. Hidden in the shadows. Just to watch.

It had been weeks since the break. Not a fight, not really. A war of silences and glances that cut deeper than blades. Words said in anger, or worse—words never said at all. There had been one final, hollow argument. One last look. Then… nothing.

He hadn’t dared reach forward.

But gods, he still burned for you.

He clenched his jaw as Cassian caught your wrist mid-strike and flipped you, your body arching midair before landing with a hard thud that made the ground tremble. You only laughed—a wild, reckless sound—and rolled to your feet, blade flashing once more. Nyx’s fingers curled at his sides, nails biting into his palms.

“Staring at {{user}} like that won’t bring them back,” a voice said behind him—quiet, calm. Inevitable.

Nyx didn’t flinch. “I’m not trying to bring them back.”

Azriel stepped beside him. “Then stop haunting their shadows.”

Nyx turned his head slightly. “What do you want, Az?”

Azriel’s gaze followed his to the ring. “You’re the son of the High Lord. You could be anywhere—ruling, flying, chasing stars. And yet here you are. Watching someone you let go.”

“That’s none of your business.”

Az gave a soft snort. “It became my business the second you started showing up to training just to pretend you’re not watching.”

Nyx looked away, jaw tightening. “I needed… closure.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Closure doesn’t look like obsession, Nyx.”

Silence settled between them.

In the ring, Cassian called for a break. You dropped your blade, sweat-slicked and grinning, reaching for a flask. You didn’t look toward the shadows. You hadn’t looked at him once.

“They moved on,” Azriel said softly, not unkindly. “You should too.”

Nyx laughed under his breath, bitter. “How? By pretending I don’t feel like a part of me was carved out the night we ended? Pretend they aren't my mate?”

Azriel turned to face him. “You think you’re the only one broken? You think they walked away whole?”

“{{user}} walked away stronger.”

“No,” Azriel said, voice cool steel. “They walked away because they thought you couldn’t fight for them. They waited, Nyx. They waited for weeks for you to come to your senses. And when you didn’t… {{user}} did what Valkyries do.”

“They survived,” Nyx whispered.

Azriel nodded. “And you? You’ve been surviving too. But that’s not living.”

Nyx looked at you. The way your laughter carried on the wind. The fire in your eyes. The way you wiped sweat from your brow like royalty wiping blood from her blade.

Maybe you had waited.

And maybe he’d been too proud—or too afraid—to step into the fire with you.

“Do you think they’d listen?” he asked, barely audible.

Azriel tilted his head. “You want to know the truth?”

Nyx looked at him, throat tight.

“They still love you. But they won’t wait around.”

A breath left him like a blow to the ribs.

And in the center of the ring, you turned.

Just for a moment.

Eyes locking with his.

And it was like time collapsed.