Eira's POV
The forest beyond the Northern Wall was older than kingdoms.
No road marked their path. No stone warned intruders. Only cold — bone-deep and eternal — welcomed them as Kael guided their horse between frost-cloaked trees.
Eira sat behind him, her arms around his waist, her cheek resting on the warm leather of his back. The horse's breaths misted before them. Each crunch of hoof on snow sounded like a drumbeat in a hollow world.
She hadn't spoken since dawn.
Neither had he.
But the bond pulsed between them, ever-present, like a thread tied from her ribcage to his. When he shifted in the saddle, she felt the echo in her chest. When she blinked, she knew the rhythm of his heart.
It was unnatural. Unfair.
And somehow, beautiful.
"Tell me again," Kael said, breaking the silence, "why we're going to a place called Dorvin's Reach that no map dares include."
Eira smiled into his back. "Because no one will follow us there."
"Why?"
"Because it's haunted."
Kael glanced over his shoulder. "Haunted by what?"
"Ghosts. Memories. My past."
She felt him tense beneath her hands.
"And possibly a god."
Kael's POV
He wanted to laugh. Truly, he did.
But something in her voice made him pause.
Not teasing. Not even fearful.
Reverent.
"You're serious," he said.
"Dorvin's Reach was built atop a seer's grave," she replied. "She predicted the collapse of the Flame Courts before it happened. They say she bound herself to the land so she could whisper through time."
Kael processed that. Slowly.
"And you think this… seer… will help us?"
"I think," Eira said, "she already is."
They reached the clearing before he could answer.
At first glance, it was nothing. A break in the trees. Snow-covered stone. Icicles hanging like teeth from broken beams and frost-choked archways.
But when Kael stepped off the horse, something shifted.
The air pressed in tighter. The silence grew heavier. And the hairs on the back of his neck stood.
Magic. Old magic.
Eira dismounted behind him, her boots crunching beside his. She looked toward the ruin, and Kael saw her expression change — softening with familiarity and sadness.
"I haven't been here since my father died," she said.
Kael studied her. "You were raised here?"
"No. But this was where he taught me what I was. What I could be." She stepped toward the ruin, brushing her fingers over the frost-bitten stone of a fallen column. "It was the only place he could light a fire and not be hunted for it."
Kael followed her through the archway. As he crossed beneath it, his Mark flared — and so did hers.
The magic in the ruins recognized them.
Eira's POV
They lit a fire inside the main chamber, what had once been a great hall. The ceiling was broken, open to the gray sky above. Snow fell in gentle whispers, melting on impact with the rising heat.
Kael removed his cloak, spreading it across the floor. Eira sat beside him, the flames reflecting in his eyes like secrets he hadn't yet told.
"It's reacting to us," he murmured, nodding toward the Mark on his chest.
"It knows," she said. "The land. The seer. She made this place a sanctuary for bonded flame."
Kael frowned. "But I'm not flameborn."
"No," she said. "But I think you were always meant to burn."
He turned toward her, something unreadable in his expression.
"You speak like you've seen the end."
Eira held his gaze. "Maybe I have."
He reached out then, slowly, reverently, and brushed his knuckles along her jaw. "Then tell me how it ends."
"With fire," she whispered. "And blood."
Their mouths met again — not like before. Not rushed. Not born from battle.
This kiss was quiet. Holy. It asked instead of took. Her hand slid to the back of his neck, anchoring him. His other hand came to her waist, fingers splayed wide.
The bond flared.
Their Marks sang.
She pulled away only to whisper, "Let me show you what it means to be chosen by flame."
Kael's POV
She undressed without shame. Every layer fell like a secret offered.
Kael stared, breathless. Not because of her body — though gods, she was art incarnate — but because of the power in the way she stood before him, unafraid.
Unhidden.
Flame danced across her skin like a lover already touching her, tracing her collarbones, the dip of her waist, the curve of her thigh. And when he stepped forward, it welcomed him.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, felt her shiver.
His tunic dropped next. Then the rest.
When their bare skin met, it wasn't just heat. It was recognition.
Eira's hands slid across his chest, pausing over his Mark.
"I never thought I'd share this with anyone," she said, voice thick. "Never thought I'd live long enough to be seen."
Kael cupped her face.
"You're not just seen," he said. "You're wanted. Burned into me."
Their bodies met.
The bond ignited.
Not just passion — magic. Their flames and frost twisted together like vines around a single soul. The ruins trembled. A low hum pulsed through the stone beneath them.
Eira cried out — not from pain, but from release.
From freedom.
And Kael held her like she was the only thing left in the world worth saving.
Eira's POV
Later, she lay tangled in his arms, the fire beside them crackling low.
She felt him stroke her back in slow circles, his breath warm against her hair.
But something in the magic had shifted.
The bond wasn't just flaring now — it was settling. Like it had made a decision neither of them had been consulted for.
"I think it's permanent," she said softly.
Kael tensed beneath her. "The bond?"
She nodded.
"I thought it already was."
"No," she whispered. "It's evolving."
He didn't speak for a long moment.
Then: "Into what?"
She stared at the ruins overhead, snow drifting through the broken ceiling like stars falling.
"Into prophecy."
And as the fire dimmed, a voice — old and female, and not her own — whispered from the shadows:
"One born of fire. One born of frost. The flame that chooses ice will burn the world clean."
Eira sat up sharply.
Kael was already reaching for his blade.
But no one stood at the edge of the firelight.
Only shadows.
Only snow.
And the faint echo of a seer's ghost.