Talo didn't move for a long time.
He stared at the bodies — the blood, the torn moss, the broken stillness of the clearing. He'd expected to feel relief.
Instead, something else pressed in.
Heavy.
Hollow.
The memory of the Shadowmaw surfaced — the helplessness in his chest as he watched her fall, the panic that cracked his resolve. That feeling had driven him to train harder. To fight better. To protect her.
But this?
This was different.
Tonight, he hadn't even had the chance.
He hadn't been strong enough to help.
He'd watched her become something more — something fierce, unstoppable, radiant in her wrath — and all he could do was bleed and bear witness.
It wasn't awe.
It wasn't envy.
It was shame.
And it burned.
A subtle hum stirred inside him — not his own.
The Fire Spirit.
Since Rasha had left a spark within him, he'd carried it. A warmth. A presence.
But now, that warmth shifted.
Not a voice. Not a command.
Just a feeling.
Unworthy.
The spirit wasn't angry. But it recoiled.
His weakness had been seen.
He clenched his fist.
Then opened it.
A thin thread of flame curled into being above his palm — flickering, pale.
"I'm not worthy of this power," he whispered. "Not being this weak."
The flame wavered.
Diminished.
Then disappeared.
His hand went cold.
Empty.
For a beat, he just stared at it.
And then—
A touch.
Warm.
Grounding.
Rasha took his hand in both of hers — firm, deliberate, steadying him.
She didn't speak at first. Just stood with him in the hush that followed blood and fear.
Then she met his gaze.
Her voice was quiet. Certain.
"You are worthy."
Talo didn't flinch.
He held her eyes, searching.
"I don't need you to be the strongest," Rasha said. "I don't need you to carry everything. I need you to stand with me. To remind me who I am when I forget. To be here. With me."
The flame sparked again in his palm — a sliver of gold.
It held.
Talo let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His shoulders sagged. Some deep, unspoken tension inside him cracked and softened.
He didn't look away.
Neither did she.
Rasha was the first to break the silence.
Her voice was low, rough at the edges.
"I don't think you should ever feel unworthy. Or incapable of helping me."
She looked down at their joined hands.
"What just happened out there… it wasn't control. It wasn't discipline. I wasn't choosing those movements. They just — came."
She swallowed.
"I don't even know if I could do it again. Not like that. My body remembers. But my mind wasn't there."
Her fingers squeezed his gently.
"That means we can't rely on it. Not yet. But us? Fighting together? That's real. That's something we can grow. Shape. Trust."
She hesitated, then added softly:
"And I believe — in time — I might learn to master it. That power. And you might too."
Her gaze drifted to the shallow wound on his back. The drying blood. The flickering flame in his hand.
"I know this much — that fire inside me didn't awaken until I saw you get hurt. That's when everything changed."
Her voice cracked — just slightly — then steadied.
"I don't think the spirit will ever let me stand still while you're in danger."
Talo blinked.
Emotion surged behind his eyes — not tears, but pressure.
He looked at the flame again. It burned brighter now.
"For the first time," he said, "I actually felt him."
Rasha tilted her head.
"The spirit?"
He nodded slowly.
"He didn't speak. But… he felt masculine. Watching me. Judging. Disappointed."
Rasha's brow furrowed. A shiver passed through her.
"I… might know why."
He glanced up.
"I had a dream. Before you woke me."
She spoke quietly, reverently.
"The spirit was whole. She said something was changing — that this place was affecting her. Making her instincts more aggressive. She even remembered fragments of an old war. One that was fought here, a long time ago."
She hesitated.
"She warned me to stay rooted. Or we might become something we're not."
Talo's gaze returned to the flicker in his hand.
"That means…" he said slowly, "We have to protect each other's spirits."
He looked at her.
His voice, soft — but resolute.
"I'll protect yours. And you protect mine."
Rasha smiled — a real smile. Small. Warm. Something deep in her chest eased.
"That sounds fair," she said. "Though I think I'm getting the better end of the deal."
Talo let out a breath — half laugh, half sigh.
"Yeah… I don't think I'm getting any sleep tonight."
"Probably for the best," she replied. "It's much more dangerous at night."
Her gaze drifted beyond the clearing — to the black veil of trees and the cold stillness of the eastern dark.
"Let's keep moving," she said. "Once the sun comes up, we'll find a place to rest."
Talo nodded.
And they didn't say anything else.
Silently, they packed up what little they'd laid out. Rasha rolled her blanket, steady hands brushing off ash. Talo doused the fire, smoke curling upward into the dark.
The last flickers of flame vanished.
Ash drifted into the trees.
The clearing — moments ago a battleground — returned to silence.
Not peace.
But silence.
They slung their packs over their shoulders. Talo adjusted his strap with a wince, but said nothing.
Side by side, they stepped beyond the remnants of their camp —
And into the dark.