The ash drifted heavier today.

  It thickened the air, muffling every step against the brittle ground — like walking across old bones.

  Astrid pulled her cloak tighter and followed Kurai, matching his pace without thinking.

  The black glass veins streaking through the land pulsed faintly as they moved — slow and deep, like a heartbeat far below the surface.

  Sometimes, she thought the ash itself shifted differently around him.

  Not random like it did for her.

  But suspended.

  Almost reverent.

  They hadn’t spoken much that morning.

  The silence wasn’t heavy with anger or distance anymore.

  It was something closer to waiting.

  Like they both knew something was coming.

  Like the land itself was stirring under their feet.

  ---

  Later, when the light began to dim into gray dusk, they stopped to make camp.

  A shallow hollow between cracked ridges offered just enough shelter from the ash-choked wind.

  Kurai lit a small fire — slow, careful movements — and they sat close.

  Not touching.

  But close enough their boots brushed sometimes.

  It feels like we’re just walking endlessly, Astrid thought.

  The volcanoes loomed ahead, but every step still felt like getting nowhere.

  ---

  Astrid watched him from the corner of her eye — the firelight casting long shadows over the sharp bones of his face, the hollows under his eyes.

  There was a tension in him tonight.

  Tighter.

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  Coiled.

  Finally, she broke the silence, voice low:

  "Kurai... what’s going on in that head of yours? You seem like your mind’s running a million miles an hour."

  He glanced sharply at her, then back to the fire.

  For a second, she thought he wouldn’t answer.

  Then — quietly, almost like admitting it to himself:

  "It’s this place.

  I’ve always felt... different.

  Not just because of how I look.

  Because of what’s inside me."

  He picked up a loose stone, turning it absently between his fingers.

  "As I got older, it got worse. Stronger.

  At first, it was just sparks. Cracks in the ground when I got angry."

  He hesitated.

  Then:

  "But then... it felt like fire living under my skin. Constant. Waiting."

  Astrid stayed quiet, letting him find the words.

  "I think I always knew I was connected to them.

  The dragons."

  He tossed the stone into the fire — it cracked sharply in the heat.

  "But I didn’t want it to be true.

  I didn’t want to be seen as a monster."

  His hands tightened against his knees.

  "So I shoved it down. Buried it. Pretended it wasn’t real."

  There was anger there now — not just fear.

  Kurai’s mouth twisted, bitter.

  "I spent years hiding from it.

  And it still found me."

  Astrid’s chest tightened.

  He wasn’t just afraid.

  He was furious.

  Furious at the world.

  At himself.

  Maybe even at her, for being the reminder that pretending wasn’t enough anymore.

  ---

  He kept talking — voice low, rough-edged.

  "When I was a kid — back in the hidden city — there was a festival. Lanterns. Music."

  He gave a humorless laugh.

  "And a boy who thought it’d be funny to pull my tail."

  Astrid winced.

  "I snapped."

  His fists clenched.

  "The flames came.

  I couldn’t stop them.

  I almost burned the whole place down."

  The fire between them cracked sharply, as if remembering too.

  ---

  "They didn’t see a boy after that," Kurai said, voice hollow. "They saw a monster."

  "They banished me. Locked the gates. Left me outside."

  He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion raw and frustrated.

  "Myrren tried to help.

  Tried to let me stay if I ‘proved myself.’"

  He shook his head.

  "But one mistake — one — and that door slammed shut."

  Astrid’s throat ached.

  That’s what it was all about.

  Why the elves treated him like a threat.

  Why he was willing to risk everything to help me.

  He used his only chance to help me.

  ---

  "But your magic doesn’t hurt me," she said quietly. "Remember? When you lost control... I didn’t burn."

  Kurai gave a twisted smile — not bitter at her, but at himself.

  "It’s not the magic," he said.

  "It’s the destruction that comes with it."

  He met her eyes — gold flickering like embers in the dark.

  "You might not burn, Astrid.

  But you can still be crushed if the walls fall.

  You can still choke if the smoke fills the air.

  You can still die if the world breaks around you."

  Ash drifted between them, slow and heavy.

  "You’re immune to magic," he said. "But you’re not invincible.

  Not from me."

  ---

  Astrid’s chest hurt — not from fear.

  From the sheer, aching weight of how much he cared.

  How much he hated himself for it.

  He carries so much.

  More than he’ll ever let show.

  Just like me.

  ---

  She didn’t move away.

  Instead, she leaned forward — resting her arms on her knees — and looked straight at him.

  Steady.

  Solid.

  "Then we’ll figure it out together," she said.

  Simple.

  True.

  ---

  For a long moment, Kurai didn’t respond.

  But the knot in his shoulders loosened.

  Just a little.

  The smallest breath of relief.

  They sat like that as the world dimmed into ash and dusk — just two stubborn, broken people choosing not to be alone anymore.

  ---

  Later, as they doused the fire and settled down to sleep, Astrid caught a flicker at the edge of her vision.

  Movement.

  Low to the ground.

  Fast.

  Eyes gleamed briefly from the ash — not human.

  Not kind.

  Gone before she could blink.

  They weren’t alone anymore.

  And whatever was out there...

  it was waiting.