It began before they closed their eyes.
A pull.
A pressure.
Like something beneath the skin was humming—low and urgent, vibrating between two bodies no longer sure where one ended and the other began.
Elara lay against Kael's chest, her ear tuned to the quiet rhythm of his heart.
Kael's hand rested on her waist, fingers barely touching her hip bone, as if too much pressure might shatter the fragile truce between them.
Neither of them spoke.
But they didn't need to.
Because in that silence—
They fell asleep.
And fell into the same dream.
The sky was on fire.
Not burning—but bleeding, thick crimson clouds boiling over a cracked horizon.
Elara stood barefoot on blackened stone, the air heavy with smoke and memory. Her dress was scorched at the hem. Her palms were bleeding.
Behind her, the ruins of a house—her house—crackled and moaned, devoured by flame.
She turned.
And saw him.
Kael.
Wreathed in smoke.
His chest bare, his hair damp, the sigils across his torso glowing with soft, molten light. He walked barefoot across the ash, expression unreadable.
"You came," she whispered.
"I always come when you burn."
He reached her.
And kissed her.
No warning.
No hesitation.
Just heat—consuming, devouring.
His mouth crushed hers like a man starved of breath and desperate for air. His hands cradled her jaw, thumbs brushing soot from her cheek as if trying to erase the parts of her touched by fire.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
And still—he kissed her.
Harder.
Deeper.
The ground beneath them split.
Flames rose like a wall.
Elara gasped into his mouth.
But Kael only held her tighter.
"I'm not afraid of the fire," he said. "I'm afraid of waking up without you."
The ground crumbled.
They fell.
Together.
They landed hard—in their real bodies.
Elara jolted awake, heart pounding, breath ragged.
Kael's eyes snapped open a heartbeat later.
He was already touching his lips.
She touched hers.
They were sore.
And burning.
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Kael was the first to move.
He scrambled upright, searching the barn, his chest heaving.
Elara followed, confused. "Kael?"
"No. No, no, no—" He grabbed the silver water basin and splashed it across his arms.
His skin hissed.
"Stop it!" she grabbed him, yanking the basin away.
He turned on her—eyes wild.
"I kissed you in the dream."
"So?"
"So I felt it here. Now."
"I did too."
He stared at her, terrified.
"Don't you get it? That wasn't a memory. That wasn't a dream. That was a convergence."
"A what?"
"A soul tie."
Elara blinked.
"That's a myth."
"No," Kael said hoarsely. "It's a curse. A forbidden form of binding. It's why the old kings never took mates. Because if your soul ties to someone—if the bond grows past blood—it becomes fate. Unbreakable."
Elara swallowed.
Hard.
"And what, exactly, is so terrifying about fate?"
Kael laughed, bitter and raw. "You don't understand. If I die, you follow. If you die, I lose control. We cease to be separate. We stop being individuals. We become one."
She stepped toward him.
He backed away.
"Don't," he said. "I'm losing the line."
"What line?"
"The one that tells me whether I want you because I choose you… or because the bond demands it."
Elara's voice dropped.
"You don't want me?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
"You kissed me. You dreamed me. You burned with me."
Still silence.
"You don't fear losing me," she said. "You fear belonging to me."
Kael's breath stuttered.
"You're wrong," he said softly.
"Then say it."
"I'm not afraid of belonging to you."
"Then what?"
He looked at her—really looked at her—and said, "I'm afraid the dream was real. And I'll never be able to kiss you again without it meaning everything."
Elara's breath caught.
Because she understood.
This wasn't just lust anymore.
This was gravity.
This was inevitability.
She moved toward him again—slow, measured.
Until their foreheads touched.
"You already belong to me," she whispered. "But I won't take anything you don't give."
Kael exhaled.
Long. Shaky.
And whispered back, "I'd give you the whole world, if I wasn't sure it'd burn down with me."
They didn't sleep again that night.
Instead, they sat side by side on the floor of the barn.
Watching the dawn bleed into the sky.
Their fingers barely brushing.
Hearts already tangled.