Temptation
Dana's POV
My head felt unbearably heavy as I forced my eyes open. Disorientation washed over me, followed by a sharp, pounding migraine that chipped away at my thoughts. It felt as though my mind had been dragged through mud.
The first thing I saw was Doya.
His eyes were filled with worry, etched so deeply into his face that my chest tightened. He looked exhausted, like someone who had not rested at all.
"Dana… are you alright?" he whispered.
I wanted to answer, truly, but my mouth felt thick and uncooperative, as if forming words required more strength than I possessed. When I finally spoke, my voice barely carried.
"I'm sorry."
The words scraped painfully down my throat, leaving a burning ache behind. Doya pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me, relief evident in the way he held me.
"I'm so glad you're alright," he murmured near my ear.
But the pressure of his body sent a sharp jolt of pain through me, like a thousand pins digging into my skin. I winced in pain. He noticed immediately and loosened his hold.
"I'm so sorry," worry laced his voice.
"W-Water" I croaked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Immediately, I watched Doya leave the room to get me water. As soon as I was alone, I tried to sit up, needing to understand where I was. My body protested fiercely, aches flaring everywhere at once. My head throbbed harder, and a sudden pain gripped my eyes, blurring my vision as the world tilted.
Where was I?
Everything felt strange. Fragments of my memory surfaced. The last thing I remember was a figure holding me mid-air and draining all the energy I had left in me.
Who was that?
Could that have been Balshak?
Just as I was trying to piece possible scenarios in my head, Doya returned with water, and behind him stood a guy I vaguely recognised.
The bear guy.
Doya handed me the water, I drank greedily, the cool liquid grounding me just enough to speak again.
"Thank you," I said softly to Doya.
Then I turned my gaze to the other guy. "I know you. You're the one who killed that bear."
"The name's Kumbuye," he said, stepping forward and offering his hand.
I stared at it but did not take it. My body refused. He seemed to understand and withdrew without comment.
"How are you feeling?" Doya asked.
"Awful," I admitted. "But I'll survive."
That was when I noticed the white cloth wrapped tightly around his stomach, stained faintly with blood.
"Are you hurt?" My heart sank.
"Don't mind me," he replied gently. "Just focus on getting better."
The guilt hit me like a blow. I had dragged him into this mess. Hurt him. And yet he stood there pretending it didn't matter.
A woman stepped in, holding a cup. "This potion will help strengthen you."
Before I could reach for it, Doya took the cup and brought it to my lips. The taste was vile, thick and bitter, crawling down my throat, but I swallowed it anyway if it truly helped.
"Are you alright?" Doya asked as I swallowed the last drop.
"I still feel like shit," I muttered. "It might take a while for the potion to kick in."
"Please could you give us a minute." Doya said calmly to the lady and Kumbuye indicating for them to leave the room.
When they stepped outside, Doya's voice sharpened, low but controlled.
"I was terrified, Dana."
I swallowed. "Who are these people?"
"They are the ones we met yesterday before going to Balshak's fortress. They've been very hospitable so far."
"And Giselle?" Even after the betrayal, my thoughts still reached for her.
Doya's face darkened. "Captured, I think. I couldn't bring her."
A flicker of worry stirred in me, unwanted and sharp, and I crushed it at once.
"Where are we?"
"They call this place Krythmoor. We're still inside the Invincible Cliff."
Dread coiled in my stomach. My breath hitched, fear creeping in fast. Doya caught the look on my face and spoke quickly, trying to steady me.
"Once you regain some strength, I'm getting us out of here, alright?"
Something about the place unsettled me. The air, the people, everything felt wrong.
"You know that guy? Kumbuye," Doya asked.
"I've seen him. Once. The day I left with Bali…" My voice trailed off.
Bali.
Oh no. She was still at the cliff's edge. A sharp wave of worry hit me. I hoped she was safe.
"You were saying?" Doya prompted, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I saw him two days ago, when I left you and Giselle and rode off with Bali."
As I spoke, it dawned on me that I had been in the Labyrinth for only three days, yet everyone around me had suffered because of it. Maybe destruction really did trail after me wherever I went.
"Thank you for getting me out of there," I said at last, turning to Doya. I did not want to sound ungrateful. "I'm sorry I put you in danger."
"Dana, it's alright," he said gently. "You're safe. That's all that matters to me."
I looked down at his stomach, at the wound beneath the cloth. "You're hurt," I said quietly. "Let me use the healing spell on you. It won't fix everything, but it might ease the pain, at least a little."
Then I muttered the healing spell, but nothing happened.
I tried again, still nothing.
And again.
Confusion surged through me. That wasn't possible, I was doing everything right.
I tried once more, almost screaming the spell in frustration, but still nothing. No power moved through me. It was as though I had none to channel.
Doya held my hands, his eyes locking with mine, and whispered:
"It's okay, don't beat yourself up. I'll be fine."
I knew he would be fine eventually, but I wasn't. My powers weren't working.
"My powers aren't working, something is wrong with me." I said to Doya, panic settling in my chest.
He leaned closer, trying to calm me, but he didn't understand. I was nothing without my powers. What had that hooded figure done to me?
"I think he took my powers." Tears burned at the edges of my eyes as I whispered.
"Balshak didn't take your powers, Dana. Relax," Doya said.
"That was Balshak?" Fear tightened my chest as I asked.
"Yes. And you need to breathe. He didn't take your powers," he assured me.
"How can you be so sure?" I pressed, panic creeping in. "I don't feel anything in me. I can't channel. Something is wrong."
"You're probably just stressed," he said again, trying to steady me.
"No," I said sharply. "It's not stress. I felt it yesterday. He drained my powers. I felt them leaving me."
By then, my heart was pounding so loudly it felt as if it echoed from my chest.
I was devastated. My thoughts spiralled, and the same question kept clawing at me.
Why is everything always taken from me?
My mind drifted to everything I had lost — people, pieces of myself, and now my powers. I hadn't even been given time to breathe. And now the one thing that made me feel important, that made me feel like I mattered, had been stripped away.
"Dana… if you truly believe your powers are gone, let's go to my temple," Doya said. "There might be a solution."
But his face betrayed him. Doya wasn't someone who lied easily, so why was he lying now?
"Why are you lying to me?" I asked slowly.
"Dana—"
"No, tell me," I cut in, my voice rising. "You just want me to come with you to your temple, don't you?"
"Dana, please, listen to me," he said. "Yes, I want you to come with me to my temple. But beyond that, there may be a solution to what's happening to you."
He watched my face, searching for any sign of hope. "There are powerful sorcerers there who might be able to help you."
Desperation flared inside me. If there was even a chance, I had no choice. I wanted my powers back, I needed them.
"Alright then," I said quietly. "We leave at first light."
It was already deep into the evening when music drifted in from outside the hut.
"What's that?" I asked, curiosity stirring.
"I don't know. Let me check," Doya said.
He stood and pulled on a tunic — one Kumbuye must have given him. Before he could leave, I spoke quickly.
"I'll come with you."
I pushed myself to my feet, leaning forward despite the sharp stab of pain. Doya reached to steady me, but I nudged him aside. I could walk on my own. I wasn't some helpless lady.
The moment we came out of the hut, beneath the watchful stars, the bard's tune carried through the night as he told the tale of the Guardians of old, of those who had risen in glory and fallen into legend, and the villagers listened in hushed reverence. Before long, their voices joined his. Laughter followed, then dancing, bodies circling the campfire at the centre of it all.
They were happy.
The thought stung. How could they be so happy when I wasn't?
A voice snapped me out of it.
"Come on, join us!" Kumbuye said, grabbing both Doya and me and pulling us into the crowd.
It was awkward. Doya was clearly uninterested. I was too. Still, we forced smiles and pretended. Doya blended in easily, he knew the songs, the words rolling off his tongue. I didn't know any of them. Some of the songs were sung in a foreign language, perhaps the old tongue of the Labyrinth, one I had never heard and did not understand.
After a while, I slipped away to get a drink, hoping it might quiet the storm of thoughts clawing at my mind.
The brew was dark and thick, poured into a rough clay cup, its scent sharp with fermented grapes and wild herbs. The first taste was bittersweet, a pleasant bite at the tongue, followed by a deep, fruity warmth that lingered longer than expected. It was good, really good and strong.
The strength revealed itself quickly. After only a few mouthfuls, heat bloomed in my chest, spreading outward, loosening my limbs and dulling my pain as if the drink had found my blood all at once. My thoughts slowed, the world tilting just slightly, the edges of sound and sight softening. It was the kind of brew that did not wait for excess, its effect came fast, heavy and unmistakable, a reminder that it was meant for endurance and hardship, not for idle pleasure.
I staggered, struggling to keep myself upright. The world spun wildly around me. Where was Doya?
I pushed through the crowd, searching for him, but my steps were unsteady. As I lurched forward, I nearly fell, but a strong hand caught me from behind.
"Looks like someone had a bit too much to drink," Kumbuye whispered in my ear.
I tried to shove him off, but my weak limbs betrayed me. He held me steady and guided me back to one of the huts — the same one I'd first been in.
"W-Where's my friend?" I finally managed to ask.
"He's fine," Kumbuye replied smoothly, trying to reassure me. "Probably enjoying himself outside."
He was awfully close to me as he set me down. I sank onto the wooden floor, the rough planks scraping my legs, and for a moment I let myself sway, dizzy from the brew I hadn't meant to drink so quickly. The room spun just enough to blur the edges of everything, but when I looked at him, the haze didn't matter. He was close, closer than I expected, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, feel it in the space between us.
He leaned in slowly, his gaze dropping to my lips, giving me space to pull back. I didn't. My breath hitched as his lips met mine, hesitant at first, testing, and then deeper, more insistent. His hands found my face, cupping it gently, thumbs tracing over my cheeks, over the curve of my jaw. I melted into the touch, my head tilting slightly, my lips pressing against his as if I had no choice. Instinctively, my hands reached up, tangling in his thick, rope-like hair. The strands were dense and textured, each lock slipping easily through my fingers as if I were holding part of him in my grasp.
I should stop. I barely knew him. I should care about the rules, about what I thought I wanted. But the pull of him, the warmth, the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, it was dizzying, intoxicating. I liked it. God, I liked it, and that scared me more than anything.
The kiss dragged on, slow and consuming, and I felt my knees press against the floor, my fingers trembling as they clutched at his arms. Every brush of his lips sent jolts through me, every gentle caress of his hands made me shiver, uncertain, aching. I didn't know if I liked him… or just this feeling, this dizzy, hazy heat.
The hut seemed to shrink, the candles flickering against the walls but all I could feel was him. The world outside disappeared. When we finally pulled apart, my lips tingled, my heart was hammering, I couldn't catch my breath. I stared at him, unsure, muddled, lost in the haze of warmth and desire, wondering if I'd ever understand what I felt or if I even wanted to.
We held each other's gaze, awkward but intense. He smiled, a small, knowing curve that told me he had liked the kiss as much as I had. My heart fluttered at the sight of that smile, so beautiful and bright. He held my eyes for a moment longer, just long enough before Doya entered the hut.
I froze the moment the hut door creaked open, the heat of Kumbuye still lingering on my skin, my pulse hammering in my ears. My gaze landed on Doya, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable at first, but the sharp edge in his eyes spoke volumes of annoyance, suspicion, and that familiar worry he always carried for me.
He didn't say anything, just stared, taking in the way Kumbuye and I had been pressed close together. My chest tightened. I wanted to disappear into the floor, to erase the memory of how good it had felt to be near Kumbuye. The guilt coiled around me like a rope.
"I've been looking for you," Doya said at last, his voice low, steady, though there was something underneath it I couldn't name. Jealousy, maybe, flickering in the tension of his jaw. "You… you look flushed. Is everything—"
I shook my head, my fingers digging into my knees as if holding onto myself would hide my shame. "I'm fine," I whispered, but the words sounded hollow. I wanted to explain that nothing had happened, that he had nothing to worry about but how could I confess that the closeness had stirred something in me, something I wasn't supposed to feel?
Kumbuye shifted beside me, silent, aware of Doya's presence but careful not to speak. I sank further to the floor, hoping the tension would dissolve if I made myself small enough. My cheeks burned, my heart a mess of guilt and confusion.
Doya stepped closer, and I felt the pull of his concern, the way he always seemed to want to shield me from the world. It made the guilt twist even deeper. I wanted to meet his eyes, to reassure him, but I couldn't. Not with the lingering echo of Kumbuye pressed against me, warm and tantalizing.
"You're not hurt, are you?" Doya asked softly, inching closer, his eyes scanning me with that mixture of care and quiet jealousy.
"No," I said quickly, too quickly, my voice trembling. "I'm fine."
But I wasn't. And I knew he could sense it, even if he didn't say it. The closeness, the way Kumbuye had held me, he didn't see the kiss, but he didn't need to. Something unspoken had shifted, and it was enough to stir a storm in Doya's gaze.
"Um… I think I should leave," Kumbuye said suddenly, breaking the tense silence.
He walked out immediately. I met Doya's eyes. Confusion flickered there, but he stayed quiet, unsure of what to say. His concern, though, was clear. Slowly, he muttered:
"Are you sure you're alright?"
Guilt pricked me. Doya cared so much. We weren't together, not in the way I imagined, but his loyalty was unwavering. I felt like I owed him more than I could repay.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, my voice slurring slightly.
"You're drunk," he said plainly, then added, "You should sleep now. Remember, we leave at first light."
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Author's note:
*Visual reference for Kumbuye below*