We didn't talk about Kael after that.
Not because it was forbidden—but because it no longer needed to be processed out loud. His presence had slipped cleanly into the past, not festering, not lingering. Just… done.
The land stretched wide ahead of us, the air warm with late afternoon sun, cicadas humming lazily from the brush. The tension that had followed us for days loosened its grip—not disappearing, but easing into something quieter.
I walked a little ahead for a while, enjoying the rhythm of my own steps, the steady beat of breath in my chest. For the first time in a long while, my body didn't feel braced for impact.
It felt inhabited.
Alaric caught up to me without hurry, matching my pace as if he'd always been meant to walk there.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," I replied. "Better than I expected."
He nodded, accepting the answer without probing further.
That was his way.
Rowan and Silas trailed behind us, close enough that I could feel their presence without being crowded. Rowan's energy was relaxed again, humor slowly resurfacing. Silas remained watchful, but his tension had softened into something steadier.
We stopped near a low stream as the sun dipped lower, deciding to rest before pushing on. The water was shallow, clear enough to see smooth stones beneath the surface.
Rowan immediately kicked off his boots. "If anyone needs me, I'll be pretending I'm not sore."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "You are sore."
"Details," Rowan replied, wading in with a hiss as the cold water hit his ankles.
I smiled faintly and knelt at the bank, trailing my fingers through the water. The coolness grounded me instantly.
Alaric remained standing nearby, gaze flicking between the horizon and me.
"You don't have to stay on watch," I said gently.
"I know," he replied. "I want to."
The words settled warm in my chest.
After a while, Rowan splashed back out of the stream, shaking water from his hands. "Alright, I'm officially refreshed and only mildly dramatic."
Silas snorted quietly.
Rowan glanced between me and Alaric, then raised both hands. "I'm going to gather wood. Alone. So no one can accuse me of hovering."
"Appreciated," Silas said dryly.
Rowan grinned and disappeared into the trees.
Silas lingered a moment longer, then nodded toward the opposite bank. "I'll scout upstream."
"Be careful," I said automatically.
He met my gaze. "Always."
When he left, the space around me shifted.
Not empty.
Focused.
Alaric lowered himself onto a stone near the water, close enough that our knees nearly brushed. He didn't look at me immediately, gaze instead following the slow movement of the stream.
The bond hummed faintly—not urgent, not insistent.
Present.
"You don't need to say anything," he said quietly.
"I know," I replied. "But I want to."
He turned then, giving me his full attention.
"I've been thinking about what you said," I continued. "About not wanting to rush. About choosing without fear."
His expression softened slightly. "Yes."
"I've never been very good at… first steps," I admitted. "They were usually taken for me."
Alaric's jaw tightened briefly—not in anger, but understanding.
"I don't want that anymore," I said. "I don't want to look back and wonder if I avoided something just because it felt unfamiliar."
He waited.
Not moving.
Not leaning in.
Just… waiting.
"I don't want to promise anything I can't define yet," I added. "But I want to acknowledge what's here."
The air between us felt charged—not sharp, not overwhelming. Intentional.
"I'm listening," he said.
I took a breath, then reached out—slowly, deliberately—and rested my hand on his forearm.
The contact was light.
Exploratory.
A question, not a demand.
His muscles tensed just slightly under my touch, but he didn't move. Didn't close the distance. Didn't take control.
He let me decide what the touch meant.
"That," I said softly, "is the first step I'm choosing."
His breath shifted—quiet, controlled.
"Then I'll meet you there," he replied.
He didn't place his hand over mine.
He didn't pull me closer.
He simply stayed still—present—allowing the moment to exist exactly as it was.
The bond reacted—not with panic, not with jealousy.
With alignment.
A warmth spread through my chest, steady and calm.
I withdrew my hand after a few seconds—not because I needed to, but because I wanted to leave the moment intact.
Alaric didn't look disappointed.
He looked… satisfied.
"That was enough," he said quietly.
"Yes," I agreed. "It was."
Footsteps crunched nearby then.
Rowan reappeared, arms full of wood, eyebrows lifting when he took in the scene.
He didn't comment.
He simply set the wood down and gave me a look that was equal parts teasing and sincere.
"Everything good?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
He smiled. "Cool."
Silas returned shortly after, gaze flicking between us, sharp enough to notice the shift.
He didn't ask questions.
He just nodded once.
The fire was built as the sky darkened, the four of us settling into familiar positions around it. The dynamic had changed—but not fractured.
Rowan leaned closer to me again, bumping my knee lightly. "For the record," he murmured, "I like that you didn't hide that."
"I wasn't trying to," I replied.
"Good," he said. "Means we're doing this right."
Silas spoke from across the fire. "Doing what, exactly?"
I smiled faintly. "Being honest."
Silas considered that, then nodded. "Then yes. We are."
The night unfolded gently after that. Conversation drifted easily, laughter returning in quiet bursts. The world beyond the fire felt distant—not threatening, not urgent.
Later, when sleep crept in again, we settled into rest.
Not paired.
Not divided.
Just together.
I lay beneath the stars, cloak pulled close, body warm with the memory of chosen touch.
The bond hummed softly.
Not dominant.
Not broken.
Integrated.
Somewhere in the distance, forces would move. Questions would sharpen. The world would continue to test what I was becoming.
But for now—
I had taken a step.
Not because I was pushed.
Not because I was afraid of standing still.
But because I wanted to know what it felt like to move forward on my own terms.
And that, I knew with quiet certainty, was how everything real began.