The room was quiet, but it was not calm.
Zeythara stood by the window, looking out. Dawn painted the sky like a promise left unfinished. There was no lightning. She had chosen not to summon it. Right now, she needed clarity, not power.
Behind her, she could feel Kaelric's presence. He wasn't moving closer. This wasn't retreat—
the distance was intentional.
"I'm not going to try to make sense of it," Kaelric said.
His voice was flat. No defense in it.
Zeythara didn't turn around.
"There's nothing to make sense of," she replied.
"Not everything has to mean something."
Kaelric took a short breath. She didn't see his smile, but she felt it.
"That's not how people usually tell it," he said.
"When something happens between two people, it's supposed to need a label."
Zeythara turned to him for the first time. Her gaze was sharp, but untroubled.
"I'm not human," she said.
"And I don't owe anyone an explanation for who I'm with, when, or why."
Kaelric weighed the answer.
He liked it.
Not because it challenged him—
but because it was free.
"It's not a burden for me either," he said.
"Leaving a possibility behind in the body of a god… I wouldn't refuse that."
Zeythara raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You're not being romantic," she said.
"I'm not," Kaelric agreed.
"I'm being honest."
Another silence settled between them. But this time, there was no tension. Instead, there was something unshaped. Neither a bond, nor a break.
Zeythara walked past him. She didn't brush his shoulder. Deliberately.
The absence of touch was more noticeable than the night before.
"This isn't something that will repeat," she said.
"At least, it won't become a habit."
Kaelric looked at her.
"So is it forbidden?"
Zeythara stopped. Turned back. She smiled—but this time it wasn't fiery. It was sharp.
"I never forbid anything," she said.
"Those who want to stay, stay.
Those who don't, leave."
Kaelric didn't answer.
And he didn't leave.