The wound closed too slowly.
Aira sat on the edge of the narrow bed inside the watchtower, her palm wrapped in clean linen that had already begun to stain red again. The pain was sharp, insistent, a reminder that no amount of power could erase her humanity.
Raven knelt before her, jaw tight as he rewound the bandage for the third time.
"You're healing," he said, though his tone carried no comfort. "Just not fast enough."
"Because I blocked the blade instead of dissolving it," Aira replied quietly. "I hesitated."
Raven's hands stilled.
"No," he said firmly. "You chose restraint. That's different."
She laughed softly, without humor. "It nearly got me killed."
"It saved your life," he corrected. "If you had unleashed everything, the tower and half the district, would be ash."
Aira looked down at her trembling fingers. "So the world breaks if I lose control… and I bleed if I don't."
"Yes," Raven said. "That is the burden of balance."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken fear.
The storm outside worsened, rain lashing against the tower windows like impatient fingers. Lightning illuminated Raven's face in sharp flashes, every line, every shadow carved deeper by worry he refused to voice.
"You didn't tell me the Hunters could hurt me," Aira said at last.
Raven exhaled slowly. "I hoped they wouldn't find you so soon."
"That's not an answer."
He met her gaze then, dark eyes burning. "Because if you had known, you might have chosen differently."
"Chosen what?" she demanded. "To run?"
"To seal yourself," he said quietly. "To become something untouchable. Something… less human."
Aira's chest tightened. "You mean something you could lose without destroying yourself."
The words landed like a blade.
Raven looked away.
"I've already lost you once," he said. "I will not survive it again."
Aira stood abruptly, ignoring the pain flaring through her palm.
"You don't get to decide that," she said fiercely. "You don't get to decide what parts of me are worth saving."
Raven rose as well, shadows reacting violently to his anger. "And you don't get to gamble with your life as if it's only yours!"
The air between them crackled.
Aira took a step back, eyes blazing. "This is exactly why I didn't want you shielding me."
"I am bound to you," he snapped. "Your pain echoes in me. Your death"
"—would break you?" she finished softly.
Raven went still.
"Yes," he admitted.
The truth hung heavy between them.
Aira's anger faltered, replaced by something more dangerous, tenderness.
She stepped closer, placing her uninjured hand against his chest.
"That's why you're afraid," she said. "Not of the Hunters. Of loving me."
Raven's voice dropped to a whisper. "Love has never ended well for me."
Aira smiled sadly. "Then maybe you've only seen the wrong endings."
Before he could respond, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.
The room tilted.
Raven caught her instantly, pulling her into his arms.
"Aira!"
She clutched his coat, breath ragged. "Something's wrong."
The mark beneath her skin flared, hot, erratic.
Visions slammed into her mind without warning.
Fire consuming cities. Chains binding shadows. A throne carved from bone and light. And at its base, Raven, kneeling, bleeding, his eyes hollow.
She screamed.
The tower shook violently as power surged outward from her body, shattering glass and cracking stone.
Raven held her tighter, shadows wrapping around them both to contain the blast.
"Aira, focus on me!" he shouted. "This is a premonition!"
She gasped, clutching his shoulders. "I saw you—on your knees. Broken. Because of me."
Raven swallowed hard. "Visions are not fate."
"But they're warnings," she cried. "And that one felt real."
The storm outside intensified, thunder shaking the tower's foundation.
Raven cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Listen to me," he said fiercely. "I chose this bond long before you remembered it. Whatever future comes, we face it together."
Tears burned Aira's eyes. "What if together is what destroys us?"
Raven leaned his forehead against hers. "Then we destroy the world first."
A weak laugh escaped her despite the fear. "That's not comforting."
"I wasn't aiming for comfort," he murmured. "Only truth."
The mark finally dimmed, leaving her exhausted, shaking.
Raven carried her back to the bed and sat beside her, one hand never leaving hers.
"Sleep," he said softly. "Your power is still settling."
Aira hesitated. "What if I see more?"
"Then I'll be here when you wake."
She studied his face, the immortal warrior, the shadow-bound guardian, the man who had already lost her once.
"Promise me something," she said.
"Anything."
"If I start becoming something cruel… something unrecognizable…" Her voice broke. "You stop me."
Raven's grip tightened. "I would end the world before I ended you."
"That's not what I asked."
A long silence followed.
Finally, Raven nodded once. "I promise."
Relief and sorrow tangled in her chest.
As sleep pulled her under, Aira dreamed.
Not of fire.
Not of blood.
But of a fractured path, one where love and power twisted tighter and tighter until it was impossible to tell which would break first.
She woke hours later to silence.
The storm had passed. Dawn crept faintly through the cracked windows, painting the tower in pale gray light.
Raven was gone.
Panic surged instantly.
"Raven?" she called, pushing herself upright.
Her heart hammered as she stumbled toward the tower's upper level.
She found him standing at the highest window, staring out at the city with a stillness that felt wrong.
"You left," she said.
He didn't turn. "I needed air."
"You don't breathe," she snapped.
That made him glance back at her, a faint shadow of a smile flickering briefly before vanishing.
"I needed distance," he corrected.
Aira's chest tightened. "Because of the vision."
"Yes."
She moved closer. "It was only a possibility."
"So was your death," he said quietly. "Until it wasn't."
She stood beside him, following his gaze. The city below looked peaceful, unaware of the war gathering in its bones.
"I won't lock myself away," she said firmly. "And I won't let you push me out to protect me."
Raven's voice dropped. "And I won't let you become a martyr."
"Then stop acting like my fear is yours alone to carry."
He turned to face her fully then, eyes dark with conflict.
"You are becoming the axis of everything," he said. "Everyone will pull at you. Including me."
Aira reached for his hand. "Then hold tighter."
For a moment, it seemed like he might pull away.
Instead, he laced his fingers with hers.
The bond pulsed, steadier now, but heavier.
"Hunters will return," Raven said. "With allies."
"Good," Aira replied. "I want answers."
Raven studied her. "From whom?"
"From the one who created the Hunters," she said. "The one who benefits from testing me."
Raven's expression darkened.
"You're talking about the Sovereign."
Aira met his gaze unflinchingly. "Then it's time I met the architect of my suffering."
Raven tightened his grip. "That path leads straight into war."
She smiled, a sharp, determined curve of her lips.
"Then let it," she said. "Because I refuse to be shaped by fear."
Outside, the sun finally rose, thin and fragile, like hope.
But deep beneath the city, something ancient stirred, sensing the Keeper's resolve.
The fracture had begun.
Not between darkness and light
But between love and destiny.
And whichever broke first would decide the fate of everything.