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Lyra could feel it in the air—something had shifted. Kael was beside her, but his presence felt colder, like a distant star whose warmth was no longer reaching her. His usual warmth was gone, and she hated that she could sense it.
"You've been quiet tonight," she said, her voice soft. She watched him closely, trying to catch a glimpse of the man she had come to know, but his eyes seemed far off, lost in some distant thought.
Kael's gaze flickered to her, then away. "I'm just tired," he replied, the words flat, lacking the usual affection.
She frowned. Something was off. "Tired of what?" Her words were gentle, but they carried weight. There was an edge to her concern now, one she hadn't felt before.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his fingers brushed against hers, but it wasn't the usual lingering touch. It was quick, fleeting—nothing like the warmth he had once shown her.
Lyra's heart twisted in her chest. "I know something's wrong, Kael. What are you hiding from me?"
Kael stiffened, his eyes hardening. "Nothing."
But she could see it in his eyes. There was a storm brewing inside him, and it had nothing to do with the weather. She could feel it deep in her soul.
Before she could press him further, a rustle in the bushes broke their fragile moment. Kael's hand moved instinctively toward his sword. Lyra's fingers twitched toward her dagger, but he caught her wrist before she could draw it.
"Stay close," he murmured, his voice low, alert.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness—a figure in a cloak, tall and imposing. Lyra's pulse quickened. She didn't need to ask who it was. She already knew.
Delara.
Kael's body tensed, his hand moving from her wrist to his hilt, ready to draw his blade.
"Kael," the voice broke through the tension. Smooth, cold, and filled with something Lyra couldn't name. "I knew I'd find you here."
"Delara," Kael responded, his voice tight, controlled. But she could hear the underlying note of something... older. "What are you doing here?"
Lyra's heart skipped, but she refused to show it. Delara wasn't just anyone to Kael. She could see it in his eyes—the way the shadows around them seemed to tighten when Delara stepped forward. This was someone from his past. Someone important.
Delara's gaze swept over Lyra slowly, with a cold, amused smile on her lips. "So, this is the girl who's stolen your heart," she said, her voice dripping with a venomous sweetness.
Lyra tightened her grip on her dagger but remained silent. She could feel Kael's tension beside her, his muscles coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. This woman—Delara—had come to disrupt something. Lyra knew it.
"Don't," Kael warned, his voice sharp. He stepped in front of Lyra, blocking her from Delara's gaze.
Delara laughed softly, almost cruelly. "What? You think I'm just going to leave? After all this time, Kael? You think you can run from the past?"
Kael's face hardened, but he didn't answer. His eyes were distant, like he was retreating into some hidden place, somewhere that Lyra couldn't follow.
"Leave," Kael said again, more urgently this time. "You've got what you wanted. Just go."
But Delara only stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Lyra. "You don't understand, do you? You were always running, Kael. Always hiding from what you are. But you can't escape your destiny. Not now."
Lyra took a step back, confusion swirling in her chest. "What does she mean, Kael?" she asked, her voice small but persistent.
Kael didn't answer. Instead, his gaze turned hard, determined. He gripped Lyra's arm, pulling her back to him. "Stay behind me. This is not your fight."
Lyra's pulse raced as Delara's gaze narrowed on her. The tension in the air was palpable—Kael was keeping something from her, something important. And now, this woman, this ghost from his past, was dragging him back into it.
"You don't know what's coming, do you?" Delara's voice was a low whisper now, barely audible in the thickening air. "The forces against you, Kael. They're closer than you think. The war is coming, and you can't run from it any longer."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I've left that life behind. It's over."
Delara tilted her head, the smile on her lips stretching wider. "Is it really, Kael? You think you can just walk away? The darkness you tried to bury? It's calling you back."
Kael's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles white with tension. "I'm not going back," he growled.
Delara's gaze flicked to Lyra, her eyes cold and calculating. "She doesn't understand, does she? You think you're saving her, but you're only leading her into something darker than she could ever imagine."
The words hit like a blow. Lyra's throat tightened. Something had changed. Kael was no longer the man she had come to know—the one who had been soft with her, who had protected her. Now, there was something hardened in his eyes, something buried beneath the surface.
"Leave," Kael snapped, voice raw. "Before I make you."
Delara's smile remained, but she took a step back, vanishing into the shadows with a final glance over her shoulder. "We'll see, Kael. We'll see."
Lyra stood frozen, the silence ringing in her ears. Kael didn't move. He just stared at the spot where Delara had been moments before, his fists still clenched at his sides.
"What... what is this, Kael?" Lyra asked softly, her voice trembling. "What war? What forces? What are you hiding from me?"
Kael turned slowly, his face pale, his expression unreadable. "I didn't want you to know," he whispered, his voice thick with something like regret. "I didn't want you to be part of this."
Lyra stepped closer, reaching for his hand. "But I am part of this. Whether you like it or not. We're in this together, Kael."
He didn't pull away, but his eyes seemed lost, far away. "I can't drag you into this, Lyra. Not after everything we've been through."
"But I'm already in it," she said softly. "And so are you."
The weight of the words hung between them, heavy and undeniable. Lyra could feel it now, more than ever—the truth of Kael's past was coming for them both. And no matter how hard they tried to outrun it, the shadows were closing in.
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