The hum of Kael's tech filled the tower's quiet lower chamber—steady, warm, alive. Zephyra sat on a reinforced bench, her wrists still bound in null cuffs. No magic. No power. Just silence.
She hated it.
Or… she thought she did.
Across the room, Kael leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like she was both dangerous and human. Not like the others. Not like the soldiers or Council dogs.
"You haven't tried to break out yet," he said quietly.
Zephyra tilted her head. "I'm not stupid. That armor of yours may be crude, but it works."
He smiled faintly. "You just called my tech 'crude.' You are feeling better."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. Just for a second. Then she looked away.
"You really don't get it, do you?" she whispered.
"Get what?"
"This place. You. All of it. It shouldn't exist. A world where someone like you can exist. It breaks everything I was taught."
Kael stepped closer, curious. "And what were you taught?"
Zephyra stared ahead, but her voice softened. "I was raised in the Ember District. We didn't have stars—just smoke. No bedtime stories. Just scars and silence."
Kael stayed quiet, letting her speak.
"The Obsidian Court found me. Said I had raw power. They forged me like a weapon. The first spell I learned was how to kill without remorse."
She turned toward him, silver eyes unreadable.
"But then I met you."
Kael blinked. "Me?"
"You had no power. No bloodline. Just… your mind. And still, you beat me." She laughed—just a little. "You were calm. Gentle. Even after I nearly snapped your spine."
"I try not to hold grudges," Kael said with a half-smile.
She studied him now. Really looked.
He had oil stains on his collar, a cut on his cheek he hadn't bothered to clean, and eyes full of tired brilliance.
"I don't understand you," she said.
Kael sat across from her, close now. "Maybe you don't need to. Maybe it's okay to just… feel it."
Zephyra's breath caught.
No one had ever spoken to her like that.
Not as a weapon.
Not as a mistake.
But as someone real.
She leaned forward, just a little. "I've killed people like you before, Kael."
"And yet," he said, voice low, "you didn't kill me."
Her heart stuttered.
It wasn't magic—it was something deeper. Scarier. Her guard flinched for the first time in years.
She looked at her wrists. "Unlock these."
Kael hesitated.
"If you're wrong," she said, "I could destroy everything you've built."
He stepped forward.
"I know."
He pressed the release.
The cuffs clattered to the floor.
Zephyra slowly raised her hands, her fingers glowing faintly again with magic—but she didn't attack.
Instead, she looked at him like he was a puzzle she didn't want to solve—just hold.
"You're insane," she whispered.
Kael's eyes met hers. "So are you."
For a breathless second, they just stood there, two forces—one built from magic, one from mind—drawn together not by fate, but by choice.
Then Zephyra looked down, lips curving.
"Don't think this means I like you."
Kael chuckled. "You will."
And she didn't say no.