Night had settled around them, a heavy blanket of stars stretching across the sky. The forest was still except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the cool breeze. Nathanial and Kyralia had survived the ambush by three men, though the tension between them had not eased. As darkness grew deeper, they halted the horses and made camp.

Nathanial busied himself gathering twigs and branches, returning with a decent pile. Kyralia crouched low by the unlit fire pit, her deft hands working rhythmically as she used two pieces of wood to create friction. Sparks caught, and soon a small fire flickered to life, growing into a steady flame. The embers rose like fireflies, disappearing into the crisp night air.

Kyralia sat by the fire, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. She gazed into the flames, the flickering light reflecting in her dark eyes. Her breathing was steady, though the tension in her shoulders suggested otherwise. The flames danced, feeding on the oxygen she unconsciously manipulated, though it soothed her more than she let on.

"Fond of fire, are we?" Nathanial's deep Scottish brogue broke the silence, his tone laced with observation and mild amusement.

She didn't bother looking up. "How competent of you," she replied dryly, her voice tinged with mockery.

"And how unladylike of you," Nathanial shot back, his trademark cockiness shining through. He leaned against a nearby tree, arms folded as a smirk spread across his face. "Most women would be swooning by now."

Kyralia finally lifted her gaze, the flames casting sharp shadows on her face. "I am not like most women," she retorted, her tone firm and devoid of the flirtation Nathanial so often encountered.

His smirk faltered for a moment, his curiosity piqued. "A dark past, perhaps? Or are you simply this charming all the time?" he quipped, the bite in his words sharper than he intended.

Kyralia's eyes narrowed as she unwrapped her arms and stood abruptly. "And you are a cocky, self-assured bandit who thinks outrunning his past is enough," she shot back, her voice cold and cutting. She noted the flicker of worry in his eyes and pressed on, stepping closer. "You think you can outrun your sins, Nathanial? Think again."

Her words hit their mark, and Nathanial's smirk vanished entirely. He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "I do not fight beside someone I cannot trust."

She brushed past him, her shoulder nudging his, but he turned, letting out a soft chuckle that only infuriated her more. "You are one to talk," he said, his voice quieter but no less pointed. "You are running too. That is why you are out here, is it not? Not for adventure, but to escape."

Kyralia froze, his words striking too close to the truth. Slowly, she turned back to face him, her dark eyes blazing with anger. "Do not dare turn this on me," she hissed, taking a step toward him. "I was perfectly fine on my own until you tried to kill me. Then, conveniently, decided to help. What do you even want, Nathanial?"

"I apologized, did I not?" he shot back, his voice rising in frustration. "Or do you hold grudges forever?"

"You think a simple apology erases betrayal?" Kyralia's voice matched his intensity. "You think that bow of yours will keep you safe forever? Wake up."

As she turned on her heel to leave, Nathanial moved swiftly, grabbing her arms and spinning her back toward him. Without thinking, he closed the distance and kissed her. It wasn't gentle or rehearsed; it was raw and impulsive, born of the fire between them. For a moment, she froze, stunned by the act. Memories of Armin—of a time when love wasn't a distant dream—flooded her mind.

But just as quickly, she pushed him away, her palms slamming against his chest. "Never do that again," she warned, her voice sharp and unwavering. Her glare could have melted steel, but Nathanial didn't flinch, though he looked dazed by what had just transpired.

Without another word, Kyralia stormed around the fire and sank back into her original spot. She hugged her knees once more, her gaze fixed on the flames as if willing to erase the moment. The fire burned brighter, her frustration fueling its intensity.

Nathanial stood rooted to the spot, staring at her. He had acted on impulse, something he rarely allowed himself to do, and now he was paying for it. Yet part of him didn't regret the kiss. It had stirred something within him, something he hadn't felt in years.

The rest of the night passed in tense silence. They ate without speaking, their thoughts heavy and tumultuous. Kyralia's mind raced with questions and regrets, while Nathanial wrestled with the unfamiliar emotions the kiss had awakened.

One of them would sleep soundly that night. The other would wrestle with their demons, staring into the darkness until dawn.

..................

Dawn's first light broke through the tree line, casting a soft glow across the forest. The rays hit Nathanial's eyes, waking him from a restless sleep. Kyralia was already up and packing the supplies. She had hardly slept at all during the night, her movements quick and precise, but there was a weariness in her. She didn't show it, though. She never did.

Kyralia had dealt with more loss than most people could imagine—she had relationships and bonds forged on the battlefield and the ones she left behind. But Armin had been different. He had been the second longest relationship she'd had, and with him, she had seen a future. A life. A shared dream. But it hadn't been in the cards for her, had it? She had fought for him, for them. And now, she was left with nothing but the ache of another lost possibility.

Nathanial stirred awake as the sunlight filtered through the trees, stretching his stiff limbs. His eyes immediately darted to where Kyralia had been sleeping, but his heart skipped a beat when he realized she wasn't there. He shot up, a tight knot forming in his chest.

"Kyra?!" His voice rang with worry as he sprang to his feet and rushed toward her sleeping spot.

"What?" Her voice cut through the air, sharp as a knife. Nathanial whipped around, his body still tense. His breath released in a sigh of relief when he saw her, standing with her back to him as she continued packing.

"I was not going to leave you," she stated matter-of-factly, not even sparing him a glance. "I am not that kind of person."

Nathanial's chest loosened a bit, but the tension from the night before still hung in the air. He nodded silently, acknowledging her words but not fully understanding the depth of her own internal struggle.

"Come on, we are losing daylight," she said, her voice practical as she made her way to her horse, swinging effortlessly into the saddle. "We still have a long way to go."

Nathanial packed his things quickly, gathering his horse with haste. It didn't take long before they were back on the trail, the rhythmic sound of hooves filling the otherwise silent morning. They rode side by side, but the air between them felt heavy—unsaid words hanging just beyond reach. Kyralia's silence spoke volumes. She was still angry, still unnerved by his impulsive actions. He had kissed her, and now she couldn't quite shake the anger she felt, nor the confusion that followed it.

The hours passed in this tense silence, only the occasional glance exchanged between them, and that brief moment when their eyes would meet before quickly looking away.

By midday, they had reached a hill overlooking a village in the distance. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimneys, a sign of life stirring below.

"There it is," Nathanial said, breaking the silence after what seemed like an eternity. His voice was laced with caution. "A fair warning: they do not like outsiders."

Kyralia shot him a glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Neither do I," she replied curtly, her grip on the reins tightening as she urged her horse forward, the animal's hooves thudding on the earth beneath them. Nathanial let out a soft sigh, realizing the mistake he had made, but the words were already out there. And she wasn't one to forget easily. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret his actions—not fully, at least.

They rode down the winding path toward the village in silence, the buildings below growing clearer with each passing moment. The village was humble—small wooden houses with straw roofs nestled close together. The people were scattered around, going about their daily routines, but as soon as Nathanial and Kyralia entered, all activity ceased. Eyes turned toward them, the villagers sizing them up, and most notably, her. She could feel their stares like a weight upon her, but she didn't let it show.

It wasn't long before an elderly farmer, his face weathered by time, stepped into the middle of the road. He wore a straw hat and his clothes were simple, but his eyes carried the weariness of someone who had seen much.

"Cò thu? Dè tha thu ag iarraidh?" The man spoke in Gaelic, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity and suspicion.

Nathanial moved forward, preparing to answer, but Kyralia cut him off, her voice clear and strong. "Is mise Kyra, agus tha mi air siubhal astar mòr. Feuch gum bu mhath leam beagan oidhcheannan an seo, agus an uairsin bidh mi air mo shlighe," she spoke in fluent Gaelic, not missing a beat. She had the villagers' attention now—her words confident and precise.

Nathanial blinked, taken aback by her fluency. He hadn't known she spoke Gaelic, and the realization added another layer of intrigue to his perception of her.

The elderly man's eyes widened slightly as he processed her words, but it was his follow-up that caught them both off guard. "How do you know our ways?" he asked in English, his accent thick but intelligible.

Kyralia met his gaze with an unwavering calm. "I know many things. But, as I said, I would like to rest here for a few days. Then, I'll be on my way."

The man regarded her for a long moment, his eyes flicking from Kyralia to Nathanial. After a long silence, he nodded. "As you wish," he said, his voice low. "But be warned: it is dangerous at night. A creature lurks in the shadows, capturing our people. For your safety, stay indoors."

His words were heavy, filled with an unmistakable fear, and his eyes carried a haunted glint as he turned and walked away. Kyralia's brow furrowed as she watched him go, the warning echoing in her mind. Something wasn't right here. But she made a mental note to stay cautious. There was more to this village than met the eye.

Nathanial, however, couldn't shake the feeling that the strange man's warning wasn't the only secret this village held. As they rode further into the village, the strange glances from the villagers still lingered, their whispered conversations following them. Neither of them spoke, but the weight of what lay ahead sat heavily in the air.

.............................

A kind farmer had offered Nathanial and Kyralia the use of his barn for the night, allowing their horses to roam freely within. The hay that covered the floor became their makeshift bed, and while it wasn't the most comfortable, neither of them complained. She had hardly spoken since the incident with Nathanial, and despite the quiet glances they exchanged, neither made a move to bridge the gap. Both were too stubborn, too set in their ways, to break the silence.

As night fully descended, Kyralia stood by the barn's small, blocked window. Her gaze was fixed on the dark sky above, stars twinkling in the clear night, but the village below was eerily still. The only light visible came from a distant house, but that too was snuffed out almost immediately. This village, she thought, was living in fear—fear of something that lurked in the shadows. And Kyralia wasn't one to ignore such fear.

She grabbed her sword from where it rested beside her, its hilt worn from countless battles. Without a word to Nathanial, she strode purposefully toward the barn doors. But before she could open them, Nathanial's voice halted her.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his words rushed and filled with concern.

She didn't even glance back. "I am off to pick berries," she replied sarcastically, her tone dripping with irony. "What does it look like I am doing?" she added, the sword in her hand now unmistakable.

Nathanial didn't move, his concern intensifying. "Why the hell would you go out there? You heard the man!" He pushed through the hay, his face contorted with worry. "You really want to go out there to get killed?"

Kyralia shot him a sharp look, her patience wearing thin. "You clearly did not see the terror on his face," she snapped. "You think I am going to sit here and do nothing while this village is being terrorized? I cannot just ignore it." Her words were heated, driven by a sense of duty that had always guided her, even when the world had grown darker. "You can stay here, safe and sound, but I am not going to stand by while people suffer."

Before Nathanial could respond, a distant, bone-chilling roar echoed through the village. Kyralia froze, her body tense, as the sound seemed to shake the very ground beneath her. She gripped her sword, pulling it free from its sheath with practised ease, the cold steel solid in her hands. She locked eyes with Nathanial, who had already reached for his bow, his stance defensive.

"Stay here," She warned him, her voice low but firm. Without another word, she carefully opened the barn door just wide enough for her to slip through. The night air hit her like a wave, and without hesitation, she disappeared into the darkness.

She moved through the village quickly and silently, her senses heightened. The streets were empty—silent, save for the occasional echo of the haunting roars. Kyralia's footsteps were light, her eyes scanning every shadow. The villagers had hidden themselves away, terrified of whatever stalked the night. But she wasn't afraid.

Another roar split the air, closer now, much closer. Kyralia paused in her tracks, her gaze snapping to the source. The sound had come from behind a nearby house, so she approached cautiously, sword raised, her body poised for action.

"Come out!" she called, her voice strong and unwavering, cutting through the tension. She stepped forward, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The anticipation built in her chest, but just as she reached the corner of the house, she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

She spun on her heels, the sword tip aimed directly at the new arrival.

"Easy!" Nathanial's voice rang out, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He had followed her despite her warning, and now the sharp edge of her sword was mere inches from his throat.

Kyralia let out a sharp breath, lowering her sword just slightly but keeping her grip firm. "I told you to stay," she scolded him, her eyes flashing with exasperation. "You never listen, do you?"

Nathanial scoffed, his expression hardening. "I do not take orders from you," he shot back, his voice dripping with bitterness. There was something in his words, a hardness, a past that Kyralia hadn't fully unravelled yet. But before she could respond, he added, "I want to help."

She blinked, taken aback by the admission. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected those words from him—not after everything. "Do not look so surprised," Nathanial mocked, noticing her astonishment. But his gaze quickly returned to the matter at hand—the creature they were hunting.

"Fine," she said, after a beat. "Stay behind, then. Fire from a distance," she ordered, already turning back to face the house, her senses heightened. "Just do not get in my way."

The air around them felt heavy with tension. Kyralia could feel something was off, an uneasy sensation prickling at the back of her neck. Her instincts were screaming at her to be cautious, to stay alert. She paused, her gaze flicking toward the house once more, but the feeling only deepened. Something was wrong.

A bone-chilling sensation crept down her spine, and she whirled around just in time to see the attack coming.

A massive shape lunged from the shadows, and the night seemed to explode with movement. The creature's eyes glowed with an eerie light, and its monstrous form towered over her, claws slashing toward her.

Kyralia barely had time to react. Her sword came up just in time to deflect the blow, but the force of the impact knocked her off balance. She stumbled, barely managing to stay on her feet. Nathanial's bowstring snapped behind her, an arrow flying into the creature's side, but it barely slowed the beast down.

Kyralia didn't hesitate. She charged forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared for the fight...

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