Morning came with birdsong.
The first Kael had heard in days.
The temple's broken roof let shafts of sunlight through, casting golden lines across the floor. Riven was already awake, kneeling by a shattered window, her back to him. The glint of a blade caught the light as she cleaned and sharpened it with silent precision.
Ash slept curled by Kael's feet, tail twitching.
Kael sat up slowly. His body ached, but not like before. The pain was quieter now—wrapped in something else.
Something softer.
Riven didn't look back.
"Sleep okay?"
Kael hesitated. "I did."
"Good. You were muttering in your sleep. I almost slapped you."
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "Wouldn't have been the first time."
She turned then, and her face—just for a second—broke into something close to warmth.
"I found a trail," she said, all business again. "Old rune signatures. Weak, but still pulsing. There might be a Binder's cache hidden nearby."
Kael blinked. "Like… a vault?"
"Or a grave," Riven said. "Depends on whether the last guy locked it or got eaten by what he summoned."
They left the village by midday, heading deeper into the twisted forest.
The trees thickened, bark slick with moss. Insects the size of Kael's fist buzzed overhead. The air smelled of copper and root.
Riven taught him to see signatures—the subtle trails of lingering magic. They hung like dust motes in the light, shifting with emotion, bound to the caster's will.
"See that?" she said, pointing at a cluster of thornbushes. "That shimmer means fear. Whoever passed here was terrified."
"Can you track people through it?"
"People, beasts, echoes of spells. It's not always accurate, but it's better than guessing."
Kael watched the shimmer—green-blue with edges that pulsed faintly. His fingers itched. He could feel the Lifebind signature in it. Almost familiar.
They followed the trail to a crumbling stone arch half-buried in vines.
Kael stepped forward.
And the earth exploded.
The trap was ancient—probably centuries old.
One moment Kael was walking, the next he was screaming, flung sideways into the underbrush by a vine-wrapped maw that had snapped open from the ground.
Its teeth were made of bark. Its body was a coiled root serpent, half-dead, half-sentient. Old magic. Twisted. Hungry.
Kael hit a rock and rolled hard, his side tearing open on a jagged root.
Riven didn't hesitate.
She charged.
The fight was a blur.
Steel met bark. Sparks flew.
Riven weaved between the serpent's strikes, slashing at its joints, eyes locked on its core. But the creature was fast. Too fast.
Kael tried to rise—but his leg gave out, blood soaking his boot. His vision spun.
The creature lunged at Riven, massive jaw unhinging—
And she dived.
Straight into its mouth.
Kael's heart stopped.
Then—burst.
A spray of black sap exploded from the side of the serpent's throat as Riven's blade tore through it from the inside. She erupted out its flank, covered in muck, breathing hard.
The serpent let out a dying hiss—and collapsed in a heap of rotting bark.
She was on Kael in seconds.
"You idiot," she growled. "I told you to look for root traps."
"You said maybe root traps."
"Do I look like I speak hypothetically?"
He laughed weakly, then winced. "Hurts."
"I'm going to bind the wound."
"Don't use your own blood—"
"I don't care."
She ripped open her glove, drew a blade across her palm, and pressed her hand to his side.
Green light flared.
The magic pulsed—not like his, but smoother. Warmer.
Not Lifebinding.
But something close.
"Riven…"
"You're not dying," she said, voice trembling. "Not on me. Not after last night."
He stared at her.
And for the first time, he knew.
She didn't just want him alive.
She needed him to be.
Her hands trembled against his chest. His fingers curled around hers.
And just like that, something old inside both of them cracked open.