The next morning, Aira woke with a start.
The man was gone.
The bedding still held his heat, but the door had been nudged open. Panic coiled in her chest like smoke as she stumbled outside.
He stood barefoot at the cliff's edge, shirtless, the morning wind tousling his dark hair. The bandage she'd wrapped around his shoulder had come loose, stained red. Yet he stood steady, watching the sea crash far below.
"You should be resting," she said, pulling her cloak tighter as she approached.
He turned.
His gaze met hers—and for the first time, she saw him fully awake.
"You're the girl from the courtyard," he said softly.
She froze.
"You remember that?" she whispered.
He nodded. "You touched me. And I saw you in my memory. That's… not possible. But it happened."
Aira's stomach sank. "You should forget it. That's the rule."
He stepped closer, slowly, as if afraid she might vanish.
"Who are you?"
She hesitated. Then said: "Aira Serenth. Shaman. Curse-bearer. Witch. Take your pick."
His lips quirked upward. "Aira. That's a name I've dreamed of."
Heat rose to her cheeks. "Dreams are often lies."
He reached out, fingers brushing her gloved hand.
"You saw my past. May I… see yours?"
"No," she said sharply, pulling away.
His brows knit.
"I'm sorry," she added quickly. "It's not you. It's just—if you hold my hand, nothing happens to you. I'm the one who's taken. I can't always control it."
He nodded, but didn't press further.
They stood in silence, the cliff wind curling around them like invisible threads of fate.
Then, he offered her a name.
"Kael. Just Kael, for now."
She stared at his hand.
She shouldn't touch him again.
But she wanted to.
More than anything.
---
That night, Kael slept on her floor, close to the fire. Aira lay awake in her bed, watching the light flicker across the beams.
His breathing was deep. Peaceful.
And she knew, in her bones, that something impossible had already begun.
Because the second time she touched him, it wasn't just her who saw the past.
It was him, too.
And that had never happened before.