The next morning.
They rose and began wandering again, silence settling comfortably between their steps.
"Do you think we killed him?" Spring asked.
Fall turned, startled by the fact that she had spoken first.
"You mean Tharion?" he asked, blinking. "No. There's no way."
He smiled, soft and sincere.
"But you were incredible back there. We wouldn't have made it out if it weren't for you."
Spring looked down. Her face burned with a flush she couldn't hide.
She hated how warm it made her feel.
"We'll have to come up with a plan when we meet the others," she said quickly. "He's too strong. We can't risk facing him again unprepared."
Fall's steps slowed.
Meeting the others… That meant Winter.
His smile faded, just a fraction.
"…Yeah," he said, after a pause. "We will."
The path narrowed, the forest giving way to stone and mist. Up ahead, a river flowed—glittering in the dim light.
It looked calm.
But the surface shimmered unnaturally, like it wasn't just water at all.
Spring stopped at the edge.
Something felt wrong.
Fall stepped beside her, eyes narrowing, the corner of his mouth tugging up.
"No bridge," he said. "How dramatic."
Then, smirking slightly, "You first?"
She gave him a sharp look.
And stepped forward.
The moment her boot touched the surface—
She fell.
Straight through it.
The river was a merely a membrane and gravity had chosen to ignore its usual rules.
Her body sank in silence, gliding through a newly discovered world.
Fall followed instantly, his form slipping in behind hers.
Until they reached the ground.
They were beneath it all now. The world above… gone.
An eerie silence surrounded them.
A submerged world stretched around them—vast, surreal.
Pale coral bloomed across jagged stone ridges, glowing faintly in luminous hues. Strange fish, their scales lit like gems, darted past like flying birds. The riverbed unfurled into a canyon, its stones pulsing with arcane light beneath their feet.
The water held no pressure. No push. They could even breathe normally.
And they were soaked.
Spring wrapped her arms around herself. Her clothes clung to her skin. She was cold and deeply uncomfortable.
Strands of her hair clung to her cheeks, catching the glowing hues drifting around them.
Fall stood beside her, trying to take in the place they'd landed. Soaked as well. Grinning like he always did when his mind was racing.
"Brave choice," he said, breaking the quiet, "wearing wet clothes in a place like this. You might catch a magical cold."
She didn't look at him. "Don't get any ideas."
"Oh, I've got ideas."
He slipped off his coat and let it fall. It dropped like dead weight, wet and heavy.
She kept her gaze fixed forward. Unyielding.
"You know," he added, hands casually working the buttons of his shirt, "I could help. Hellfire veins. Personal heater. Comes with a smug face and everything."
"I'll freeze, thanks."
Fall chuckled under his breath. "Suit yourself."
He peeled off his shirt and wrung it out with one firm twist. Water streamed from the fabric, pooling at his feet. His skin glowed faintly under the coral light—damp, marked, too solid and too beautiful for a place this fragile.
Spring sat on a smooth, curved stone, curling her arms tighter around herself. Her eyes stayed fixed on the fish, the coral, the nothing.
Anywhere but him.
Fall lingered nearby, stretching like a panther in the aftermath of rain—shoulders flexing, muscles carved and coiled. The demon markings along his ribs shimmered like molten ink, restless and alive.
"You're not going to dry off?" he asked.
She didn't respond.
He stepped a little closer.
"Really," he said, softer now, "I'm not trying to be annoying."
"Too late for that."
She turned—
And stopped.
Caught him full in view.
Steam rose faintly from his skin. His hair clung in dripping, wild strands. Bare chest glowing in the coral light.
Markings pulsed along his ribs—veins of fire, alive on and under his skin.
He looked like lust incarnate.
She looked.
Just a second.
A very long second.
And he saw it.
Fall didn't move.
Didn't smirk.
Just watched her.
And that was worse.
Her breath caught.
She turned away—too fast, wanting to erase the moment.
It didn't.
She could still feel his eyes. The weight of them. The heat. Slow. Sure.
So she did what she always did when she felt exposed—
She attacked.
"You're such a stereotype," she muttered.
"Half-naked demon glowing in enchanted lighting, waiting for someone to throw themselves at you.
Let me guess—you'll start whispering something filthy in my ear next?"
A pause.
"See how much you can say until I break?"
Fall blinked.
Slow.
Lips twitching. Still no smile.
She didn't stop.
"Classic seduction tactics. You'd probably lean in, say something about my smell? Tell me something about your chest? Touch my face and hair?"
Still—nothing.
Just him. Watching.
Eyes dark.
Patient.
Then he stepped closer.
Not touching.
Just close enough for her to feel it his heat, threading through the cold water in the air.
"I don't need to whisper anything."
Her pulse jumped.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
"You're already thinking it."
Silence.
Thick. Slow. Loaded.
Then—he turned.
Stepped away, casual again, letting the moment stretch and fray behind him.
Damn him.
And then—
Snap.
Something stung her right thigh.
"Ouch!"
The sound escaped before she could stop it—sharp, startled, pained. She stood up.
Fall turned instantly, already moving.
"What's wrong?"
And then he saw it. A splinter. Thin, colourful—coral. She must've not seen it when she sat down.
It looked harmless.
But then she staggered.
He caught her.
"Spring—"
"I'm fine," she whispered, but her voice was syrup-thick. Her pupils were wide, breath ragged. A flush bloomed across her cheeks, climbing her throat.
Fall's heart stuttered.
"Poison," he muttered, jaw tight.
Her eyes met his—glassy, slow, warm like embers caught in honey.
"Mmm," she hummed, lids half-lowered. "Is that why everything feels so… warm?"
His hands hovered at her waist. He wanted to pull back. He didn't move.
He could sense it. Something in her scent was too dangerous for him.
She swayed forward, her body brushing his—light, like a whisper—but it set him ablaze.
"Or maybe," she said, almost smiling, "it's just you."
"Spring," he breathed, steady in voice, not in body. "This isn't you."
She lifted a hand. Touched his face.
It was feather-light. The pad of her thumb grazed his cheekbone, then traced down, slow—lingering where his jaw tightened beneath her touch.
Her fingers curled slightly, brushing the side of his neck.
"You smell like rain," she said. "Like storm air and burnt wood. Like…you."
He couldn't breathe. She was too close, and her eyes saw through everything.
"Have I ever told you that?" she asked.
"No," he said, hoarse. "Don't."
But she didn't stop.
Her gaze dropped—to his lips, then lower, tracing the lines of his chest and the arcane glow along his ribs. Her fingers followed, barely skimming his skin. And still, wonder bloomed on her face. No fear. No hesitation.
"Do you hate me?" she asked, so softly it was almost broken.
His throat clenched.
"You hate me," she said again, quieter.
"I don't," he rasped. "Don't do this."
"I don't hate you either," she breathed. "Not right now."
Then—she leaned in, pressed her lips to his cheek. Just the barest kiss. Heat surged through him. He bit down hard on a groan.
"You always made everything else go quiet."
That flinch—he couldn't stop it.
Her fingers slid into his hair. She tipped her forehead against his, close enough to taste her breath.
"You feel safe," she whispered. "I want to stay here. Forever."
He nearly broke.
She fit against him perfectly, arms slipping around his neck now, clinging like she'd found home.
Every instinct screamed to hold her tighter. To stay. To believe this was real.
But it wasn't.
And he knew that.
So slowly—painfully—he reached up. Threaded darkness into the air. A lullaby, spun from sorrow.
It curled against her temple like a kiss.
Her lashes fluttered.
And then she went still.
He caught her before she fell.
Held her tightly.
Buried his face in her hair.
"Fuck," he choked. "Fuck—"
A few hours later, she stirred with a groggy sound and sat up, fingers pressed to her temple.
"What… happened?"
"You got poisoned by coral," Fall said, deceptively casual.
He was sitting a few meters away—dressed, relaxed in posture. But too still.
Too careful.
"You started swaying around, smiling at me like I'd hung the stars. It was… very intense. Very flattering."
Her eyes widened. "Oh no."
"Oh yes," he said. "You told me I smelled good. Called me warm. Said you wanted to stay close to me forever."
He arched a brow. "Didn't know you were such a romantic."
She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Please tell me you're joking."
"Nope," he said easily. "Then you leaned into me like I was your favorite pillow and said I felt safe."
He paused.
"Which, frankly, might be the most unrealistic part of the whole performance."
"I hate you."
"No you don't," he said lightly. "Not when you're poisoned, apparently."
She peeked through her fingers, glaring half-heartedly.
"So… you knocked me out?"
"Gently," he said, proud of it. "Very responsible of me. You were seconds away from convincing me you actually liked me."
She let out a mortified whimper. "Kill me."
"You're lucky I didn't record it." His voice stayed light, but something in it dipped. "You were… sweet. Too sweet."
His smile faltered.
Just for a second.
And she saw it.
Fall leaned back, eyes flicking toward the glowing coral.
"You didn't mean any of it. I know that."
"You were out of it. Heat-drunk. You didn't even know what you were saying."
Silence fell. Heavy.
She stared at him. Words stuck behind her tongue.
"You don't have to say anything," he said quickly, too quickly. Tone lightening—too fast.
But it wasn't steady.
Not really.
She swallowed. Her heart pounded.
Then—right on cue—he gave her a grin. Crooked. Charming. Just convincing enough.
"I really hope this doesn't happen again."
A beat.
"Because if it does… I might do something really reckless."
He looked at her, voice quieter now. Honest. Raw.
"Like believe it."
She looked away, the tips of her ears burning.
"…You're never going to let this go, are you?"
"Not a chance," he said, stretching out like he hadn't just been cracked open. "I already added it to my list of cherished near-death experiences."
His tone stayed light.
But when he thought she wasn't looking—
He stopped smiling.