Chapter 33

I woke to the sound of soft rain tapping against cracked glass.

It wasn’t loud—barely more than a whisper—but it settled over the room like a blanket, muting the world outside. The apartment smelled like dust and rust but was dry, and the ceiling hadn’t caved in overnight. That was something. Kael was still asleep beside me, his face turned toward the wall, one arm curled under his head, the other resting loosely between us. In sleep, the tension drained from him. The lines at his brow, the set of his jaw were gone. He looked younger. Human. Peaceful in a way I hadn’t seen before. I stayed still, not wanting to wake him, and let myself look. The mark on my arm had spread again. Thin silver lines curled over my shoulder now, delicate as vines, glowing faintly even in the dim light. It didn’t hurt. Not anymore. But it buzzed softly under my skin, like it knew he was near. I traced one edge lightly, careful not to stir the rest of my body. I didn’t want to break the moment. Not yet. Eventually, Kael shifted. He didn’t open his eyes immediately, just inhaled slowly, and rolled onto his back. His shoulder brushed mine. A simple contact, but it sent a warmth curling low in my stomach.

“You were watching me sleep,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

I smiled, despite myself. “Maybe.”

He turned his head toward me. His gray eyes were clear, if a little heavy. “That’s not creepy at all.”

I nudged him lightly with my elbow. “You snore.”

He arched a brow. “Lies.”

“Only a little.”

The silence after that wasn’t awkward. It felt… normal. Like something we could live inside. His hand stretched out between us, fingers brushing mine. I didn’t move away. Later, Kael helped me scavenge through the ruined kitchen while I coaxed a mostly working coffee pot into functioning. The packet of instant coffee we found was probably older than I was, but it still brewed something vaguely drinkable. I poured it into two mismatched mugs, handed one to him, and watched him sniff it suspiciously.

“It looks like swamp water,” he said flatly.

I sipped mine. “Tastes like it, too.”

Kael took a tentative mouthful, grimaced, and then swallowed anyway. “I’ve had worse.”

We sat on the windowsill while the rain painted silver streaks on the glass, our knees almost touching. The city was quiet beneath us—gray rooftops, empty alleys, puddles reflecting static clouds. It felt like the world was holding its breath. His bandages had bled through again. I reached for my pack and pulled out what little was left—torn gauze, half a bottle of disinfectant. Kael didn’t protest when I gestured for him to lift his shirt.

“You’re getting used to this,” I said.

He shrugged, wincing. “You’re better at patching me up than I am.”

I knelt in front of him, gently peeling the stained bandage back. The wound was healing slowly, like his magic was tired, too. His skin was warm under my fingertips, flushed with fever, magic, or both. My hand paused at his ribs.

“Does it still hurt?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. “Only when I breathe.”

I looked up sharply, but he smiled faintly, like it was meant to be funny.

“You’re not funny,” I muttered.

“Don’t have to be. I have you.” I froze, not from fear, but from how easily the words settled between us. Kael watched me—his expression soft, less guarded than usual.

“I mean it,” he said. “Even before all this… tether nonsense. You make this bearable.”

I finished wrapping his ribs and let my hand linger a second too long. Then I sat back on my heels and folded my hands in my lap.

“I keep thinking,” I said, “if I’d never lit that candle, none of this would’ve happened.”

He tilted his head. “Do you wish it hadn’t?”

My throat tightened. “I don’t know.”

He reached out then, his fingers curling lightly around mine. Not a pull. Just… there. A steady weight. “I do,” he said. “Not the pain. Not the monsters. But meeting you? That part, I wouldn’t change.”

The tether between us pulsed softly. I leaned my shoulder against his. We sat like that for a long time, watching the rain, sharing the silence. The edge between us felt thinner now, less like a wall and more like a door we hadn’t quite opened. Kael’s head dipped slightly, brushing my temple. I didn’t move. His hand slid along my forearm, fingertips tracing the silver mark. My breath caught. I turned toward him, just enough to see his eyes, dark and steady. He kissed me. Soft. Certain. My hands curled into his shirt, anchoring us. His free arm circled my waist, pulling me in, and I let myself fall into the kiss like it was inevitable. When we finally pulled apart, my heart was racing, my pulse loud in my ears.

“Wow,” I whispered.

He nodded once, like it had unraveled something inside him, too. We lay back on the floor after that, curled together beneath the emergency blanket. The city pulsed quietly outside the window, a distant heartbeat. Kael’s hand rested at my hip. His breathing slowed, and his grip on me loosened after a while, not because he pulled away, but because sleep found him first. I stayed awake longer, listening. Guarding the space we’d carved out of the dark. Outside, the world shifted like it was dreaming, too. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to run.