LYRIAN AND REONE
"What are we doing?" Lyrian whispered, breathless, when they finally pulled away from their kiss.
Reone's voice came out rough, almost ragged. "I don't know."
Lyrian let out a trembling breath, pressing her lips together. There was a painful lump in her throat she couldn't quite swallow. She knew they couldn't stay like this—they had a mission. Her eyes flickered back to his—steady, searching.
"Reone," she said softly, "I want so badly for us to… to explore whatever this is between us. But this isn't the time or the place. We're have to focus on finding Damon and the Sisterhood."
She didn't know it, but she was echoing Reone's own thoughts—the same ones he'd been desperately trying to push down.
He exhaled, the sound heavy. "I know. That's what I've been trying to tell myself. It's just… it's hard to focus when you're around, Lyrian."
He caught himself too late.
Lyrian's lips curved into a faint smile. "So I'm distracting you, am I?"
"You sound smug," Reone muttered, trying—and failing—to hide the corner of his mouth that was threatening to smile.
She giggled quietly. "Of course I am. I mean, I just found out that I have the power to affect one Reone of Pyros."
"You've been doing that since the day we met," he said, his voice softening.
Her laughter faded, replaced by something tender. She bit her lower lip, and his gaze immediately dropped to the motion.
"I know we can't be together right now," she murmured, "but maybe after the mission…"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe. After the mission."
She leaned forward and pressed one final, lingering kiss to his lips. Then, drawing back, she straightened, her tone firm again. "You should get some sleep. I need you well-rested in the morning. I'll keep watch."
Reone smiled—small, but genuine. "Yes, ma'am," he said, knowing better than to argue with her now.
He disappeared into the tent, and within minutes, Lyrian heard the soft rhythm of his breathing. She smiled to herself. Somehow, everything felt a little lighter. She still didn't know where their relationship stood—or even what tomorrow would bring—but she knew one thing for certain: she could handle anything that came her way. Because she was strong. And with Reone, she was stronger.
From the corner of her eye, Lyrian noticed the fire beginning to die. She knelt beside it and stoked it gently, watching sparks drift upward into the dark canopy above. The forest around her was still—too still.
Then she heard it: a faint rustling, like leaves brushing together. Footsteps?
Lyrian froze, listening hard. Silence—except for the steady sound of Reone's breathing from inside the tent.
Still, her pulse quickened. She was sure she'd heard something. Should she wake him? No. If it was nothing, she'd only worry him for no reason.
She rose quietly, brushing the dirt from her hands, and turned toward the trees. Her senses sharpened, every instinct alert.
"Hello?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying. "Is anyone there?"
Nothing. She exhaled slowly, shoulders loosening—then a pink, viscous droplet landed on her hand. She blinked, startled, and looked up.
Something moved in the shadows above her. Her breath hitched. A figure crouched among the branches—tall, masked, with bright yellow eyes that gleamed in the dark.
She gasped in horror. Before she could react, it leapt.
Lyrian rolled aside just in time, training kicking in. She deflected one strike, then another, her breath loud and quick as she countered. The creature moved fast—impossibly fast—but she was faster. With a precise twist, she sent it sprawling to the ground.
She lifted her hand, energy gathering at her fingertips—a sonic blast ready to fire—but then the creature blinked. Its eyes, wide and strangely expressive, locked onto hers. Elegant… but vulnerable.
Lyrian hesitated. In that split second, the creature swept her legs out from under her. Shoot. She hit the ground with a groan but rolled quickly back to her feet. The figure was already standing—tall, humanoid, with long ears and only three fingers on each hand.
It didn't attack again. Instead, it hunched slightly, one hand clutching its lower abdomen. Her gaze followed the trail of pink droplets staining the forest floor. Was that its blood?
"You're hurt," she said carefully. It didn't respond. Lyrian slowly lowered her hands. Though it had just attacked her, something deep in her gut told her the figure meant no harm—and that it needed help.
"You don't need to be afraid," she said gently. "I want to help you."
She didn't know how she would, but she meant it. And she wanted the creature to know she wasn't a threat. The figure tilted its head, curious—as if trying to understand her. Then, slowly, a faint light began to pulse from the hand pressed against its wound. The glow spread, brightening until Lyrian had to shield her eyes.
When the light faded, the figure straightened, its stance firm and steady.
Lyrian gasped softly. "Did you just… heal yourself?"
"Lyrian?" Reone's voice cut through the night.
The creature flinched. Lyrian turned instinctively toward the sound—and in that heartbeat, when she looked back, the figure was gone.
"What?" she whispered, scanning the shadows. Where was it? It couldn't have just disappeared, right?
Reone emerged from the darkness, startling her. "It's just me," he said.
"I knew that," Lyrian replied a little too quickly.
He frowned. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Lyrian just stared at him.
Reone asked, his tone suddenly worried, "I thought I heard something. Did you?"
"Nope," she said, forcing a small smile. "Just me gathering some wood for the fire."
For reasons she couldn't explain, she didn't tell him about the creature. Maybe because it had clearly wanted to keep its identity a secret—and she wanted to honor that. Or maybe because she wasn't even sure it had been real.
"You shouldn't wander off alone," Reone said firmly.
"You're right," she agreed softly. "My bad."
His expression stayed serious, concern flickering in his eyes. "You still haven't answered me. Yoy're okay,right?"
Lyrian couldn't help feeling a little touched by his worry. "I'm fine, Reone."
"Good. Let's head back."
Nodding, Lyrian let him lead her toward the camp.
"I think I'll sleep a little before dawn," Reone murmured.
"That's probably best," Lyrian said, her mind still replaying what she'd seen.
When she looked back one last time, her gaze caught a faint trail of glowing pink substance on the ground—proof that she hadn't imagined it.
Her heart skipped.
Lyrian's brows furrowed in confusion as a flood of questions raced through her mind. What was that mysterious figure? Who was behind the mask? Why had it attacked her—and how had it gotten hurt?
Lyrian didn't know the answers to any of them. But one thing was certain: something strange was happening in this forest.