The day before the anniversary of their mother's death dawned quietly, but even the sunlight seemed subdued as it filtered through the windows of the house.
Kael woke early, before either their father or Rys, and stood at the edge of the field with the wind pressing cool against their face. One year. It was difficult to believe that so much time had passed, and yet it felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.
By the time they came back inside, their father was already in the kitchen.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, glancing up.
"Not really," Kael admitted.
He studied them for a moment before nodding. "We'll make today count. All of it."
---
The morning was spent preparing in small, careful steps. Kael gathered flowers from the edges of the property: wild lilies and thin-stemmed blossoms that their mother used to braid into wreaths. Rys joined them after breakfast, carrying a small basket and silently keeping pace.
The three of them worked together without the usual chatter, each of them caught in their own thoughts.
"We'll need more candles," Rys said at one point, pausing by the edge of the stream. "For tomorrow night."
Kael nodded. "I was thinking lanterns, too."
"Then we'll do both," Rys said simply.
---
By midday, the kitchen table was covered in carefully arranged blooms, bundles of candles, and a small stack of folded paper lanterns that Rys had made by hand.
Kael's father sat with them as they worked, occasionally offering a quiet memory: how she'd always taken her tea with honey and mint, how she laughed at her own bad singing voice when the three of them would cook together.
Every word landed softly, and the weight in the room shifted. Heavy, yes, but in a way that reminded them of her warmth instead of only her absence.
---
In the afternoon, they moved to the porch with their tasks, letting the fresh air surround them. It was here, as Kael was stringing lanterns, that Rys finally broke the silence.
"I've been thinking about tomorrow," Rys said. "What if we all share a story? One that we've never told before?"
Kael glanced up. "A story we've never told?"
Rys nodded. "I know we've gone over the same ones so many times, but… I think she'd like to hear something new. Something we've been holding onto."
Their father gave a thoughtful hum. "That sounds right."
---
For a moment, Kael was quiet, the string of lanterns still between their hands. They thought of a memory so small it almost didn't seem worth mentioning: a rainy day, a half-finished drawing, and the way she'd leaned over their shoulder and said, It doesn't have to be perfect to be worth doing.
"Yeah," Kael said softly. "I think I know what I'll tell."
---
They spent the rest of the day in a rhythm of quiet preparation. When the sun dipped low, painting the sky gold and pink, Kael and Rys went out to hang the lanterns along the fence line, each one swaying gently in the evening wind.
As night approached, they gathered on the porch again, the air cool but not yet cold.
---
Dinner that evening was simple, and quieter than usual. Kael picked at their food, the thoughts they'd been keeping at bay all day creeping back to the surface.
Afterward, instead of going their separate ways, they stayed together, the three of them sitting in the living room as the lanterns flickered outside.
"I've been thinking," their father said, "about how much has changed in just a year."
Kael swallowed, looking down at their hands. "Sometimes it feels like everything changed that day."
"It did," their father said, not unkindly. "But so did you. You've grown more than I think you realize."
---
Later that night, Kael and Rys ended up outside again. The lanterns made little halos of light around the yard.
"Do you think it'll always feel like this?" Rys asked quietly.
Kael leaned against the fence. "I don't know. Maybe the pain never really leaves. It just… becomes something you learn to carry."
Rys nodded. "Then we'll carry it together."
---
They stayed out there until the stars brightened overhead, until the weight of the coming day pressed too heavily for words.
Inside, Kael lingered by the window for a long time before finally going upstairs. They sat on their bed in the dark, thinking about the past year. About the versions of themselves that had existed before and after that day.
Tomorrow would be a year since everything had broken. And tomorrow, they would face it with Rys and their father by their side.
For the first time, Kael let themselves believe that maybe that was enough.
---
Morning came with a pale, silvery sky. The air had a quiet chill to it, the kind that sharpened every sound.
Kael rose early, dressing without a word. Downstairs, their father had already lit a small fire, and Rys was setting a basket by the door.
No one asked if they were ready. It was the kind of day that didn't need asking.
---
The path to the stream was familiar, yet different. Each step carried memory. Kael led the way, the basket of flowers balanced on one arm while the other hand brushed against the branches of tall grasses that lined the trail.
Behind them, Rys carried the lanterns and candles, while their father walked quietly, gaze fixed ahead.
The stream came into view, glittering faintly under the cloudy light. Its banks were scattered with stones and soft moss. It was the same place they had come to on that terrible day a year ago, but now it had been shaped into a place of remembrance.
---
Someone—maybe all of them, bit by bit over the year—had cleared a small circle by the water. Flat stones made a path down to the edge, where a few smooth river rocks formed a low border around an open space.
Kael stepped into it and knelt, setting the flowers down in the center. The soft scent of lilies drifted upward.
Rys came forward next, arranging the paper lanterns in a circle, anchoring each one with a small pebble so they wouldn't blow away before nightfall. The candles were placed within easy reach for later.
Their father didn't move at first. He stood with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his coat, staring at the spot where the flowers now lay. Only after a moment did he step forward, crouching beside Kael to touch the petals.
---
When everything was in place, they stood together in silence. There were no words strong enough for this.
It was Kael who finally sank down to sit cross-legged on the ground, pulling out a single folded note from their pocket. It had been written weeks ago, when the words had refused to stay inside.
"I thought I'd read this," they said quietly, looking up at the others for permission.
Rys nodded. Their father lowered himself to the ground beside them.
---
Kael opened the note and began.
> "I don't know if you can hear me. Sometimes I wonder if you'd even recognize me now.
But I wanted you to know that I'm trying. I'm still trying to be someone you'd be proud of. And even though you're gone, you're still with me—in everything I do, in every choice I make.
You used to tell me that love was the strongest thing we could give someone. I didn't really understand it then. I think I do now.
I love you. Always."
The words caught a little at the end, but Kael forced themselves to finish. When they lowered the paper, their hands trembled slightly.
---
Their father reached out, pulling them into an embrace. Kael didn't resist. For a moment, they just held each other, the sound of the stream filling the quiet.
Rys stayed close, his hand brushing against Kael's shoulder in silent solidarity.
---
After that, it was their father's turn. He didn't have a note, just a simple memory.
"I remember the first time she made me come out here," he said, voice rough with emotion. "I didn't understand why she liked this spot so much. Said it made her feel small in a good way, like the world wasn't asking her to be more than herself."
He gave a quiet laugh. "I think she'd be glad we're here now."
---
As the morning drifted into afternoon, the tension began to ease. They stayed by the water, telling quiet stories, sharing food they'd packed but barely touched. Every so often, Kael would glance up, catching Rys's eyes, and find something steady there. It kept them anchored.
---
By the time the sun started to dip, the lanterns were ready. Kael lit the first candle and set it in its holder, watching as the light began to glow softly inside the paper.
They lit them one by one, forming a ring of warm flickering light around the flowers. The stream caught the glow, doubling it in reflections.
Rys stepped back, admiring the simple beauty of it. "She would've loved this."
Kael's voice was soft. "I know."
---
As darkness settled, they stood together, gazing down at what they'd created. It wasn't a grave, but it was a promise.
Kael reached for their father's hand on one side and Rys's on the other, linking them all.
No words passed between them, but none were needed. This was their offering, their way of saying they had survived the year, that they still remembered, and that they carried her forward.
---
When the lanterns burned low, they made the slow walk back home. The trail seemed longer in the dark, but they kept close, their shoulders brushing from time to time.
By the time they returned, Kael felt both lighter and heavier all at once. The day had been what it needed to be.
And now, it was over.
---
The following morning arrived without the heaviness of the previous day, but it carried a strange quiet. The house smelled faintly of woodsmoke and bread; someone—probably Rys—had been up earlier than anyone else.
Kael woke late. For once, there had been no need to rush, no urgent mission to prepare for. The room was dim, the curtain only half drawn, and they took a moment just to sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the floorboards beneath their feet.
It was the day after, and somehow, the air felt lighter.
---
Downstairs, Rys sat at the table with a cup of tea, hands around the mug. He glanced up the moment Kael came into view and offered a small, tired smile.
"You slept in," he said softly.
"Yeah," Kael replied, rubbing at their eyes. "Feels like I haven't done that in… years."
Their father appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. "You both needed it. Yesterday took its toll."
---
They ate together, the silence not awkward but companionable. Every now and then, one of them would start to speak, then stop, and that was fine too. They were allowed this kind of quiet after what the day before had been.
Kael found themselves studying Rys. He looked different when he wasn't teasing or trying to be clever. Thoughtful. Serious. Maybe he always had been, but it was only on days like these that Kael really noticed.
---
After breakfast, they decided to walk through the village. It wasn't far, but it gave them an excuse to be outside. The marketplace was busy, as it always was in the late morning, with vendors calling out and the smell of fresh bread and sweet cakes in the air.
Children darted between stalls, some with wooden toys, others chasing after each other. People waved to Kael as they passed—polite, curious, respectful. The curse made them someone memorable even when they didn't want to be.
---
There was a stall selling candles, small hand-crafted ones shaped like animals. Kael picked up one shaped like a rabbit and turned it over in their hands.
"You want it?" Rys asked.
Kael shrugged. "Just looking."
Rys reached over, put a few coins down on the counter, and handed it to them anyway.
"You didn't need to—"
"I know," he said simply, smiling. "But I wanted to."
---
The rest of the morning drifted by like that: little things, small kindnesses. They stopped at the blacksmith's to fix a strap on Kael's travel bag. They sat on the low stone wall by the fountain to listen to a pair of traveling musicians play an unfamiliar tune.
By the time they returned home, the sun was leaning toward afternoon, shadows stretching across the ground.
---
Later that day, Kael slipped away to the back of the house, sitting under the old tree. They closed their eyes, feeling the breeze tug gently at their hair. This had been the same tree they had sat beneath countless times as a child, before everything became so complicated.
Footsteps approached. Rys sat down next to them, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
"You okay?" he asked.
Kael nodded. "Just thinking."
---
They stayed like that for a while, watching the leaves shift. It wasn't the kind of conversation that needed words. After a few minutes, Rys let out a slow breath.
"You know," he said, "I don't think I've ever thanked you."
"For what?"
"For letting me be here for you. Yesterday, today… all of it."
Kael glanced at him. "You don't need to thank me for that."
"Maybe not. But I still want to."
---
Kael's father joined them a little while later, sitting on the other side. He handed Kael a folded bit of paper.
"What's this?" Kael asked.
"Names," he said simply. "People who might be looking for someone to take on missions. You'll need good partners for the coming months."
Kael tucked the paper into their pocket. "Thanks."
"I know you want to keep moving forward," he added, his voice quiet but firm. "But don't let yourself forget to stop every now and then. Like today."
---
As the sun began to lower, painting the edges of the sky with pale gold, Kael stood.
"I should get cleaned up," they said, brushing off their trousers. "We've got plans tonight."
Rys raised an eyebrow. "Plans?"
Kael nodded once. "Dinner. Just you and me. After everything… I think we need that."
There was a flicker in Rys's expression—surprise first, then something warmer, steadier. "Alright," he said softly. "Dinner."
---
The 2 of them walked back toward the house together. Kael felt lighter than they had that morning. The weight of yesterday wasn't gone, but it had been set down for a while.
This day, quieter than the one before, had given them a chance to breathe.
And tonight, Kael had decided, would be for something else entirely.
---
By the time evening fell, the house was still. Kael had asked their father for a little time alone with Rys, and he had agreed, disappearing upstairs with a small smile that didn't need words.
Kael lit a few lanterns in the dining room, arranging them so the light was soft and golden. There wasn't much to set on the table—just simple food they'd made together that afternoon—but the quiet effort mattered more than anything elaborate.
When Rys walked in, he stopped at the doorway.
"You weren't kidding," he said softly. "You really meant dinner."
Kael glanced up, half-smiling. "I told you."
---
They sat across from each other at first, the table between them. The food was nothing fancy: roasted vegetables, fresh bread, a bit of dried meat, and berries from the market.
For a while, they ate in companionable silence, the lantern light casting shifting patterns on the walls.
After a while, Rys leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "You know, I don't think we've done this before," he said. "Not like this."
"Not just the two of us," Kael agreed.
"Why now?"
Kael set down their fork, thinking carefully before answering. "Because after yesterday, I realized something. How easy it is to keep putting things off. I don't want to keep waiting to tell people what matters to me."
---
That caught Rys off guard. His gaze softened. "And I matter?"
"You matter," Kael said plainly. "More than I've been willing to admit out loud."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The room seemed to shrink, as if it was holding its breath around them.
---
After they finished eating, Kael stood. "Come on."
Rys followed them out of the dining room and into the small backyard. The sky was wide open above, stars sharp against the dark. They sat together on the low stone step.
Kael tilted their head back to look up. "Do you ever think about what it means? To really love someone?"
Rys glanced over at them. "All the time."
Kael hesitated, then spoke slowly. "There's something I need to explain. About the curse."
---
Rys waited, listening intently.
"It's not just any kiss that will break it," Kael said. "It has to be a kiss of true love. And a kiss of true love isn't only about romance. It can be between friends, family—anyone who truly loves the other person. But…" They paused, steadying their voice. "Only a kiss of true love with my fated mate can break it."
Rys's brow furrowed, his voice careful. "So even if someone loves you, and you love them back, that kiss won't work unless they're the one?"
"Exactly," Kael said. "It's not about strength of feeling alone. It's about… fate."
---
Rys looked away for a moment, then back at Kael. "And you think I'm not the one?"
"I don't know," Kael admitted. "I've never known. But I need to be honest with you. From the moment we met, I never felt that instant pull I always thought came with meeting your fated mate. It doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means I don't know if this ends with us."
The words were quiet, almost apologetic, but they were steady.
---
Rys didn't answer immediately. He let the silence stretch, weighing what Kael had said. Then, finally, he nodded.
"I knew, deep down," he said. "But I wanted to be close to you anyway. Even if I'm not the one, I want as much of whatever this is as we can have."
Kael's chest tightened. "So do I."
---
There was a moment where they just looked at each other, unspoken words thick in the air. Then Kael leaned in, closing the space between them.
The kiss wasn't rushed. It wasn't hesitant either. It was deliberate, built from everything they'd both been holding back. It carried every memory of laughter and every tear they'd shared in the past year, all of it condensed into a single touch.
And yet, when Kael pulled back, the world didn't change. The curse didn't shatter.
---
Kael exhaled slowly. "I felt it," they whispered. "I know you love me. I love you too. But…"
"It didn't break," Rys said softly. His voice wasn't surprised, but there was a shadow of sadness in it.
"No," Kael said. "It didn't."
---
For a long moment, they just sat there, close enough that their foreheads almost touched. Rys's voice came quiet but firm.
"Then let's love each other anyway. Even if it doesn't end the curse. Even if this isn't forever. We'll make it count."
Kael searched his face, then nodded. "We'll make it count."
---
They stayed out under the stars long after that, shoulders touching, the kiss still lingering between them. For a while, they said nothing. Words weren't needed anymore.
When they finally stood to go back inside, Rys reached for Kael's hand. This time, Kael didn't hesitate.
Hand in hand, they walked back to the house.
The stars wheeled overhead. The curse was still there, untouched, but Kael felt lighter, anchored by a choice made freely: to hold on to love even when it couldn't save them.