The forest swallowed them like a held breath.
Shadows raced between the trees, torn apart by distant lightning.
Mud clung to their boots; the air reeked of smoke and iron.
Damian ran ahead, dragging Naiara by the hand, while behind them the island burned, a glowing inferno swallowing the sky.
Her heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum.
Her lungs burned, her knees wobbled, but she didn't stop.
She trusted him.
She had always trusted him.
"Just a little more…" Damian said without turning around, his voice hoarse and ragged from running.
She nodded, breathless, tightening her grip on his hand, as if that single touch was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
They broke through the tree line and reached a small gap between the rocks.
Damian pushed aside a heavy boulder, revealing a narrow sea-carved cave.
Inside, the air was damp and sharp with salt.
"They won't find us here," he muttered, scanning the darkness.
His broad shoulders rose and fell with every uneven breath.
Naiara collapsed against the stone wall, shaking. Her arms were cut and scraped, her face streaked with soot and tears, her hands sticky with dried blood.
Damian knelt beside her, his own breath still unsteady.
"Let me see your wounds," he said, his voice somewhere between an order and a plea.
She shook her head. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
He opened a canteen, wet a cloth, and began gently wiping the blood from her skin. The touch was light, almost reverent, carrying the weight of all the things they hadn't said.
That's when she saw it, the blood running down his neck.
A deep gash, still bleeding.
"Leo!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "Your neck! You're bleeding!"
Damian gave a faint, crooked smile. "It's nothing, Tigna."
"Don't say that," she whispered, touching his cheek. "Please, sit down."
He dropped beside her, his back to the wall.
The sound of the waves filled the cave like a heartbeat.
He looked at her for a long moment, as if afraid she might vanish if he blinked.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.
She frowned. "For what?"
"For not doing anything while that man touched you. I swear, Nay, it took everything I had not to kill him. But if I had moved… we'd both be dead."
She lowered her eyes, her voice trembling. "You don't have to apologize. You saved me, Leo. You're the only one who's never hurt me."
Damian looked away, jaw tight, then slowly reached for her hand.
Their fingers laced together, trembling, unsure, alive.
"You shouldn't trust me," he muttered. But his tone betrayed him; it wasn't a warning, it was pain.
"I only trust you," she said softly.
Their foreheads met.
The world stilled.
Damian felt her breath on his lips, the salt of her hair, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid, not of dying, but of losing her.
The kiss came like a broken breath.
Slow, desperate, full of everything they had tried to suppress.
His hands moved through her hair, over her face, down her neck.
She clung to him in return, her fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm, proof that he was real.
When they parted, both were trembling.
He brushed her cheek gently. "You need to rest," he murmured, voice unsteady. "Tomorrow we'll find a way out. I'll get you off this island, Tigna. I swear it."
She nodded, her eyes soft and full of fragile faith.
Damian rose, set the torch down, and bent over her leg to check a cut.
His sleeve slipped to his elbow.
Naiara instinctively reached out to touch his arm, and froze.
Something was wrong.
Her eyes followed the curve of his forearm.
Smooth skin.
No mark.
No scar.
The breath caught in her throat. Her mind rebelled against what she was seeing.
That scar, thin, pale, running along the muscle, she knew it.
She had traced it with her fingertips countless times, memorized it in the dark.
But now… it was gone.
The world tilted.
The sound of the waves blurred into a low hum.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, wild, panicked.
Damian looked up, sensing her silence.
"Naiara? What's wrong?"
She stepped back, her pulse hammering.
Her face had gone white.
Her voice trembled when she spoke.
"You…"
A breath.
A pause.
Then, barely audible: "Who are you?"
He froze.
Neither spoke.
Only the sea answered, crashing, relentless, as the truth waited, silent and merciless, between them.