Sky jolted awake.
His breath tore from his chest like something ripped from a nightmare. The sheets clung to his skin, damp with sweat. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of the penthouse, white and cruel against the dark silk.
For a heartbeat, he didn't know where he was—only the echo of pain, the faint scent of smoke and blood, and the name that left his lips before thought could stop it.
"Nani—"
He gasped, clutching his ribs. The wounds there still burned, threads of silver under the skin where the venom hadn't fully healed. His veins ached with power — the residue of the light he had unleashed. The air around him shimmered faintly, still responding to him like the world itself feared his breath.
But it wasn't the pain that made him shake.
It was the bond.
He could feel it.
A pulse that wasn't his own.
A heartbeat that thrummed faintly in his chest, slow, ancient, unrelenting.
Every inhale tugged at him — at them — as if the curse had braided their souls too tightly to ever come undone.
He stumbled out of bed, half-dressed, his bare feet hitting the cold marble. The room tilted, vision swimming.
He could sense Nani somewhere in the penthouse — the same way he could sense the moon.
The same way he could feel his own light tearing something holy apart.
"You shouldn't move."
The voice came from the shadows — low, velvety, and too close.
Nani.
He wore only a black silk robe, half open at the chest.
Beneath the pale light, the fabric hung loose, revealing the mark etched across his skin — a network of sigils carved in old language, glowing faintly gold and silver.
The lines climbed from his ribs to his throat, alive with light that shouldn't exist in a vampire's body. The faint curl of smoke rose where the burn hadn't healed.
Sky's heart stopped.
"No…" he whispered, eyes wide, trembling. "No, what have I—"
Nani silenced him with a look, that calm, unshakable stare that always made Sky forget how to breathe.
"You didn't do this," he said softly. "The curse did."
Sky's throat tightened. His voice came out hoarse.
"You shouldn't be near me."
Nani's eyes — molten amber, dimmed with exhaustion — lifted to his.
And yet, here I am."
Sky flinched. "You don't understand—my blood burns you. My light kills you."
Nani took a single step forward, the quiet of it more commanding than any threat.
"Then let it. Better your fire than the world's claws."
The words hit Sky like a blow. He shook his head violently, tears spilling before he could stop them.
"Stop talking like that! Don't—don't make this sound easy."
His voice broke, anger and sorrow twisting together. "You think I want this? You think I don't hate what I feel every time you look at me?"
The silence stretched between them, sharp enough to cut.
"Then hate me," Nani said softly, stepping closer still. "If that's what keeps you breathing. But don't lie to yourself, Guardian. You wouldn't bleed for something you hate."
Sky froze — breath caught in his throat. The mark at his chest pulsed, burning beneath the skin, answering the same rhythm in Nani's veins.
"I've tried," Sky whispered. "Every lifetime. I've tried not to love you."
Something flickered in Nani's eyes — old pain, old memory — something that shouldn't be possible for a creature who'd long stopped dreaming. He reached out, slowly, his hand trembling just once before resting against Sky's cheek.
The touch was cool, steady. Sky should have pulled away, should have remembered every reason he swore to despise him.
But he leaned in instead— Just enough for their forehead to touch.
"You are everything I was never meant to have," Sky breathed.
"And everything I can't stop coming back to."
Nani's hand slid to the back of his neck, fingertips brushing the edge of his ward — his mark.
"Then stop running," he murmured. "Just for tonight."
Sky's breath hitched. He wanted to speak, to fight, but the words drowned under the pull between them — the heat, the ache, the gravity that had dragged their souls through centuries.
He reached up and touched Nani's sigil — the charred lines and molten glow that marked where his power had burned him. It pulsed faintly under his palm, alive, dangerous.
"Why are you doing this?" Sky whispered. "Why won't you hate me like you should?"
Nani smiled — tired, almost human.
"Because I already did. Once. And I never survived it."
For a moment, the room went utterly silent.
The world seemed to narrow to the space between them — to the pull that neither curse nor reason could break.
Sky's light flared, faint and trembling.
Nani's sigil burned brighter in answer.
They stood there, bound by pain and want and fate — the Guardian who could burn him, and the Supreme who refused to let go.
"You can't protect me from what I already am," Nani whispered.
That broke him. Sky's breath hitched, his knees gave way, and before he could fall, Nani's arms caught him.
"Then I'll die trying," Sky answered, voice shaking.
He clung to him then — not as a soldier to his master, not as a wolf to a vampire, but as someone who was finally too tired to fight what his soul had already chosen.
"I don't want to lose you again," Sky choked against his shoulder.
"Then don't," Nani murmured. His voice was raw, low, steady — like a vow spoken through centuries of ruin. "Stay."
Sky nodded once, a trembling sound leaving his throat — half sob, half surrender — before he buried his face against Nani's chest.
Nani guided him gently to the bed, still holding him as though letting go would break the fragile thread that kept them alive.
They lay down together, wrapped in the soft dark, marks still faintly aglow — gold tangled with silver, curse with salvation.
Sky's fingers curled into the silk at Nani's shoulder, and Nani's breath ghosted through his hair.
Neither spoke again. There was nothing left to say.
Only the soft, impossible truth that had followed them through lifetimes:
no matter how many times the world burned, they would always find each other in the ashes.
The moonlight broke against them — silver and gold, fire and shadow — as if even the night itself couldn't decide which one to save.