The world outside had gone quiet.
Only the soft hiss of the ward filled the air — a silver veil shimmering between Sky and the bed where Nani lay.
Sky stood at the edge of it, barefoot on cold stone, his breath shallow. The faint glow from the moonlight dripping through the window touched the pale curve of Nani's cheek, painting him in silver and shadow. He looked almost peaceful. Almost.
But Sky knew better.
He could feel him — the echo of his heartbeat, faint but there, pulsing through the bond that tethered them. The pain bleeding through it was unbearable. It wasn't physical; it was deeper, older. Grief that stretched through centuries. Loneliness that had no name.
Sky's fingers twitched.
He wanted to reach out. To cross the line.
To press his hand against that still chest and whisper that he was here. That he wasn't going anywhere.
But the ward hummed between them — Nani's magic, protective and unyielding. If he stepped through it, his guardian energy could tear open the fragile healing Nani fought to hold.
So he stayed. Watching. Silent.
A wolf trapped behind glass.
His voice cracked when he finally whispered,
"Why do you always do this...?"
The question wasn't for Nani — it was for the universe, for the curse, for the gods who tied their souls together only to tear them apart again.
The faint sound of breath drew his gaze —
Nani stirred.
His eyelids fluttered open, lashes trembling like dark silk. For a heartbeat, his gaze was unfocused. Then his eyes — those impossible, ancient eyes — found Sky.
Weak, yes. But calm. Steady.
And when he saw the broken mess before him — Sky pale and trembling, guilt carved into every breath — a soft sigh escaped his lips.
"Sky..."
That voice, even low and worn, struck something deep inside the Guardian. His composure cracked.
He took an instinctive step forward — the ward hissed warningly — and he froze.
Then Nani lifted his hand.
Slow. Deliberate. Fingers shaking.
The air rippled — a faint shimmer of light.
The ward collapsed like mist, dissolving into the air with a soft hum.
"Come here," Nani whispered.
Sky didn't hesitate.
He was across the room in a single breath — dropping to his knees beside the bed, hands trembling as he reached for him.
And when Nani's arms came up — weak but still sure — Sky let himself fall into them.
The contact was almost too much.
The scent of him — cool and metallic like rain over stone — filled Sky's lungs. His pulse roared in his ears. The bond between them flared, raw and tender, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the world went still.
Nani's hand came up, finding the back of Sky's head, fingers threading through his hair. His touch was warm — too warm. Sky could feel the heat from his half-healed burns, could smell the faint scent of ash and blood under the silk.
He wanted to cry. He almost did.
"You're still here," Nani murmured, voice barely a breath.
Sky nodded against his chest. "Always."
"You shouldn't be," Nani said softly, eyes closing again. "You burn me every time, and still—"
"Then let me burn with you," Sky whispered fiercely, pulling back just enough to look at him. "I can't stand here watching you fight alone anymore. I don't care what the curse wants. I don't care what I am."
For a moment, Nani just looked at him — tired, beautiful, ageless — and something unreadable passed through his eyes. Regret, love, despair, all tangled together.
Then, with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes, he said,
"You never did listen."
Sky pressed his forehead to Nani's, trembling. "Not when it comes to you."
The moonlight shifted, washing over them, two souls caught between curse and destiny — both too stubborn, too broken, too in love to let go.
----
The silence between them lingered, fragile but warm.
Sky stayed close, still half-curled against Nani's chest. The faint rhythm beneath his ear was uneven but steady — a heartbeat he'd nearly lost. He could feel the ancient power beneath Nani's skin, restrained but restless, still smoldering where the burns refused to fade.
Nani brushed his thumb across Sky's jaw, tracing the faint shimmer of light that pulsed beneath the Guardian's skin.
"You shouldn't have come for me," he murmured, though his tone had softened — not anger, but exhaustion, fond and helpless.
"You're reckless. You always were."
Sky's lips quirked faintly. "You knew that before you fell for me."
A soft chuckle escaped Nani — low, hoarse, but real. It filled the air between them like a forgotten melody. "Foolish wolf," he whispered, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen across Sky's brow.
Then the humor faded. His gaze turned distant, shadowed with the weight of centuries.
"They know now," he said quietly. "The wolves. They've seen their Guardian. I can't hide you anymore, Sky. Not from them. Not from the Council."
Sky stiffened, eyes flicking up to meet his. "The Council—?"
"Word travels faster than truth," Nani continued, voice low and heavy. "The moment Magnus and Alexander recover, the Elders will know. And once they do, every faction will want a piece of what you are."
He reached for Sky's hand, fingers lacing through his, cool against warmth.
"Some will want to worship you. Others will want to bleed you."
The words settled like ash.
Sky swallowed hard, jaw tightening. "Let them come."
Nani gave a faint smile — one that didn't hide the sadness in his eyes.
"They will. Wolves, witches, even our kind. The witches especially — they can feel your blood call. The Mara stirs again, and something in you... answers it. I can feel it."
Sky looked down, guilt flashing in his expression. "It's my fault."
"No." Nani's voice sharpened, though his hand tightened around Sky's. "Don't ever say that. This curse began long before you were born."
He sighed, leaning back slightly, the faint tremor of fatigue slipping through. "The Mara's rebirth will divide the factions. Wolves will defend their Guardian, vampires will protect their claim, and the witches will hunt to reclaim the balance. War is no longer a matter of if — it's a matter of who strikes first."
Sky's throat worked, words caught between fear and defiance. "And you?"
Nani looked at him — eyes dark, old, full of storms and sorrow.
"Me?" he said softly. "I'll do what I've always done, Sky. Stand between the world and you. Even if it burns me again."
The silence stretched — heavy, thick with emotion — until Sky leaned forward and pressed his lips to Nani's forehead.
"Then I'll stand between you and the world," he whispered.
Before Nani could respond, the door creaked open.
"Well," Felix said, voice breaking the quiet, "is this a bad time, or are we interrupting another near-death love confession?"
PP elbowed him lightly, stepping in behind with a tray of herbs and glowing vials. "Felix, please. They just saved half the continent. Let them have their melodrama."
Then, with a dramatic sigh, "Though, for the record, if either of them decides to faint again, I'm not cleaning up the ashes."
Sky blinked. Amused. "PP—"
"Don't you 'PP' me, young man. Do you have any idea how hard it is to mix a healing potion strong enough for an immortal with a death wish and a Guardian who glows like a dying star? I've aged at least thirty years in one night."
Felix snorted. "You were already ancient, old man."
PP threw him a look sharp enough to curdle milk. "Says the student who nearly turned his lab into a crater again."
Even Nani managed a faint smirk. The weight in the room lifted, just slightly — enough to breathe.
Felix softened when he looked between Nani and Sky, his expression turning gentle. "It's good to see you both alive. You scared the hell out of everyone, you know."
Sky managed a small, tired smile. "We're good at that."
"Try not to make it a habit," Felix said dryly, before glancing at Nani. "The Council's already stirring, by the way. William's trying to buy us time, but..." He hesitated. "We need to move soon."
Nani's gaze darkened again, but his tone remained even.
"Let them stir. For now, let the night rest. We'll face them when dawn comes."
Felix nodded, exchanging a look with PP, who sighed.
"Fine, fine. But don't bleed on my floor again. This is antique wood."
The corner of Sky's mouth curved despite everything. He looked at Nani again — still pale, still fragile — and reached for his hand under the covers.
Their fingers intertwined silently, the air between them calm for the first time in what felt like forever.
Outside, the moon hung low — its light blue and solemn — watching as the world prepared to fracture once more.