Lillies

Even the faintest spark holds the promise of dawn.

I stirred slowly, still wrapped in the quiet warmth beside Lil.

Carefully, I reached out and traced the gentle curve of her face with my fingertips—soft. So fucking soft.

Her eyelids fluttered but she didn't open her eyes yet.

I leaned in closer, breathing in the comforting scent of her—earthy and familiar. Fingers gently brushed over her skin as I nestled against her.

My lips brushed softly against her skin, gentle and reverent at first.

When I reached the rough edges of her scars, I hesitated—then pressed a careful kiss there, feeling the texture beneath my mouth.

There was something fierce in those marks, a story written in flesh and time. Strangely, it made my heart race. It was hot as hell.

I traced the scars slowly, as if honoring every battle they represented.

Her breath caught softly beneath my lips, a delicate shiver running through her as my hands found the familiar curves of her body.

Every touch, every sigh—an intimate dance where the world outside ceased to exist. We moved together, wordless and sometimes slow and sometimes driven by insane desire.

When she finally let herself go, the veins along her body lit up, glowing softly like red-orange spider lilies blossoming on her skin—an exquisite bloom of magic pulsing gently beneath the surface.

The warmth of that light mixed with the heat between us.

I knew those lilies. In past lives, I'd seen their fiery bloom beneath her skin. But even with all that memory, Lil's magic always took my breath away.

I had known her body for two lifetimes, every curve, every pulse of magic ingrained deep in my soul.

Yet today, it felt new. Raw.

Lil settled herself lightly on top of me, her warmth pressing close against my skin.

Her eyes met mine, shimmering with that fierce, quiet magic that always left me breathless. As she moved, the red-orange spider lilies bloomed brighter beneath her skin, their glow pulsing with every subtle shift.

She leaned down to kiss me, and for a moment, her hair hid the world from me. I knew that her fire could scorch others without mercy, yet for me, it remained tender—and just warm enough to feel like home.

(...)

Weeks passed, quiet and steady.

Rolo buried himself in his research, his room transformed into a maze of open books, scrolls, glowing symbols, and half-empty mugs of coffee long gone cold.

He rarely came out—only for food, brief muttered updates, and to visit Alex's room.

That's where Mose still lay, unmoving, his chest rising and falling in the same soft rhythm as the day we brought him home.

Rolo would sit at his side for hours, whispering theories under his breath, tracing runes in the air above Mose's skin, gently adjusting his methods, trying again. And again.

But Mose didn't stir. Not even once.

The familiar pull of his teleportation magic dragged me through space—and I landed with a soft thud inside Livius's study.

The room was buried in paperwork. Scrolls and documents spilled across every surface, arcane seals glowing faintly, some still drying with ink. Livius didn't even glance up as we arrived.

"Good. You're here," he said, sliding a small stack of parchments across the table. "First internal reports from the New Mage Council's inaugural session. Since Mose couldn't attend, I made sure you got a copy."

I blinked. "Didn't expect homework."

Livius arched a brow. "Didn't expect the Council to bicker about the color of the chairs for twenty-seven minutes, either. Yet here we are."

I leafed through the first few pages, eyes catching on key names and a few scribbled-out insults.

"...Promising start," I murmured.

Livius hummed and then added, almost casually, "And your moon ritual—how did it go?"

I looked up, confused. "My what now?"

Mazen groaned behind me and rubbed his temples. "I reminded you three times. You ignored me every time. Once, you literally fell asleep mid-sentence."

"I was tired," I mumbled.

Livius, to my surprise, gave Mazen a rare look of shared suffering.

I folded my arms. "Alright. What moon ritual?"

Livius set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "It's tradition. Every full moon, the ruling figure of a land is to take a walk through the heart of their territory."

"...A moonlit stroll," I deadpanned.

Livius leaned back, his fingers steepled. "It's not just a stroll, Shay. It's a display."

"A display?" I echoed, frowning.

He nodded. "The full moon holds ancient magic—it reveals, it reflects, and it remembers. It's a declaration."

"A declaration of what?"

"Of rule," Livius said simply. "Of dominance. To remind everyone watching that you are king."

I tilted my head slightly. "You think anyone would watch me taking a midnight stroll?"

He gave a quiet, dry laugh. "Always. The walk under the moon is done in silence, but it speaks louder than any proclamation. It's a warning to rivals, a comfort to allies, and a message to everyone watching in the dark."

"And if I skip it?" I asked.

Mazen sighed behind me, and Livius's gaze turned sharper.

"Then your hold weakens. Slowly, quietly. Not all at once. But power has a scent, Shay. And when it begins to fade, predators notice."

I sighed, the weight of it all finally pressing me into surrender.

"Fine," I muttered. "You win. Mazen, handle the preparations. Cloak, route, ceremonial nonsense—whatever it takes."

Mazen blinked, surprised, then gave an exasperated sigh. "Of course. Because who else would know how to properly plan a moon rite in your court?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, already mentally drafting the itinerary. "You're lucky I like your chaos."

"Of course, I am," I rolled my eyes.

Livius, however, looked pleased, like a mentor who just got through to his most frustrating pupil. "Good. Your court will rest easier seeing you walk the land."

His expression softened just slightly. "And Mose? Any changes?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Rolo's working. He said… he caught a glimpse of Aelric's magic. Just before the end."

Livius froze.

The pen slipped from his fingers and hit the desk with a sharp clink.

For a breath, he didn't move. His eyes, usually calm, snapped to mine. "Say that again."

"Rolo caught a glimpse," I repeated slowly.

"How?" Livius breathed but then his lips curved into something between disbelief and resignation. "Never mind. Your court is full of monsters."

I exhaled, the corner of my mouth twitching. "You don't say…"

Mazen muttered, "He's not wrong."

I rubbed at my temples.

"I've had enough of politics for one morning," I muttered, already turning away from Livius's desk. "Bye, Livius."

I shoved the stack of council reports into Mazen's arms. "Read these. If you have any brilliant ideas, speak up. If not, then leave me some room to breathe."

Mazen opened his mouth—probably to argue—but I cut him off with a pointed look.

"Teleport me home. Please."

He sighed, muttered something under his breath about dramatic kings, and extended a hand. I grabbed it, and felt the familiar pull of his magic right away as the world twisted and vanished around me.

The world settled back into place as Mazen and I reappeared in the living room. I barely had time to orient myself when—

"Shay!!"

Alex's voice came tearing down the staircase like a thunderclap, and a second later he came bolting into the room, eyes wide, hair a mess, socks mismatched.

"He's awake!" he shouted. "Mose's awake!"

I froze mid-step.

"…What?"

"He's awake—now. Upstairs!"

The next second I was gone—taking the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping on the third, skidding into the hallway and nearly tearing the door off its hinges as I burst into the room.

"You," I said, pointing dramatically, breathless. "Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living. Took you long enough."

Mose's lips curved into a tired but unmistakable grin. "Missed you, too."

He let out a weak laugh, raspy and thin, but it was his laugh.

I strode to his bedside, completely ignoring the tears gathering in my eyes, and poked his shoulder with a finger like I was checking if he was really solid.

"I was starting to think of charging rent for your bed."

"Sounds like hell. Put me back under," Mose croaked, smiling wider.

But then his grin faltered for a moment.

"I'm... sorry," he murmured, voice hoarse. "For... everything."

I shook my head.

"Don't. You're here now. That's what matters."

Alex poked his head in, carrying a steaming cup. "Breakfast? You look like you could use it."

Mose glanced down at the tray, then back at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess I'm back to living... and eating."

Alex sat beside Mose, gently helping him take small bites from the food on the tray. I slipped quietly out and eased the door to Rolo's room closed behind me.

He looked up from his scattered notes and glowing runes, eyes tired but alert.

"Have you looked?" I asked softly.

Rolo nodded slowly, his gaze dropping back to the pages. "I have."

"How is he?" I pressed, voice low but edged with urgency.

Rolo remained silent for a long moment.

Finally, I couldn't hold back. "Rolo—how much time does he have left?"

Rolo met my eyes and weighed the words carefully. "He's weak now... but he won't die anytime soon. That much I'm certain of."

I sighed.

"Without magic," he said slowly, "Mose has less to live on. Magic isn't just power—it's part of his life force, a thread woven into his very being."

He paused, fingers tapping the edge of a parchment.

"But once he regains his magic fully, he should live as long as any mage does."

His voice held a cautious hope, but I could hear the weight behind it.

"Until then…" Rolo trailed off, gaze distant.

I nodded silently.