The orb hovered in front of him, glowing brighter now.
And it spoke.
Not in voice.
In memory.
He saw their journey. Every step. Every kiss. Every cry of pleasure, every word whispered in the dark. The fears they'd overcome. The nights they'd held each other like they were the only things left in the world. The laughter. The transformation. The burning.
And then he saw something else.
Another version of the island.
One where they hadn't embraced it.
One where the flame had died.
He saw them all alone. Lost. Divided. Afraid.
And the Heart… gone. Cold.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a warning.
What they had wasn't permanent.
It had to be chosen.
Again and again.
Every day.
The flame required tending.
Love required intention.
Desire required honesty.
The island would remain only as beautiful, only as safe, only as alive - as they allowed it to be.