She's Not So Bad After All

My palm remained on his chest, the glow slowly fading but the warmth between us staying. His heartbeat steadied beneath my touch, like a promise — one that no longer belonged to prophecy or fate, but to choice.

To me.

I pulled back, but not far. His hand closed over mine, firm but gentle.

"She tried to protect us from this," I whispered. "But she knew we'd come to it anyway. She knew it would fall to us."

He nodded once, slow and solemn. "Because she saw what we are. What we could become."

The air stirred, charged. Around us, the remnants of the ruined sanctum felt like a sacred grave — where truths were buried, where blood was once spilled. The walls were etched with stories, old and broken, written in symbols only the old blood could read. They were humming now, in response to something stirring in me. In us.

"She left something behind," I said. "Lira said it was sealed in the heartstone. But she never said where it was kept."

His jaw tightened at her name, but he let it pass. "If Lira knew, she would've hidden it. Somewhere only we could find it. Somewhere tied to the bond."

I thought back — past the fear, the confusion, the moments I questioned my place in this world. And then I remembered the lake. The one beyond the Vale, past the hollowed trees where the moonlight bends unnaturally. The place where time had stilled when I first felt a genuining feeling for him, not because of magic, but because the world had paused to witness something ancient stirring.

"She brought us there," I murmured. "Before everything fell apart."

His eyes darkened with memory. "The moon-pool."

We both knew what had to come next.

The journey was silent at first.

Not out of discomfort, but reverence. The forest yielded before us, branches curling back, shadows parting. Night had fallen, but our path glowed with a faint shimmer — not from the stars, but from within. Our bond pulsed like a shared heartbeat.

"How long have you truly remembered?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

He exhaled. "Not all at once. Just… pieces. Feelings. The scent of your hair when we first stood in the ruins. The sound of your laugh when you thought I wasn't listening. And then today…" His voice dipped low. "It was like waking up and realizing I'd been dreaming for centuries."

I glanced at him, my heart aching. "You've been fighting it."

"I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid that I'd only want you because of what's in your blood. What was made of you."

I stopped walking. He did too, immediately.

"And now?"

He reached out, tucked a loose strand behind my ear. His fingers lingered.

"Now I know. Even without the bond — even if none of this magic existed — I would've found you. Somewhere. Somehow."

I didn't speak. I just rose on my toes and kissed him — not fiercely, not urgently. Just… honestly. Like a quiet answer. He kissed me back with the same weight.

The moon-pool was just as I remembered. Still. Deep. Silver like melted stars.

Except now, something in it pulsed.

The water responded to me, rippling outward in rings as I stepped closer. My reflection was strange — not wrong, but changed. My eyes carried a glint of something ageless. My hand glowed faintly even without my will.

"She's calling us," I said.

He knelt beside me, palm grazing the surface. "No. She's waiting."

I looked at him. "Are you ready?"

He didn't answer with words. He clasped my hand and pulled us both into the water.

Submersion was not drowning.It felt like floating inside memory. Threads of forgotten lives wrapped around us like silk — not suffocating, but guiding. I was falling and rising at once, sinking into a realm not bound by time or form.

And then — light.

We emerged, not in the forest, but in a chamber beneath the pool. The air was crystalline, thick with ancient energy. At the center of the chamber floated the heartstone.

It pulsed slowly, like the beat of a dying star. Encased in obsidian glass, it hovered just above a pedestal marked with twin sigils — his and mine.

"I see it," he said softly. "The last piece."

I stepped forward with him.

As we approached, whispers bloomed in the air, not voices, but impressions. Her laughter. Her final breath. Her warning.

"If they are to wield it, they must do so together."

"If one falters, the world will bleed."

The stone responded to our nearness. Cracks appeared in the obsidian, casting light like lightning through a storm.

"It won't open unless we both claim it," I realized. "It was never meant for just one."

He stepped forward, fingers outstretched. I mirrored him.

Together, we touched the glass.

The crack exploded into light.

Visions flooded my senses.

I saw her — not as a fading echo, but alive. In battle. In love. With her sword drawn and her heart torn. I saw her hold an infant, red-eyed and glowing. I saw her fall to her knees in grief as that same child was taken. I saw her cast the spell that would bind the old blood to a line yet unborn.

I saw her bind the stone with her last breath — and whisper one word into the void:

"Forgive."

I gasped as the chamber returned.

The heartstone had changed. No longer black and cold, it now pulsed red-gold, soft and warm. I reached for it, but something resisted.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It wants more than memory," I whispered. "It needs choice."

Then it dawned on me: this was the moment of reckoning.

"It wants to know," I said slowly, "if we'd sacrifice each other to win."

His eyes met mine — storm-grey and unwavering.

"We won't."

And then, without hesitation, we both lowered our hands and turned away from the stone.

We walked back.

And the stone hummed.

It floated to me.

It chose me.

I rose from the water with power in my veins. The stars seemed closer. The forest bowed. The air cracked softly as I breathed — not with destruction, but rebirth.

I held the stone now, a shard of divinity tethered to mortal flesh.

"We're not done," I said, my voice no longer trembling.

He nodded, eyes alight. "We go to her temple. We finish what was started."

I knew what was waiting.

Not just Lira.

But the truth. The reason she hid this from me. The final seal that bound my blood, our bond, and the sleeping power beneath the world.

At the temple, Lira was waiting.

She stood in the broken doorway, her cloak billowing in the wind like ash. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the stone — and the two of us holding it.

"You brought it here," she said bitterly. "You fools."

"It was never meant to stay hidden," I said.

"It was meant to protect you!" she snapped. "You think you're ready, but you have no idea what's coming. What she buried beneath the stone."

"She buried hope," he said.

"She buried chaos," Lira corrected.

Behind her, the walls groaned.

The old power stirred.

"She sealed away the firstborn of the old blood — not to destroy it, but to keep it from you."

A silence fell.

I stared at her. "Me?"

"She saw what you could become," Lira whispered. "A weapon. A salvation. Or a tyrant."

The temple shook.

"But she also saw that he," Lira gestured to him, "was your tether. Your choice."

I stepped forward.

"Then let me choose now."

The stone flared in my hand, light expanding, filling every corner of the dark.

And the seal began to break.