Chapter 68: Embers of Destiny

Embers of Destiny

The forest was silent, as though holding its breath. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, painting the sacred grove in shades of silver and ash. Aria's skin still hummed with the residue of the Rite, the Flame of Fenrir coiled beneath her veins like a serpent waiting to strike. She flexed her fingers, half-expecting sparks to leap from them, but there was only the faintest shimmer—a ghost of the inferno she'd welcomed into her bones.

Alexander's hand lingered on the small of her back, steadying her as they walked away from the grove. His touch was warm, grounding, but his silence spoke louder than words. She glanced at him, noting the furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw.

"You're angry," she said, her voice low.

He didn't look at her. "Not angry. Terrified."

The admission hung between them, raw and unvarnished. Aria stopped walking, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Of me?"