A Kiss in the Morning Light

The world awakens in gold.

Sunlight filters through the gaps in the wooden shed, soft and drowsy, casting long beams of warmth across the floor. The rain has passed, leaving behind the scent of damp wood and salt, the air crisp and fresh.

For the first time since arriving in this world, I wake up feeling… content.

Warm.

Safe.

And then, as I shift slightly, I realise why.

Elias is still asleep beside me, his breathing slow, even, his dark hair tousled against the wooden floor. His face is turned toward me, shadows playing gently against his features, softening the sharp angles into something almost… peaceful.

He looks different like this.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just asleep.

And without thinking—without truly meaning to—I move closer.

——

The warmth of his breath fans across my skin as I lean in.

My heart thrums—steady, unhurried—as I hover just above him, taking in the details I never truly let myself see.

His lashes, dark against his skin. The faint crease between his brows, like he is always thinking, even in sleep.

The way his lips part slightly, unaware, unguarded.

I do not know what possesses me.

Maybe it is the golden morning light.

Maybe it is the remnants of the storm still clinging to the edges of my thoughts.

Maybe it is simply him.

But before I can stop myself—before I can think better of it—

I steal a kiss.

——

It is barely there, a whisper of warmth against his lips, fleeting and featherlight.

A touch.

A secret.

A sin.

My chest tightens, heat curling in my stomach, and for the first time since I woke, I feel a thrill of something reckless run through me.

Then—just as quickly as it began—

I pull away.

Elias stirs, murmuring something incoherent, shifting slightly but not waking.

My heart pounds.

I exhale, slow and careful, letting the moment settle.

Then, before he can wake, I rise to my feet, stretching my limbs and stepping out into the morning light.

The day awaits.

——

Velia in the morning is breathtaking.

The rain has washed the village clean, leaving behind cobblestones that glisten beneath the sunlight, rooftops that glimmer with lingering droplets. The sky is a brilliant blue, the clouds drifting lazily, unhurried and free.

The scent of fresh bread and salted fish drifts through the air, mingling with the damp earth. The wind is crisp but gentle, carrying with it the distant laughter of children, and the rhythmic hammering of a blacksmith at work.

It feels… alive.

And so do I.

——

By the time Elias stumbles out of the shed, still half-asleep and muttering complaints about wooden floors ruining his spine, I have already found our next destination.

"Food first," I declare.

Elias grumbles but follows, his hood pulled up against the morning chill.

We return to the bakery from yesterday, greeted once again by the scent of warm bread and the familiar sight of Isolde moving baskets of goods to the front.

She glances up, smirking. "Didn't think I'd see you two again so soon."

Elias sighs dramatically. "Trust me, I'd rather be waking up somewhere else."

I elbow him.

Isolde chuckles, shaking her head. "Well, you earned your keep yesterday. I'll throw in some breakfast."

She hands us warm rolls—fresh from the oven, their crust crisp, their scent rich with butter and herbs.

I take a bite.

It is the best thing I have ever tasted.

Elias makes a sound, low and content, as he takes his first bite, and I pretend not to notice the way his shoulders relax.

For all his complaining, he enjoys this as much as I do.

We eat in comfortable silence, the warmth of the bread filling our stomachs, the sunlight settling over us like a familiar embrace.

And then—once the last crumbs are gone—we begin.

——

I take the lead in asking about combat-related work.

Isolde directs me toward Dane, a weathered-looking man near the edge of the docks, his arms thick with muscle, his tunic stained with salt and sweat.

"Fighters?" he muses when I ask. "Not much need for 'em here, girl. Velia's not a place for bloodshed."

I nod, absorbing the words. "But if I were looking for work that requires strength?"

Dane scratches his beard. "Guards, maybe. But you'd have to head inland for that. Velia's too quiet for its own militia."

Guards.

Mercenary work.

Possibilities.

I file the information away, offering my thanks before stepping aside for Elias's turn.

——

He, of course, takes a different approach.

"So," he begins smoothly, leaning against a wooden railing, "if one wanted to make money without lifting crates all day, where would they start?"

Dane snorts. "Lazy, are you?"

Elias grins. "Efficient."

The older man chuckles, shaking his head. "Trade, then. Merchants come through here often enough. If you've got something worth selling, you can make coin fast."

Elias hums. "And if I don't?"

Dane shrugs. "Then find something. Buy low, sell high. That's how it works."

Elias's eyes flicker with interest.

I recognise that look.

It is the look of a man whose mind is already turning, already scheming.

And somehow, that is more dangerous than any weapon I carry.

——

By the time we regroup, the sun is high, the morning fading into the golden haze of midday.

Elias stretches, sighing. "Alright. So we have two paths."

I nod. "We fight, or we trade."

"Or both," he adds, thoughtful. "If we do combat work, we could use that to fund trade. Get something worth selling."

I fold my arms. "You really think we can just become merchants?"

Elias smirks. "Not overnight. But give me time, and I'll figure something out."

I exhale, shaking my head. "Then I'll focus on finding work that requires a blade."

He nods. "Sounds fair."

And just like that—

We have a plan.

——

The road ahead is still uncertain.

We do not know where we will go, who we will meet, what we will become.

But for now, beneath the sunlit sky, with the taste of warm bread lingering on my tongue and the memory of a stolen kiss still thrumming in my chest—

For now, we move forward.