Chapter 6: Taming the Storm

The air between them still crackled, heavy with magic, tension, and something far more dangerous—recognition.

Zyra's chest still rose and fell in rapid succession, her body thrumming with energy she hadn't known existed. The golden flames still flickered at her fingertips, resisting her attempts to suppress them.

She had broken free of Kieran's shadows.

And yet—he had let her.

That realization unsettled her more than anything.

Zyra took a slow step back, not out of fear—but because standing too close to him felt like standing on the edge of something she couldn't name.

"I'm done playing your games," she said, voice cold.

Kieran only tilted his head slightly, silver eyes gleaming like moonlight over dark waters. "Are you?"

Zyra scowled. "You expect me to believe this was all some kind of test?"

His smirk was maddening. "You're free to believe whatever you like, celestial."

That name again.

She gritted her teeth. "Stop calling me that."

"Why?" Kieran stepped forward, his movements leisurely, controlled, yet each step sent the shadows twisting, curling around him like they were alive. "Does it unsettle you? Or are you afraid of what it means?"

Zyra wanted to deny it, wanted to shove his taunts back in his face. But deep down, she knew the answer.

She was terrified.

Because in the last few hours, she had felt things she shouldn't be able to feel.

The celestial magic inside her had always been something she could call upon, something she could control. But this… this was different.

This fire, this golden force wasn't just celestial energy.

And Kieran knew it.

He was watching her too closely, like he was studying her reactions, waiting for her to put the pieces together.

Zyra straightened her spine, forcing her expression into something unreadable. "What do you want from me?"

Kieran exhaled, the amusement in his gaze flickering—just for a moment. "I want to see what you're capable of."

"Why?"

For the first time since she had met him, he hesitated.

It was quick, a barely noticeable shift in his stance, but Zyra caught it.

She stepped closer this time, golden embers still flickering along her skin. "You keep throwing me into impossible situations, expecting me to break." Her voice was quiet but sharp. "What are you so desperate to prove, Kieran?"

His expression didn't change. But she saw it—the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers curled slightly at his sides.

Then, without warning, he moved.

Zyra barely had time to react before a force slammed into her chest, sending her flying backward.

She crashed into something solid—a barrier, invisible but unyielding. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, but she gritted her teeth and pushed back onto her feet.

Kieran stood in front of her, his hand outstretched, his magic rippling through the air.

Zyra didn't hesitate.

She lunged forward, summoning her magic, golden fire erupting from her hands. But before she could even release it, the shadows surged up, swallowing the flames whole.

Zyra's breath caught.

Her magic was gone.

Snuffed out as if it had never existed.

Kieran lowered his hand, watching her reaction. "You're powerful, Zyra. But you still don't understand how to use it."

She clenched her fists. "And you do?"

His silver eyes darkened. "I've spent my entire existence trying to understand what you are."

Zyra's pulse stumbled.

There it was again. That same look—the knowing, the certainty.

He knew exactly what she was.

And he wasn't telling her.

Anger flared in her chest. "Then maybe you should stop speaking in riddles and just tell me."

Kieran's lips curled into something that was neither amusement nor mockery. Something more dangerous.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Zyra's temper snapped.

Before she could think, before she could even rationalize it, she launched herself at him, fire roaring back to life.

Kieran let her come.

Their magic collided, gold against shadow, light against night. The force of it sent a shockwave through the air, the very ground trembling beneath them.

Zyra's fire was relentless, but Kieran's darkness was endless.

They clashed again and again, their movements too fast for thought, pure instinct guiding their attacks.

For the first time, Zyra didn't hold back.

And neither did he.

She could feel it—the moment their magic synchronized, the moment the bond between them burned hotter than ever.

Kieran faltered.

It was slight, almost imperceptible, but Zyra caught it.

She pushed harder, forcing him back step by step, fire licking at his shadows, refusing to be consumed.

Then, in one swift movement, she pivoted—and struck.

Her palm connected with his chest, and her magic exploded outward.

Kieran let out a sharp breath as the force sent him skidding back.

Zyra didn't stop.

She surged forward, grabbed the front of his tunic, and slammed him into the nearest wall.

The impact cracked the stone behind him.

They were too close now—too breathless, too furious, too much.

Zyra's fingers tightened in his shirt, her golden eyes blazing as she glared at him. "Enough of this. Tell me what you know."

Kieran's breathing was uneven, his silver gaze burning with something wild.

His lips parted slightly—as if he was about to say something—

Then—

The doors to the chamber burst open.

A soldier ran in, eyes wide with alarm. "My King—"

He froze at the sight before him.

Zyra holding Kieran against the wall, golden fire still crackling around her.

Kieran—not stopping her.

For a long, tense moment, the only sound was their breathing.

Then Kieran's lips curled just slightly.

"Dismissed."

The soldier hesitated, eyes darting between them, but then bowed and rushed out.

Zyra didn't move.

Neither did Kieran.

His gaze locked onto hers, something undeniable simmering beneath the surface.

Then, low and quiet, he murmured, "I think I rather enjoy you like this."

Zyra's breath hitched.

Before she could respond, he moved.

In one swift motion, he reversed their positions—spinning her, pressing her back against the wall instead.

His hands caged her in, his body too close, too solid, too dangerous.

And then, softly, deliberately—

"Shall I teach you what you really are, little star?"

Zyra hated the way her pulse pounded.

She hated the way his voice sent a shiver racing down her spine.

But most of all—

She hated that she wanted to say yes.

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