The Weight of Unwanted Allies

Kain Rivel slumped against his shack's wall, the dual axes discarded beside him like relics of his despair. Leon Valtor's threat—"Next time, Rivel, no running"—echoed from yesterday's clash, fueled by Mya Seraphine's defense of him. In The Blade of Eternity, Leon and Mya were destined lovers, but now Kain—a coughing, axe-dropping extra—had turned Leon into an enemy and Mya into something far scarier: his protector, his shadow, his… something else. Her touch lingered in his mind, cold yet oddly warm, and he hated how it rattled him.

"She's crazy," he muttered, rubbing his chest where a cough brewed. "And I'm crazier for noticing." The axes glinted, mocking him. His "fame" had exploded—travelers camped outside Rivermist, spinning tales of the "axe hero" who'd defied a knight. Mya's doing. She wouldn't let him fade—or die.

A shout broke his haze. "Kain! Trouble!" Marta's voice, panicked. Kain groaned, grabbing the harness. The axes clanked as he stumbled out, coughing.

The square teemed with villagers and strangers, staring at dust on the horizon. Hooves thundered—not Leon's gold armor, but bandits in patched leather, spears gleaming. Kain's gut twisted.

"Kain Rivel!" their leader, a scarred man, bellowed, reining his horse. "Wolf slayer! Boar hunter! We're here for you!"

Kain's knees buckled, the axes dragging. "For me? I'm nobody!" he rasped, but the villagers shoved him forward.

"Our hero'll sort 'em!" Tobin yelled, clapping his back. An axe fell, thudding into the dirt.

"Sort what?" Kain yelped, retrieving it. "They'll skewer me!"

The bandit dismounted, grinning. "Skewer? Nah. Join. You're a legend. We want in." He tossed a sack of coins at Kain's feet. "Protection fee. You lead, we follow."

Kain coughed, gaping. "Lead? I can't lead!"

"Modest!" Marta cried. "Perfect!"

A laugh—soft, chilling—cut through. Mya stepped from the crowd, silver hair glinting, sword at her side. Her violet eyes locked on Kain, softer than usual. "Bandits," she said, her smile curling. "Your allies, Kain Rivel."

"Allies?" he squeaked, backing away. The axes swung, tripping him. "They're nuts! I didn't—"

She caught him, her hands steadying his shoulders. "You did," she murmured, her breath warm on his neck. "You draw them. Like you draw me."

Kain froze, heat creeping up his face. "Draw you?" he stammered, the axes forgotten. Her grip tightened, not painful—just close. Too close.

"Strength," she said, her voice low, eyes glinting. "Even in weakness. I see it. I want it." She brushed his cheek, her touch sparking something he couldn't name—fear, maybe, or worse, a flicker of warmth.

"Stop that!" he rasped, pulling away. The axes clanked, grounding him. "This isn't—I'm not—"

A horn blared. Dust rose—golden armor gleamed. Leon rode in with two knights, his face thunderous. He dismounted, sword drawn, glaring at Kain and the bandits.

"Rivel," he snarled. "A gang now? With her?" He nodded at Mya, who smirked.

"No gang!" Kain yelled, waving his arms. An axe slipped, crashing into a barrel. "They just showed up!"

"Too late," Leon said, advancing. "You're a threat. I'll end it."

Mya stepped between them, sword flashing. "Touch him," she said, "and you'll bleed." Her tone softened as she glanced at Kain. "He's mine."

Leon halted, furious. "Yours? Over me?"

"Always," she said, her smile twitching. She grabbed Kain's hand, lacing her fingers with his—firm, possessive. "He's more than you'll ever be."

Kain's heart stuttered, her touch burning. "Let go!" he squeaked, but her grip held, and—damn it—he didn't hate it as much as he should. "I'm not worth this!"

The bandits bristled. "He's our boss!" the leader barked. "Back off!"

Leon's eyes blazed. "An army," he spat. "You've corrupted her, Rivel." He lunged at Mya, sword arcing. She parried, their blades clashing in sparks. Kain staggered back, the axes tripping him as the crowd screamed.

"Stop!" he shouted, coughing. "I'm not fighting!" But Mya glanced mid-strike, her eyes fierce—and tender.

"For you," she mouthed, driving Leon back.

"For me?" Kain wheezed, clutching an axe. Her words hit harder than the blade—he didn't want to feel it, this pull, but it was there, twisting his panic into something messy.

Leon roared, shoving Mya off. "This isn't over, Rivel!" he yelled, mounting his horse. "I'll crush you!" He rode off, knights trailing, dust swirling.

The bandits cheered, slapping Kain's back as he coughed. Mya sheathed her sword, kneeling beside him. "He's gone," she said, cupping his face. "You're safe."

"Safe?" he rasped, her hands warm now, too warm. "You're insane! He hates me more!"

"Good," she said, leaning closer. "Enemies make you stronger. For me." Her lips brushed his forehead—quick, electric. Kain jolted, heat flooding his face.

"Stop—" he stammered, but she stood, pulling him up.

"Rest," she said, her smile possessive yet soft. "Tomorrow, we plan. Together."

"Together?" he croaked, the axes dragging. Her touch lingered in his mind, a tangle of dread and—gods help him—something else.

She walked off, the bandits trailing. The villagers sang his "victory." Kain sank down, coughing. "She's mad," he thought. "And I'm madder for blushing." Leon's grudge—and Mya's heart—buried him deeper.