The Spark I Didn’t Expect

Kain Rivel stood in Rivermist's square, the dual axes at his hips glinting under torchlight. The scout ambush—two of Leon's men downed by traps—had sent a message, but Kain's coughs still echoed, his arm still bled faintly. Mya Seraphine lingered nearby, her silver hair wild, her violet eyes fixed on him—love, faith, that edge he couldn't shake. Her kiss from the woods (Ch. 16) burned, her "yours" a vow he fought but felt. He wasn't her pawn, but damn if she didn't light something in him.

"Scouts are gone," he rasped, kicking a crate. A cough doubled him over, but he straightened, glaring at the axes. "Leon's next."

Mya approached, her sword sheathed, her smile sharp. "He'll come," she said, her hand brushing his harness—warm, steady. "And we'll break him."

"We?" Kain snapped, stepping back. The axes clanked, grounding him. "I break him! My way!" Her smile softened—damn her—and he glared. "Stop grinning!"

"I can't," she said, her voice low. "You're fierce. Mine." Her fingers grazed his chest, and Kain's pulse jumped—anger, want, tangled tight.

"Yours?" He growled, shoving her hand off. "I'm me!" A cough flared, but he held her gaze—defiant, burning. "I don't need you hovering!"

"You don't," she whispered, stepping closer. "But I'm here." Her lips hovered—fierce, tempting—and Kain's grip tightened on an axe, torn.

A shout cut through—"Kain!"—and he spun. The bandit leader jogged up, panting. "More tracks! East—three riders, armed heavy!"

Kain's gut twisted, coughing. "Three?" he rasped. "Leon's pushing." He turned to Mya, her sword half-drawn. "Traps won't hold 'em."

"Then we fight," she said, her smile wild—loving. "You lead."

"Damn right," he growled, yanking both axes free. They wobbled, but he squared up, coughing through the strain. "Let's go!"

They sprinted east—Kain, Mya, a handful of bandits—torchlight flickering. Hooves thundered, and three riders burst from the trees—knights in Leon's gold, swords gleaming. Kain roared, charging—reckless, fierce.

"Rivel!" one barked, slashing. Kain swung an axe—clumsy, hard—clashing with the blade. The jolt rattled him, but he shoved, coughing.

"Try me!" he rasped, swinging the second axe. It missed, thunking into a tree, and the knight laughed—until Kain lunged, adrenaline surging. His arm burned, his vision sharpened—something snapped awake. The first axe swung again, faster, cracking the knight's helm. The man crumpled, stunned.

Kain froze, coughing, staring at the axe—still in his grip, steady. "What the—?"

Mya's blade flashed, felling another knight. "Kain!" she shouted, her eyes wide—pride, shock. "That was—"

"Luck!" he barked, but his arm tingled—stronger, just for a flash. The third knight charged, and Kain ducked, swinging—wild, fierce. The axe hit armor, denting it, and the rider veered, cursing.

"Not luck," Mya said, grabbing the reins, yanking the knight down. Her sword finished him, and she turned to Kain, breathless. "You."

"Me?" He coughed, glaring—axes heavy again, the surge gone. "I don't know what that was!"

"Strength," she whispered, stepping close—too close. Her hand cupped his face, fierce. "Mine."

"Mine!" he snapped, shoving her off—but not far. His cough flared, but his eyes burned—something new, raw. "I'm not your toy!"

"No," she said, her smile softening. "My equal." She kissed him—hard, quick—and Kain growled, shoving back, but his lips lingered a beat.

"Warn me!" he rasped, wiping his mouth. "Crazy!"

"Crazy for you," she laughed, fierce and warm. "We're ready now."

"Ready?" He hefted the axes, coughing. "For what?"

"Leon," she said, her gaze piercing. "That's just the start."

Kain glared, the tingling fading—axes heavy, but his will sharper. "Start?" he muttered. "Fine—I'll end it."

The bandits cheered, dragging the bodies. Kain turned west, coughing, Mya beside him—not crowding, just there. Something stirred—strength, hers, his—and he braced, axes glinting, for what came next.