Chapter 17 : A Lasting Scar

The wind was dry, warm with the scent of ash and broken stone.

They walked in silence for a long while, the ruins of the vessel's lair crumbling behind them, distant already. No one said much—there were too many questions, and too much fear about what the answers might be. The sun was low when they finally found the trail again, a dirt road carved between dying trees and scorched fields. Esantea bore its scars plainly.

Lucian walked ahead, blade strapped to his back, shoulders tense beneath his cloak. Moira kept pace just behind him, unnaturally silent, her hands folded in her sleeves. Kitana stayed at the rear, watching them both. Watching their backs. There was something about the quiet that made every word louder when it came.

"So," Moira finally said, voice soft but clear, "how did the two of you meet?"

Lucian didn't hesitate. "The lair of the demon who killed my sister."

Kitana's breath caught. Lucian slowed a step, glanced back at her. "I was looking for vengeance. Found a woman already halfway out of this world—bloodied, broken, kneeling. She had a blade near her throat. I thought I was almost too late."

He didn't say her name. He didn't have to. Kitana felt the memory stir like smoke in her lungs. She didn't meet his gaze.

Lucian kept walking. "She didn't ask for saving. She almost didn't take it when I offered."

Then he turned, green eyes glinting faintly. "Now that I'm thinking about it… you never said how you ended up there."

Moira looked back, curious. Kitana slowed. The road felt colder underfoot. Her mind turned through the years like grinding gears—years of fire, of screams, of silence in a dark cell. Of watching time eat itself.

She could tell them the truth. That she'd once been a woman known by a title, a name whispered in demon-hunter halls. That she'd been taken, caged, fed pieces of herself until there was nothing left but rage and shadow.

But…She looked up, eyes unreadable. "I went there to kill him," she said. Her voice didn't tremble. "But I wasn't strong enough. I failed. I tried to escape and walked straight into a trap. He… did something. I don't know what exactly. But I felt a piece of his power get burned into me." She didn't lie—but she didn't bleed the full truth either.

Moira studied her for a long moment. Then quietly: "What happened to your eye?"

Kitana's lips parted—but she frowned. "How do you even know what my eye looks like?"

Moira tilted her head. "Not having eyes doesn't mean not having sight," she said simply, then added no more.

Kitana hesitated. The question lingered like smoke. She looked away, toward the treeline. "Last scar," she said. "Before I runned."

Moira didn't press.

The road wound onward. Lucian said nothing for a time. He didn't look back. Kitana wondered if he already knew she was lying—or if he just accepted that everyone carried things they weren't ready to speak aloud.

Night fell in folds of violet and gray.

They found a clearing just off the road, ringed by gnarled trees and whispering grass. Lucian set up a small fire, careful and practiced, while Kitana and Moira gathered stones to circle it. No one suggested keeping watch—none of them were strangers to danger. But exhaustion made cowards even the strong. They needed rest.

The fire crackled softly, its light casting strange shadows on their faces. They sat around it, the silence stretching again, less sharp now, more contemplative.

Moira broke yet again.

"You seem to look at the world as if it's something new," she said, her voice low and even. "Why?"

Kitana stared into the flames. The truth coiled at the back of her throat, thick and rusted. She could tell her—say that centuries had passed while she rotted in a prison carved from sorrow, and the world had rewritten itself in her absence.

But instead, she exhaled. "I only lived for vengeance," she said quietly. "When I wasn't fighting, I wasn't looking. I didn't care to notice the world changing. Now that I try to see it… everything feels new."

Moira nodded, as if she understood. Maybe she did.

Kitana shifted slightly, eyes glancing across the firelight. "The family I saw… in your memories," she asked, voice tentative. "What happened to them?"

Moira didn't answer at first. She sat still, hands clasped in her lap, face unreadable.

"When the power came to me," she began, "it changed me. My skin and eyes turned pale. I no longer looked like their daughter. I no longer felt like her."

Kitana's breath caught.

"They thought a demon had taken me," Moira continued, tone steady but hollow. "And left a monster in my place. But they couldn't kill me… not really. I had her voice. Her face. Her smile. Just twisted."

She looked down. "So they locked me in a room. No food. No water. Just silence. But even that didn't last. My voice… It drove them mad. Listening to their daughter beg for help when they were sure she was gone."

Kitana's eyes stung.

"Eventually, a noble came. Said I'd make a fine doll. Offer them enough coins to drown their guilt. They agreed. After that, I don't know. I never saw them again." Moira looked up at the stars. "I heard their village fell, like so many others. Demons don't care for bloodlines or regrets."

Kitana moved without thinking. She crossed the firelight and wrapped her arms around Moira.

It was awkward. Moira stiffened at first—like she didn't know what to do with comfort—but slowly, her hands lifted and rested lightly on Kitana's arms.

Neither of them said anything. There was nothing to say. The fire cracked again, a soft punctuation in the stillness.

Lucian watched from across the flames, quiet, unreadable.

And for the first time in days, maybe longer, the night did not feel entirely cold.

Moira didn't want to break the warmth still lingering between them—but some things couldn't be left unspoken. While Lucian stirred the embers of the fire a short distance away, she leaned in, her voice a near-whisper.

"Why do you trust him?" she asked. "Blindly, like that?"

Kitana didn't answer at first. She stared into the fire as if it held something only she could see.

"In the darkness I was in," she murmured, "he was the only light. The only voice that didn't try to break me."

Her fingers clenched around her cloak.

"Yes, I questioned him. Still do," she admitted. "How does a commoner know how to hold demon power like it's nothing? How does he walk with the weight of a coin that could feed a village? How does someone like him summon blue fire without flinching?"

She turned her head slightly, watching Lucian as he crouched by the flames "But when I looked into his eyes…" Her voice softened. "They didn't lie. I could feel something growing between us. Something I wasn't ready to name."

She exhaled. "And if I'm being honest… I have secrets too."

Moira slipped into sleep, leaving only the sound of fire crackling, wind brushing through ash-colored leaves, and the breathless hush of night.

Lucian came to Kitana without a word, settling beside her, his presence a heat all its own. The distance between them was thin as paper—waiting to be torn.

"She's right," he said, his voice low, rough like gravel. "You shouldn't trust anyone that easy."

Kitana looked at him, her jaw tight. "I don't," she said quietly. "Only you."

His eyes locked with hers. "Why? What makes… me different?"

She didn't answer. She didn't need to.

The air shifted.

Lucian's hand rose, slow and deliberate, fingers curling around her neck. Not tight—but firm. Possessive. She could feel his pulse against her skin. Or maybe it was hers. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a question he didn't voice.

She answered anyway.

The kiss started slow—smoke before fire. But it ignited fast. Kitana parted her lips and Lucian claimed her mouth, hot and hungry. His tongue found hers, the kiss deepening into something fierce and wild. She tasted steel, ash, something unfamiliar and addicting. He kissed like he wanted to drown in her—and she let him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he angled her head, deepening the kiss. His other hand slid around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest. Every inch of her body burned where he touched—like her skin remembered something her mind didn't.

Lucian's mouth didn't stop at her lips. He kissed the edge of her jaw, then down her neck, his teeth grazing skin, lips trailing heat and promise. Kitana arched toward him, breath caught between a gasp and a moan. Her hands slid beneath his cloak, gripping his back, pulling him tighter, needing more—needing something she couldn't name.

His hand moved along her ribs, slow but not unsure. He cupped her side, thumb brushing beneath her chest. Each touch sent heat rippling through her core, curling low in her belly like something waking. Kitana's head spun. Her heart thundered, but beneath it all—something else pulsed. Strange. Hungrier than it should have been. Something not quite hers clawed to the surface, desperate to feed on this heat, this contact, this closeness. Her skin felt too tight, her breath too shallow. Her body trembled—but not from fear.

It wasn't just him. It was something else. Lucian paused, lips brushing hers again—but this time slower, with something like restraint "That's enough," he murmured, voice thick with control. "For now."

Kitana blinked, dazed, lips tingling, body aching with unshed heat. He touched her cheek, his palm warm, his thumb trailing along her lower lip.

"I want you ready," he said, "fully mine. No hesitation."

Kitana didn't speak. She leaned forward, kissed him softly—just once. Then again. A promise or a curse, she wasn't sure.

"Goodnight," she whispered, finally pulling away. But even as she turned, laying back beneath the stars, the fire in her blood didn't cool.

Not for a long time.