The Rune Beneath Her Voice

Dinner was quiet.

Peaceful in that post-magic, post-orgasm, post-identity-collapse kind of way.

They sat close, not speaking much, bodies humming with the remnants of divinity. Malvor had cooked—something simple for once. A charred vegetable medley and enchanted rice that glowed faintly blue. Annie hadn't asked about the color.

She was too tired to care.

He poured them each a glass of something dark and rich. Red like temptation. Heavy like aftermath.

He leaned back with the kind of smirk that only surfaced when Annie was near and chaos wasn't required to keep her.

She sipped. Set her glass down. Then cleared her throat.

Malvor blinked. Sat up straighter.

"You—"

"I can talk again," she said softly.

He dropped his fork.

"Stars above, I was starting to think I'd have to learn interpretive dance just to flirt with you again."

She gave him a look. That look. The one that said: Don't test me or I'll activate every rune and reduce you to divine glitter.

He grinned and toasted her with his glass.

The silence that followed wasn't cold anymore. Just warm. Weighted. Waiting.

Then she spoke again. "Eight of them are active."

He nodded, the levity draining from his face.

"Aerion. Navir. Ravina. Leyla. Calavera. Vitaria. Maximus. Mine."

At his, she glanced up.

He met her gaze, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. "Yours too."

They sat there. Quiet. Letting it settle.

Letting the truth fold between them like another napkin at the table.

"You're close to immortality," he murmured.

Annie didn't answer.

She didn't need to.

He leaned back again.

"So… who's next?"

Silence.

Then, at the same time:

"Yara."

They paused. Eyebrows raised. Matching smirks. Shared history.

Malvor leaned in, candlelight catching in his grin. "Oh, this is perfect. She's easy. Always flirting with both of us. We wouldn't even have to try."

"She'd probably bid for the privilege."

"She'd pay me to let you seduce her."

"I wouldn't even have to lie."

"Neither would I."

They locked eyes.

The plan didn't need words. It never did.

Malvor tapped the table, satisfied.

"This is a brilliant idea."

Annie raised her glass again. "You say that about all your terrible ideas."

They'd done this before—with Maximus and Vitaria. No bruises. Just magic. Just wine. Just another job.

So why did this one already feel like drowning?

Malvor grinned wider. "Exactly. And look how fun my life is."

They toasted.

To strategy. To seduction. To getting one rune closer to the end.

And maybe, silently, to burning the world if anyone touched her wrong again.

Then—

Annie set her glass down, slower this time. "When should we do it?"

Malvor didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Tomorrow."

He paused. A beat too long.

Like he was toeing the edge of something real and sharp.

"Do you want me to… check in after?"

Annie didn't blink.

"Don't be weird about it."

Her voice was steady. Too steady. The kind of steady you earned after surviving too much.

He swallowed the rest. Whatever it was.

"We dress nice," he said instead, too brightly. "She likes pretty."

"You're always pretty."

She looked at him. Joke half-loaded behind her teeth. Then:

"So are you. Unfortunately."

They clinked glasses. Too loud. Too final.

That was it. No plan. No boundaries. Just—

Let's seduce a goddess.

Just two broken people pretending they didn't bleed.

Yara.

Beautiful. Dangerous. Could drown continents. Could kiss like freedom. Had already invited them both, more than once.

Malvor: "Are you okay with this?"

Annie (too cool):"Do you need me to be?"

Malvor stood. Collected the dishes with a flick of his fingers. "I'll bring the wine."

She didn't respond.

She was already walking away.

Because if she looked back—she might say something too close to real.

She told herself it was fine.

She'd done worse. With less.

This was strategy. Just another rune. Just another job.

That's what she'd tell herself tomorrow.

When they walked into the ocean like fools.

Hand in hand.

Not asking what they were doing. Because asking meant admitting the danger.

And neither of them wanted the truth.

Not tonight.

The morning passed like a truce.

Coffee was brewed. Clothes were changed.

No kisses. No questions.

The silence wasn't hostile. It was deliberate. Like two people circling a sleeping beast they'd summoned but didn't know how to banish.

By noon, they'd rehearsed the lie so well it almost felt like truth.

Annie leaned against the dresser, arms crossed.

"We need the rune," she said. Just that.

Malvor, sprawled sideways across the armchair like sin incarnate, twirled a crystal lazily between his fingers.

He didn't look up. Not right away.

"And you want to seduce her?"

"She likes you." A pause. Then, carefully rehearsed: "She likes me. She'll like us."

Smooth. Even. Like silk hiding splinters.

He looked at her longer than he should've.

Something in her tone...

He didn't name it.

Didn't ask.

Didn't look.

"Usually," he said, tilting his head, "you have to try to seduce someone. You can't just schedule it like a doctor's appointment."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Watch me."

The candle flickered. Arbor rustled behind the walls.

Malvor's smirk faltered.

"Are you okay with this?"

She didn't blink.

"Do you want the rune or not?"

That should've been it. The line in the sand. The invitation to check.

But he didn't.

He was already on his feet. Already summoning glamour, wrapping them both in ocean-kissed clothing and god-tier seduction.

"Annie, my radiant reef fish," he declared, flourishing like the fool he was, "let's go raise some tides."

She followed.

Composed.

Calm.

Beautiful.

But the cracks were already forming.

Malvor told himself she was fine. She always said what she meant.

She didn't lie. Not to him.

Right?