Whispers Between Us

The cottage was still, wrapped in the hush of evening. Outside, a soft drizzle whispered against the windows, casting long, silver streaks across the glass. The hearth glowed low, warm embers crackling faintly. Lumen lay curled beside it, his stardust fur dimming and pulsing gently like a resting star.

Cira sat cross-legged on the rug, her sketchbook resting on her knees. The page before her was nearly filled—lines soft and thoughtful, capturing the ancient silver tree from the grove. Her brow was furrowed, lips parted slightly as her pencil danced across the paper, almost like she was trying to draw the feeling of it, not just the shape.

Elian sat nearby, resting against the wooden frame of the couch, one knee bent and an arm draped over it. His gaze wasn't on the fire or the rain.

It was on her.

The way the light caught in her hair, the subtle crease between her brows when she was lost in thought, the gentleness in her hands despite the day's heaviness—it all held his attention like a spell.

"You're quiet," Cira said without looking up. "Too quiet. That's dangerous."

Elian blinked. "Dangerous?"

She tilted her head slightly, still sketching. "You start thinking too much when you go quiet like that."

Elian's lips twitched into something very close to a smirk. "You noticed."

"I always notice," she replied, mock-stern. "Especially when you stare holes through my back. "

He leaned forward slightly, voice low. "You weren't supposed to catch that."

Cira rolled her eyes but smiled, then set her pencil down and held up the page. "It's not exact, but… this was the tree, wasn't it?"

Elian studied the sketch. The tree's silver bark seemed to shimmer even in charcoal, the spiral-crescent symbol almost pulsing from the page.

"It's close," he murmured. "You even got the curve of the roots right."

Cira leaned back on her hands, sighing. "It felt like it was watching us. Like it knew."

"It did," he said simply. "The Guide wasn't lying. That place remembered more than we did."

Cira nodded slowly. "But that puzzle at the second seal…" Her voice dropped. "The voices, the markings—none of it made sense."

"Maybe we missed something," Elian said. "Or maybe it's meant to unfold piece by piece."

She glanced at him. "Like the rest of your memory?"

He didn't answer immediately. The fire crackled softly between them. Then, he shifted closer, resting his elbow on the rug.

"Why do you keep drawing everything?" he asked instead. "The tree. The markings. Me."

Cira raised an eyebrow. "You noticed that too?"

"I notice a lot of things," he said, gaze lingering. "Especially when someone pretends they're not tired."

"I am not tired," she shot back, crossing her arms with a little huff. "Unlike you, I didn't almost get strangled by a cursed memory today."

"You collapsed onto me," he said flatly.

"It was more of a dramatic swoon."

Elian gave her a long look. "You were unconscious."

"A dignified unconscious."

He exhaled a soft laugh, eyes brightening. "You're impossible."

"And you're an idiot," she said, but her tone was light.

A beat passed.

Then Elian's voice softened. "Still… today was heavy. You shouldn't be pushing yourself."

Cira's eyes lowered slightly, a faint color touching her cheeks. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to be," he said. "Not with me."

That silenced her for a moment. She stared into the fire, her hands clasped in her lap. The shadows flickered across her face—strong and soft at once.

"…If I stop moving," she whispered, "I'll start thinking. And if I think too hard, I'll remember what I saw in your memory."

Elian's gaze lowered. "Then I guess I'll keep talking. Just to make sure you don't think too much."

She looked at him, surprised.

"…That might actually be the kindest thing you've ever said."

He shrugged. "I can be kind. Occasionally."

She grinned, just a little. Then leaned her head gently against the couch beside him.

"I'm not going to sleep," she mumbled.

"Of course not," he said dryly, tugging a blanket over her shoulders.

A silence settled again, but this one was softer. Familiar.

Elian looked toward the window, his thoughts distant—but not alone. The girl beside him breathed slowly, the sketchbook slipping from her hands.

Lumen stirred by the fire, his ears twitching.

Far beyond the walls of the cottage, deep in the trees where secrets slept, something shifted.

The next seal was waiting.

And it had begun to stir.

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