What We Carry

The sun had risen just enough to paint the sand in amber.

The last of the fire from the night before had long since faded into warm ash.

They sat quietly in the stillness after her dream —

after she told him everything.

About the spirit.

The gem.

The permanence of what she had become.

Talo hadn't said much, just listened with his usual intensity —

nodding slowly, absorbing it all like kindling soaking in heat.

Now, the silence between them wasn't heavy.

It was thoughtful.

Rasha looked at him, head tilted slightly.

"Hey… something's been on my mind," she said.

"Last night, before we slept… you used flint to start the fire."

He nodded once, like yes, and?

She kept her voice gentle, curious.

"You knew I could've done it. So… why didn't you ask me?

Is it that you don't like using magic, or… is there something else?"

Talo's brow furrowed.

He glanced down at his hands, still dusted from morning prep.

"I don't use magic," he said. "I never really have."

"They tested you?" she asked.

"Yeah. When I was a kid. Twice.

Nothing happened.

The second time, they looked at me like I'd wasted their time."

He picked up a small stone and flicked it into the dust.

"Since then, I just use what I've got. Flint. Hands. Rope. It's enough."

She nodded, thoughtful —

but something lingered behind her expression,

like she was sensing something he hadn't noticed yet.

"You believe in magic, though," she said.

"Even if you don't have it."

He looked up, meeting her gaze.

"I believe in you. That's enough for me."

The silence stretched again —

not awkward, just alive.

Talo had gone quiet, not withdrawn, just… listening.

Rasha studied him.

And a thought stirred.

It wasn't loud.

It wasn't even fully hers.

But it sat there — warm behind her ribs —

like a truth surfacing before it had words.

She let it rise.

"So I have a question," she said quietly. "I don't know if my magic's gotten stronger since the spirit and I merged.

Maybe, but growing up… I barely had any at all.

Just enough to be noticed.

Not enough to matter."

Talo's brow raised slightly.

She smiled — soft, unsure, sincere.

"What if we traded off?"

"You teach me how to survive without magic…

And I'll make sure you have magic."

Talo blinked.

And Rasha —

Rasha felt her own surprise arrive a breath too late.

The words had left her mouth as if they'd always lived there.

Not rehearsed. Not planned.

Just true.

The warmth inside her stirred —

not blazing, not commanding, just…

approving.

Talo didn't answer right away.

His eyes narrowed, not with suspicion —

but with something closer to wonder.

"You'd do that?"

"I just did," she said.

And in that moment, something shifted between them.

Not a vow. Not a ritual.

But a bond.

Quiet.

Permanent.

And then —

as the air stilled —

something moved inside her.

Not her body.

Her being.

A memory stirred.

Not recent.

Not fully hers.

But real.

She saw herself reaching —

not with her hand,

but with something deeper.

Her soul.

And she touched Talo's essence.

And in that touch… she left something behind.

A flicker.

A spark.

Small. Quiet.

Not enough to change the world.

But enough to warm the edge of it.

She knew then —

It wasn't a gift.

Not even a choice.

It was instinct.

An echo of something older acting through her —

leaving a spark not out of pity…

but recognition.

Not much.

But not nothing.

And with it came a question.

Half hers, half not:

If that flame grows… will it become its own spirit?

Or will it become him?

She didn't know.

Only time would tell.

Rasha inhaled slowly, anchoring herself.

The warmth within her — the Spirit — pulsed, calm but distinct.

Two thoughts.

Two minds.

Moving beside each other.

We're not fully one yet, she realized.

We live together. But we think apart.

She wondered if they'd ever fully align.

One will.

One voice.

Maybe.

Maybe in time.

And she smiled.

Because for the first time —

she wasn't afraid of that question.

Talo had been watching her the whole time.

Eyes narrowed — not judging, just reading.

He didn't interrupt silence.

He listened to it.

So when her expression changed —

when something passed behind her eyes like light through colored glass —

he noticed.

And somehow… he understood.

He didn't know what she'd seen.

Didn't know a piece of her now lived in him.

But he felt it.

Something new in his chest.

Not fire.

Not power.

Not yet.

Just… truth.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low.

Rasha nodded. "I think… I just gave you something."

He blinked. "Like… what?"

She hesitated.

Then placed a hand over her heart.

"A piece of me."

He didn't joke.

Didn't flinch.

He just looked at his chest…

then back at her.

"Feels warm."

"That's because it is."

Talo leaned back on his hands, staring at the open sky.

"Well," he said, "I guess that makes us partners for real now."

Rasha laughed.

Not forced. Not nervous.

Real.

A soft ember of joy flickered in her chest.

It didn't last long.

It didn't have to.

She just… looked at him.

At the way he tilted his head back,

completely at ease,

as if nothing had changed.

As if he hadn't changed.

Like the two of them hadn't just rewritten something sacred

with nothing but a moment

and a flame with a will of its own.

He didn't ask for proof.

Didn't need answers.

He just… held it.

And that unsettled her —

not in fear.

But in awe.

Because what do you do with someone who carries your fire…

and doesn't flinch?

The Spirit inside her stirred.

But for once… said nothing.

Rasha's gaze lingered on the curve of his shoulders,

the calm stretch of his body against the sand.

The way he didn't even realize the weight he had accepted.

And she thought—

I don't think I've ever laughed like this before.

Not in the Fire Tribe.

Not when they gave her the Ember Sigil.

Not even after her awakening.

Even when power thrummed in her bones —

even when the stars had looked down and recognized her —

She hadn't laughed.

But now…

with soot on her fingers

and a boy beside her who didn't burn

but glowed?

Maybe this —

this —

was the first real warmth she had ever known

that asked nothing in return.

She let herself feel it.

And then —

I'm going to live forever.

The thought dropped like a pebble in her chest.

Not heavy. Not light.

Just true.

And then another followed.

What about him?

She looked at Talo —

still fussing with his breakfast,

still mumbling about flat rocks and burnt edges.

Will he get to stay with me?

She didn't ask.

Didn't dare.

Not because she feared the answer.

But because she didn't know how to ask.

How do you ask someone if they're meant to outlive time with you?

So she didn't.

If the spark in him grows... maybe it'll keep him here.

She didn't know.

And this time —

she didn't chase knowing.

If the Spirit wanted her to learn, it would show her.

It knew her now —

perhaps better than she knew herself.

So she just…

sat beside him.

Quietly.

Letting the question live

beside the flicker she had left in him.

Not everything needed to burn right away.

Some things were meant to simmer.