Love, he realized, wasn’t about pressing forward—it was about holding fast.
So he held her hand and said nothing. He let the moment stretch wide and quiet, and folded himself into it, anchoring there like a prayer with no expectation of return.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders. She nestled in closer.
Across the lake, the sky flared gold and coral over the glassy water. The air held its breath.
And for a little while, neither of them moved.
By the time Collin returned to his cottage in the lush meadow, the sun had long since taken his leave. The moon now ruled the sky, accompanied by her quiet constellation of stars—casting everything below in a pale, unwavering light.
Aries sat beneath the old oak, methodically sharpening a collection of blades, the sound of steel against stone crisp in the warm evening air. The cottage door stood ajar, held open by a rake, spilling amber candlelight into the yard like a welcome that never needed words.
Collin crossed the grass without speaking. He sat beside his friend, reached into the bucket for a spare whetstone, and chose a blade of his own. He dried it, braced the stone, and began to work—falling quickly into Aries’s rhythm. Strike after strike. Two minds, one motion, years of quiet understanding.
“Did Dragonfly meet you at the lake?”
Collin gave a wry grin. “She did. Fifth day’s the charm.”
Aries chuckled softly. He inspected the knife in his hand, then swapped it for another. “Told you she would. You just needed patience.”
Patience. Yes.
“So... did you two sort things out?”
Collin shrugged. “Not exactly. I decided not to pursue her. Not now.”
Aries didn’t reply immediately—just nodded, faintly surprised.
Collin didn’t elaborate—not about Bluejay, not about the worry in Dragonfly’s eyes. Aries would hear the gossip soon enough. “If I chased her now,” he said instead, “it would be for the wrong reasons. And she might say yes for the wrong reasons. We’d be using each other to fill in the cracks.” He paused, then glanced at Aries. “But when we’re both whole again... I’ll try. I’ll try like hell.”
Aries met his eyes, a look born from years of trust and conflict, of rivalry and camaraderie. “If Hadria were here, she’d call that very sensible. Speaking of—she made us dinner. It’s warming inside.”
Collin nodded, though he didn’t move. Hunger was a memory more than a sensation these days.
They worked in silence, the sharpening strokes falling into harmony with the music of crickets and starlight. The pile of knives slowly dwindled, but neither seemed in a hurry.
Eventually, Aries rose and headed inside. Collin remained, taking up the last blade.
He dragged it along the whetstone, listening to the hiss of metal meeting grit. The moon’s white glow gleamed across the steel’s surface—a glint too bright, too pure.
It reminded him of the light in his dreams. The burning flash that consumed everything.
But now, staring into the blade beneath the moonlight, it wasn’t fear filling his heart.
It was fire.
