"The wards around the town reduce magical interference," Fenric looked up too. "Creates optimal conditions for astronomical observation."
"Or you could just say it's pretty," Zane teased.
"It is quite aesthetically pleasing," Fenric shrugged, his silver-blond hair gleaming in the firelight.
Milo pointed excitedly as a shooting star streaked across the sky. "Make a wish!"
"Does that actually work?" I watched him and smiled. "The wishing on stars thing?"
"Depends on the star," Zane stretched his long legs toward the fire. "Some falling stars are actually minor celestial entities returning home. They occasionally grant wishes if they're in a good mood."
"And if they're in a bad mood?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Then they turn your wish inside out," he grinned. "Be specific with cosmic entities."
"That's just superstition," Fenric scoffed. "Meteoric phenomena have no documented wish-granting capabilities."
"Says the man who works for a bureaucracy that regulates magic," I laughed.
"Documented magic," Fenric emphasized. "With proper filing and classification."
"I'm still making a wish," Milo closed his eyes dramatically. "And I'm not telling what it is, or it won't come true."
I watched him, affection warming my chest. Despite everything we'd been through, Milo maintained his essential optimism, his belief in wonder and possibility. It was one of the many things I treasured about him.
The conversation drifted comfortably, touching on lighter topics than prophecies and cultists. Zane told stories of strange beings he'd encountered in his centuries of demon hunting. Milo shared amusing anecdotes about his early necromancy mishaps. Even Fenric, loosened perhaps by the day of relaxation, offered a few dry observations about Bureau office politics that had us all laughing.
Only Rook remained mostly silent, though his usual tension had eased. He sat close enough that I could feel the heatradiating from his body, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine as he tended the fire.
As the night deepened, Milo eventually dozed off on his blanket, his curls falling across his face in a way that made him look even younger. Fenric excused himself to review some notes, his sense of duty never completely abandoned. Zane wandered down to the water's edge, claiming he wanted to see if the lake's magical properties were different at night.
That left Rook and me alone by the fire, its flames now burned down to glowing embers that cast a warm, intimate light.
"You've been quiet," I turned to face him.
He poked at the embers with a stick, sending sparks spiraling into the night. "Just watching. Listening."
"To what?"
"Everything." His amber eyes reflected the fire's glow. "The wind in the trees. The water on the shore. Your heartbeat."
"You can hear my heartbeat?" I hadn't realized his senses were quite that acute.
He nodded. "It's calmer here. Steadier. Less afraid."
"I didn't realize how tense I've been until today," I admitted, looking out over the dark lake. "Constantly waiting for the next attack, the next trial, the next weird thing to happen to my body." I gestured to the blue markings that were visible on my arms in the sleeveless top I wore.
"It takes a toll. Being constantly vigilant."
"Is that how you live all the time? Always on alert?"
Something vulnerable flickered across his face. "It's safer that way."
"Safer, maybe. But lonely."
He didn't deny it, just continued poking at the fire. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the crackling embers and the gentle lapping of water against the shore.
"Can I ask you something?" I finally broke the silence. "Something personal?"
