The forge halls had been transformed. Colourful lanterns swung from thick iron chains, casting warm light across the carved stone walls. Music echoed off every surface—a wild mix of drums, flutes, and something like a fiddle made from bone and wire. Laughter rolled from one end of the chamber to the other, louder than she’d expected.
Astrid hovered just inside the archway, tense. The noise, the bodies, the flicker of rune-lights and the subtle buzz of background magic—it was too much all at once.
Kurai stood beside her, arms crossed, expression unreadable as ever. She didn’t move.
Her chest tightened. Too many people. Too much attention. It felt like a slow-motion panic attack waiting to happen.
No. I’m going to have fun. It’s going to be okay.
She turned. “Kurai—give me your cloak.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I just want to feel normal,” she said, tugging off her own. “If I’m not dressed like me, maybe no one will look twice. We won’t be hassled.”
Kurai arched a brow. “My cloak has a ‘leave me alone’ factor?”
Astrid grinned faintly. “It’s got brooding bastard written all over it. Perfect disguise. Come on. Pretend you don’t hate everything.”
He didn’t move.
“No way,” he muttered, clutching his cloak tighter. “Use something else.”
“Oh, come on. Please?”
“I said no!” His voice sharpened—just a little. Defensive. His hands fisted the fabric like a child clinging to a security blanket.
Astrid narrowed her eyes. “What, you body-conscious or something?”
Kurai looked away. “I have… something. It makes me stand out, alright? Can you just drop it?”
The embarrassment in his voice caught her off guard. Her teasing cooled instantly.
“Okay, sorry,” she said, softer now. “How about we trade? You wear mine. I’ll wear yours. Fair deal.”
He hesitated.
Then finally: “Fine. Just… don’t look.”
Astrid turned her back, holding her cloak out behind her.
She heard the rustle of fabric, the faintest hiss of breath, the shifting of weight like he was struggling with something. Not just the cloak. Like he was adjusting or hiding something beneath it.
What are you hiding, Kurai?
He didn’t say. She didn’t ask.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
After a long pause, he tossed his cloak over her shoulder.
She pulled it close, surprised by how much it smelled like firewood and something sharp—like him. It felt heavier than it looked.
Now wearing her cloak, Astrid had a clearer view of him. Kurai’s shirt was dark and fitted, sleeves rolled to just below the elbow, the collar loose in a V that gave him a rugged, careless look. A double-layered leather belt wrapped his waist, angled and practical—made for carrying, climbing, or surviving.
His pants were slim, tucked into heavy, scuffed boots that looked built for fleeing or fighting. Fingerless gloves covered his forearms, worn and well-used.
He looked good. Too good. Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away.
---
They drifted through the crowd, past stalls stacked with enchanted trinkets, glowing stones, and sweets that fizzed and smoked when bitten. Children darted between legs, faces sticky with honey. A dwarven smith juggled molten orbs of metal to a roaring crowd, his beard singed at the ends.
Astrid lingered at every stand—touching things, asking questions, smiling like it was all new again. She bumped his arm every time he sighed.
“You always look like someone just stepped on your mood,” she said, eyes glittering.
“And you always act like I’m a stray cat you can’t shake,” he muttered, but he didn’t pull away.
At one table, she stopped in front of a display of necklaces and bracelets made from rune-etched stone. Some pulsed faintly. Others shimmered like cooling embers.
“Hey, you want anything?” she asked.
“I’m a guy. I don’t want jewellery,” he said, deadpan.
She bumped his arm again. “Fine, I’ll pick one out for you then.”
He side-eyed her. His mouth twitched—almost a smile. Almost.
She scanned the trays, fingers ghosting over polished stones until one caught her eye. It shimmered like firelight—gold and red and something deeper underneath. Like forge flame. Like his flame.
“This one,” she said, holding it up. “This one reminds me of you.”
He scoffed. “I’m not wearing that.”
“Then I’ll get it for me. It’s pretty.”
She hesitated. Then thought of Charlie—she’d love something from here. A small token. A story to bring home.
Astrid reached for her pocket. Then paused.
Right. She didn’t have any money.
Her hand dropped. “Actually… never mind.” She set the stone down carefully and turned away.
Kurai watched her a beat longer than necessary.
Then quietly: “I’ll get it.”
Astrid blinked. “What?”
He didn’t answer. Just handed a few coins to the vendor and took the necklace. He held it out to her, eyes flicking away.
“If you want something, just ask,” he muttered. “It’s not a big deal.”
She took it slowly. Her fingers brushed his.
“Thanks,” she said, the word softer than usual. “But I still think it suits you.”
Kurai rolled his eyes. “Let it go, Astrid.”
But he didn’t walk away. He stayed by her side as they left the store, she slipped the necklace over her head, tucking it beneath her shirt like a secret. Something just for her. Something to hold onto.
They passed a family—two parents and a child, all laughing over something glowing in their hands. Astrid paused.
Her smile slipped. Just for a second.
"When I get home... I’ll take Charlie somewhere like this," she said. Her voice was softer now. "She’d love it."
Kurai looked at her. Said nothing. But his jaw clenched.
“Then let’s find something for her,” he said, still not looking at her. His voice was quieter now. Like a promise he didn’t know how to say out loud.
She smiled.
Kurai didn’t. But his expression softened—just a little.
They found a small stall tucked between booths—its trays lined with bracelets made from shifting rainbow metal, glowing softly like oil on water. Astrid picked one up, her breath catching. Perfect. Something Charlie would never find at home.
Unique. Bright. Beautiful. Just like her.
---
They continued through the stalls, Astrid pointed at a row of stones that pulsed faintly.
“Okay, what’s with those? They look like fantasy Fitbit rocks.”
Kurai stepped closer, leaning in next to her to take a closer look, his voice in her ear "Those are Embergems. They react to proximity and heat. Mostly used in forging or...
tracking."
She blinked, shuffling half a step away. “That’s kind of cool. Creepy. But cool.”
Too close. Her skin still tingled where his breath had brushed her ear.
More questions followed.
“What does this do?”
“That’s a luck charm. It doesn’t work.”
“This one?”
“Fake. Don’t pay more than two coins.”
“What about this?”
“That would explode. Don’t touch it.”
“Seriously?!”
“I said don’t touch it.”
She laughed. “You’re like a sarcastic tour guide.”
“Better than a dead one.” His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.
She listened. And he talked. Not much, but enough. His voice lost some of its edge. Her curiosity softened the space between them.
For once, the silence wasn’t heavy.
It was shared. It was fun.
This is nice.
---
They stopped at a food stall and tried something strange and spicy—some kind of fried root soaked in glowing sauce.
Astrid coughed violently, face turning red. "Why is it fizzing?!"
Kurai startled—then laughed. A real laugh. Short. Surprised. Unfiltered.
Astrid wiped her mouth, gasping. "You laughed. Mark it down. Historic moment."
He looked at her, half-smiling. "Maybe you’re just a bad influence."
She nudged his elbow. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Later, they stood at the edge of a railing overlooking the lava rivers below. The air shimmered with heat. Music played behind them—lively, distant. A different world, for a moment.
Astrid leaned on her arms; gaze unfocused.
"Thank you," she said.
Kurai didn’t look at her. "For what?"
"For not running. Not tonight."
A long pause.
He didn’t reply. But he stayed, shoulders brushing hers in the heat and the quiet. And for the first time in days… she didn’t feel so alone.
And that was enough.
