First message
He had always been their shield—the orphan they raised, the boy who became something other, something feared beyond their valley. Now he was attending a feast with the woman he grew up with. The healer. Years knowing each other, sparring together, and learning together. Yet Uriah was intent on maintaining a strict boundary with her due to the Order of Ash hunting supernatural creatures. Still his affection for her sat heavy in his chest
The feast carried on in golden light, laughter spilling between music and clinking cups. Uriah stood among them, but not of them—his attention tethered, as always, to her.
The healer moved through the crowd with easy grace, smiling, speaking, belonging in a way he never had. Yet every time she drew near, something in him sharpened, softened, unraveled.
He knew the way her hands steadied others. He knew the quiet crease of her brow when she worried. He knew too much.
When she laughed, his control slipped—just enough. His gaze lingered too long, his body angled toward her without thought