Protection. Instinct.
She notices. Rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment. Her hand finds mine—small fingers slipping through larger ones. The contact shouldn’t seem significant.
It does.
Her palm is warm against mine. Soft. I’m hyperaware of every point where our skin touches, the way her thumb brushes the side of my hand. Casual. Easy. A simple familiarity that feels… natural. Like we’ve done this a thousand times.
My body remembers holding hands.
The realization comes sudden and unwelcome. Muscle memory without context. I’ve walked beside someone before, fingers linked just like this.
But not her.
Not Mara’s hand, though hers fits perfectly against mine.
Something inside me says I should want to pull away.
I don’t.
After perhaps thirty minutes, we reach a cliff face. A dark opening yawns in the stone—natural cave entrance, partially hidden by scrub and fallen rock.
“Here,” Andrei says. “The old place. Sacred to our people.”
Nicolae produces a torch from his pack—wood and pitch—strikes flint and lights it.
We enter.
The cave is larger than it appears from outside. The ceiling soars overhead, lost in shadow. Our footsteps echo off stone walls as we descend deeper.
Then Nicolae raises the torch higher, and I see them.
Paintings.
Covering every surface within reach. Faded with age but still visible—ochre and charcoal and what might be crushed minerals, showing scenes that make my breath catch.
Creatures in flight. Massive, winged, breathing flame.
“The old gods,” Nicolae says reverently. “Who ruled these mountains before men.”
I step closer, drawn by something instinctive. The paintings are crude by modern standards—simple lines and shapes—but something about them feels right.
One image dominates the far wall: a creature mid-flight, wings spread wide, fire erupting from its mouth toward enemies below. Powerful. Majestic. Terrifying.
I reach out, fingertips brushing the ancient paint.
Heat surges beneath my skin—sharp and immediate. The stone warms under my touch. Not gradual. Instant.
“K?” Mara’s voice seems distant. “You okay?”
I pull my hand back. The stone cools immediately, like I imagined the whole thing.
Except I didn’t.
“Yes. Just—” I struggle for words. “These images. They feel familiar.”
“Old?” Andrei supplies.
“Known,” I correct.
