My refusal to blink brings tears cascading down my face. A deep ache takes root in my chest, realizing I’ve been robbed of this. All this time, I’d thought the world to be a hazy palette of muted tones. In reality, the saturated vibrancy had simply been dormant, waiting to be awoken.
I set my sights directly on the source of it all—and flinch.
Warm, gloved fingers wipe away the wetness on my cheeks before gripping beneath my chin, twisting it to the side.
“First lesson about the sun: don’t look directly at it.”
Floating white spots glimmer across my vision, along with flashes of a green-tinted inverse image of the landscape. I blink, and the optical illusions fade enough for me to really see Kalden.
Streaks of gold shimmer along the veins of his face, framing his cheeks, trailing into his lustrous curls and down his neck. My hand lifts, fingertips longing to trace the sparkling patterns. But I halt when my eyes meet his.
Molten irises shine like twin suns. The effect amplifies his already intimidating, mesmerizing presence into something entirely otherworldly. My pulse trips over itself as I openly ogle his face, yet I can’t bring myself to turn away from this beaming, unrestrained version of him. His gaze is a scalding, tangible touch, burning through me directly to the core of my being, and I have never felt so laid bare while fully clothed.
His smile grows crooked. “You’re staring.”
There’s no use in denying it, so I shrug and share a sheepish smirk in return. “You . . . Your face is . . .”
The foundation of our beliefs rests on the irrefutable fact that the sun is the source of all our problems, that Sols are a result of directexposure to its vile, corrupting light. Caligo wouldn’t exist—wouldn’t be needed—if humans hadn’t been driven to seek shelter from the sun and its murderous abominations. Yet in this moment, I struggle to align those beliefs with what’s in front of me. There’s nothing vile about the radiant landscape. No corruption to be found in Kalden’s disarming eyes.
“Yours, too,” he says simply, brushing a thumb up across my jawline before releasing his grip.
My hands fly to my cheeks, as if I can feel the warm markings of my exposure. And I can, but not through my gloved fingers. Energy floods my veins, chasing away the lingering chill on my neck from my damp hair. A part of me acknowledges that the heady tingle racing beneath my skin should be a cause for concern, but it feels so damn good.Ifeel good. Powerful, even. Perhaps a little reckless, too, because I make no move to retreat to the shade, unwilling to part with the intoxicating sunrise.
“You’ve truly never seen it before, have you?” Kalden asks, what could be seconds or minutes later.
“Never.” I shake my head. “And you have?”
He nods, lips quirking up the smallest fraction.
“Is it always this bright?” I squint, immediately forgetting his advice to not look directly at it.
Kalden chuckles, and the sound of it is so unexpected, it draws my attention back to him.
For the first time since we met in the tunnel, he looks . . . lighter. The near-permanent crease between his stern brows has softened. His shoulders are rolled back. Even the shadows beneath his eyes seem to disappear.
He takes a long and slow inhale, like he’s savoring the charged morning air. “The sun shines brighter for those who’ve seen the night.”
“Huh,” I say, considering the poetic words that don’t align with what I know of this stoic, pedantic man. “I’m not sure whether to take that literally or metaphorically.”
“I’d say it’s more of an allegory,” Kalden corrects with a teasing smile, transforming his usually hard features into something dangerously alluring and quickening my already restless pulse. “The sun has a way of revealing things that the shadows would prefer to hide. Like you.”
He takes a step closer.
“What about me?” I ask, voice a mere whisper.
“You’ve seen more darkness than most. Its shadows clung to you, convinced you the only safety you’d find was within their grasp,” he observes, and I think of how certain I was that leaving the shelter of Caligo would lead to my imminent death. If I were relying on the shadows alone to get me through this, perhaps that would prove true. The only reason I stand a chance is thanks to the very thing I’ve been taught to fear, to hate.
I turn my face towards the gold-drenched landscape below, feeling neither of those emotions within me as Kalden continues, “Right now, the sunlight illuminates more than just your skin and vision. It exposes your character. Your adaptability. Your willingness to keep an open mind and be proven wrong.”
Trying not to squirm beneath the fervor of his attention, I lift my chin, stealing some of the sunlight’s brazenness.
“You know, I’m not the only one exposed here.” Kalden’s smile falls, but he allows me to go on. “I hear the way you talk about the sun. See the way you look at it. Like it’s your anchor. Like you’d sooner worship its light than stand in reverence to the shadows.”
He lifts a brow. “Does that frighten you?”
“It should. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound like a Sol, if Sols could actually talk.”
“But?”
