The chamber was hushed, save for the faint crackle of the fluxhearth. Its glow pulsed, the phiros stones dimming, nearing depletion. The scent of lavender still lingered in the air, clinging to the wet fabric draped over a nearby chair—proof of tenderness shared and discomfort subdued.
Auryn slept deeply now, nestled in a mound of pillows, blankets, and furs. Her breath, once erratic, now came in soft waves. Steady. Fragile. The worst of the heat had subsided, but the ghost of it still colored her skin; a lingering ember not yet extinguished.
Kailorien moved quietly, barefoot across the crystal floor. He gathered two fresh phiros stones from a carved basin near the hearth. Their glow responded to his touch, flickering in recognition, not yet awake.
He crouched to replace the old ones, turning them with practiced ease.
A whisper of motion behind him drew his attention.
He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Lu’ma’s presence was like smoke—silent, weightless, unobtrusive. She stood just inside the chamber’s arch, a tray of steeped tea in her hands. Her eyes were downcast, head bowed. As always, she avoided looking at him directly.
Once she set down the tray, her hands moved in swift signs, ‘This Nameless asks. Is Her Radiance stable?’
Her fingers hesitated at the end.
Kailorien’s gaze drifted back to the bed, to the way Auryn’s hand remained tucked beneath her cheek.
“I will make her well again,” he promised, voice low.
Lu’ma nodded—just once. Then signed again, slower.
‘Her Radiance’s breath…it flickered like a dying stone. This Nameless feared she would not return. This,'she made a sign Kailorien couldn’t identify,‘was worse than before.’
“What did you sign just now? What was that?” He tried to imitate the gesture.
Lu’ma signed it again. Her right hand was flat against her chest, hovering just over her heart, then her fingers burst open upward like a sudden bloom of flame.
“I’ve never seen that before.”
Lu’ma nodded.
‘This Nameless and Her Radiance created it. To talk about,’she gestured towards Auryn’s form and made the sign for sickness. ‘Without the others knowing. Her Radiance did not wish for the Companions to witness it.’
“Sign it again. So I remember.”
She did so.
“If I had to give it a name, I would not call it a fever. This isn’t illness. It’s something else. For now, know that when I tell you she is suffering a Flare, I mean this strange heat.”
Lu’ma bowed.
He stood.
“You saw it,” he murmured. “What I did.”
She hesitated.
Kailorien’s voice softened. “When I breathed for her.”
Lu’ma’s shoulders tensed. Her hands pressed together, fingers lacing then lifting.
‘This Nameless will carry that secret beyond the Void, if needed.’
His chest loosened with the weight of her vow. One not spoken aloud, yet no less binding than any oath forged in blood.
“I never meant for anyone to see,” he admitted. “But you were there. And you are the only one I trust to understand the weight of it.”
Lu’ma’s hands moved again. Slower. Thoughtful.
