Page 48 of Heatbound Hearts

Bronwyn looks up at me, her green eyes wide. "What's wrong, Zyx?"

I scan our surroundings, hyper-aware of every shifting shadow. "The magical energies are peaking tonight. It can be... unpredictable."

A group of revelers stumbles past, their laughter too loud, movements too jerky. I tense, ready to whisk Bronwyn away at the slightest hint of danger.

"I need you to understand," I say, leaning close to her ear. "Tonight's not just a celebration. It's raw power made manifest. The veil between realms thins. Spirits walk among us. And not all of them are friendly."

Bronwyn's eyebrows knit together. "Is it really that dangerous?"

"It can be." I cup her face, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "I won't let anything happen to you. But you need to stay alert."

A chorus of chants rises from the main square, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I feel the magic surging, wild and untamed.

"Do you feel that?" I ask, watching Bronwyn's reaction closely.

She shivers, pressing closer to me. "Like a current in the ear."

I nod, wrapping both arms around her. "That's just the beginning."

The air crackles with anticipation as the ceremony for the Seven approaches. But finally, the four of us make it back to the inn to dress for the final night after spending the day partaking in the festivities.

Once we are in the room, I take a deep breath, centering myself before turning to face Bronwyn, Kairos, and Naia.

"The rituals we're about to witness are the heart of Nati," I begin, my voice low and reverent. "They are… a reaffirmation of the balance between the Seven gods who shape our world."

Kairos leans in, his silver eyes gleaming. "And we'll be able to see the gods themselves?"

I nod. "Tonight, they will walk among us. The gods love to see their people, their loyal followers. But it can make things more frenzied."

"How do we know which god is which?" Naia asks, looking at Kairos. "I'm guessing you haven't seen them before."

He just looks to me. "Watch the Concordium. As each god's power manifests, you'll see their symbol appear on one of the walls."

Naia's brow furrows. "What do the symbols look like?"

I describe each in turn – Axarus's crossed swords, Xydra's shattered mountain, Oltyx's tree of life, and the rest. The entire time I talk, I can feel the energy building in me. My body isresponding to Nati, and while I do worry for the humans I am taking, I am also excited for the night.

"The order matters," I continue. "It reflects the current balance of power among the gods. Whichever deity manifests first is considered ascendant for the coming year."

Bronwyn's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "That's incredible. Does it affect daily life in Nythorra?"

I nod, squeezing back. "In subtle ways. The ascendant god's realm might experience more favorable conditions, or their followers might find their prayers answered more readily."

As I speak, I notice Kairos's intense focus. His questions are pointed, probing the deeper implications of the ritual. I answer carefully, aware of the delicate balance between sharing knowledge and guarding sacred mysteries.

"Now, let's get dressed." I point to the wares we ventured out after. "Tonight is the only night with a dress code."

Kairos and Naia leave for their room while Bronwyn and I go to ours. Once inside, I quickly dress. Then, I carefully lift the delicate fabric of the traditional Nythorran robe, its deep midnight blue shimmering with subtle iridescence. Bronwyn stands before me, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"This is beautiful, Zyx," she breathes, running her fingers along the intricate silver embroidery.

"Not as beautiful as you," I murmur, unable to keep the reverence from my voice. I step closer, holding the robe open for her. "Arms out."

Bronwyn complies, and I slide the soft material over her shoulders. My hands linger, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric. Our eyes meet, and I feel that familiar jolt of electricity.

I move behind her, gathering her hair to one side. My fingers brush the nape of her neck as I fasten the delicate clasps along her spine. Each touch feels charged, intimate.

"These clasps," I explain, my voice low, "represent the seven realms of Nythorra." I trace the line of her back, naming each one. "Bellumoria, Ruinfall, Terramyst..."

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