Page 14 of Crowned

The trees begin to thin, their twisted forms giving way to more familiar shapes, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve crossed into a different world. The forest that’s been our home for so long now feels like an alien landscape, one that I can’t trust.

As we emerge into the open space of the grove, the sunlight breaks through the canopy above us, bathing the ground in a soft golden glow. It feels too bright, too perfect, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m still dreaming.

Vance leads me to a small stream that winds lazily through the grove. The sound of running water is gentle, a soft murmur that calms the nerves fraying at the edges of my mind. We sit on a moss-covered rock by the water, the coolness of it beneath me a sharp contrast to the warmth of Vance’s body next to mine.

The world around us seems to slow. The trees sway slightly in the breeze, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight, but it doesn’t feel as calming as it should. The forest feels alive still, watching us from the edge of the clearing, its secrets lurking just out of sight.

I watch the sunlight dance on the surface of the stream, the water catching the light in ripples, and for a moment, I can almost believe everything will be okay.

But the doubts remain.

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the sun’s warmth wash over me. The familiar sensation of heat on my skin is a reminder that I’m still here, still alive, and yet… I’m not sure I know who I am anymore. Not fully.

I’m alive, I think. But what does that even mean right now?

A chill runs down my spine despite the warmth of the sun, and I instinctively curl into Vance, seeking the comfort of his presence, his steady heartbeat.

For a brief moment, I let myself believe that everything is okay. That the worst is behind us, that the darkness of the forest and the time I can’t remember, are nothing more than distant shadows now.

But even as I rest there, with Vance’s arm around me, I can’t shake the feeling that something is still out there—something that’s waiting for us, just beyond the edge of this moment.

As we sit by the stream, the sound of the water flowing around us becomes a quiet hum, a gentle backdrop to the chaos still swirling in my mind. I lean back against the moss-covered rock, the warmth of the sun on my skin a comfort, yet it doesn’t quite reach the parts of me still shadowed by uncertainty.

Vance doesn’t speak, but I can feel his gaze on me—heavy, tender, and constant. I don’t need to look to know he’s watching, his presence surrounding me, yet it doesn’t feel suffocating. It’s a quiet kind of attention, one that tells me he’s waiting for me to break the silence, waiting for me to let go of whatever weight I’m holding inside.

Finally, I shift slightly, catching him looking at me. His eyes are soft, filled with something I can’t name, and I meet his gaze, a frown pulling at my brow as I ask, “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, the air between us thickens, charged with the unspoken. He looks at me for a long beat, his gaze searching, as if trying to memorise every detail of me, like he’s afraid I might vanish again if he doesn’t commit it all to memory. His expression softens then, and he steps closer, his voice low and raw when he speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, each word wrapped in a kind of reverence I haven’t heard before. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible, Malia. These days without you…they’ve been endless. I don’t care where we are, what’s happened, or where we go from here. All I want is to remember this—*you*—forever. I want to remember the way you look in the sunlight, the way your eyes change when you’re uncertain, the way you feel when you’re close to me.”

His words hit me like a wave I wasn’t prepared for, and I feel something shift deep inside. My heart skips, a strange flutter rising in my chest, as I try to process the weight of his confession. I open my mouth to reply, but no words come. I just look at him, trying to find a way to respond to something so beautifully raw.

Before I can speak, though, he’s leaning in, closing the space between us. His hand brushes gently against my cheek, a tentative touch that feels like a question, an invitation. His lips hover near mine, and the vulnerability in his gaze strikes me, like he’s afraid to push too hard, afraid of breaking something. But the longing there is undeniable, and in that moment, I realize there’s nothing left but us.

“Malia,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me. I?—”

His words are swallowed by the soft press of his lips on mine. At first, it’s slow and searching, a gentle kiss that’s almost like he’s asking for permission, afraid to take more than I’m willing to give. But when I don’t pull away, when I lean into him, his arms come around me, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens.

The world falls away in that instant. There’s no forest, no confusion, no unanswered questions. There’s only him and me—two souls tangled in a moment of pure connection. His kiss is warm and tender, but there’s urgency to it too, as though he’s afraid that if he lets go for even a second, I might slip away from him again.

When we finally pull apart, breathless, I can still feel the imprint of his lips on mine, the heat of him lingering in the space between us. His forehead rests against mine, and I hear him whisper, his voice hoarse but filled with an undeniable promise.

“I’ll never let you go again,” he murmurs, his words threading through my heart like a vow, and I know, in that moment, he means it.

I take a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs as I glance over at Bhodi. It’s been two weeks since he got out of the hospital, and though he still looks pale and a bit fragile, there’s a strength in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He catches me looking and gives a small, reassuring smile. I nod back, trying to mask my concern. We’re on our way to a meeting with the Council of Elders, and I can’t shake the feeling of apprehension that’s been gnawing at me all morning.

Reef walks beside me, his face set in a determined expression. He’s been our rock through all of this, but I can see the toll it’s taken on him. We’ve all been through hell, but somehow, we’re still standing. Bhodi, Reef, and I, we’re a unit, and that’s what matters.

As we enter the Elder’s council chamber, the gravity of the situation hits me. The room is dimly lit, the walls adorned with ancient tapestries depicting the history of Aerwyna. The thirteen Elders sit in a semi-circle, their faces grave and eyes fixed on us as we approach.

Elder Ayomide gestures for us to sit, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for coming,” he begins, his voice carrying a weight of authority and concern. “We need to debrief about the recent events, including Malia’s ritual and the Shikari attack.”

The tension in the room is noticeable, palpable, as Bhodi shifts uncomfortably in his seat. The memories of that day are still raw, the pain and chaos fresh in our minds. Reef speaks up first, recounting the attack, the Shikari’s overwhelming numbers, and the desperate fight for survival. He explains how we barely escaped, how Bhodi was gravely injured by a blade tipped with Shikari blood and how the professor fell. Finally, he puts forth our argument for having our memories unlocked.

When Reef finishes, there’s a heavy silence. The Elders exchange glances, their expressions troubled. It’s like there’s an entire secret conversation that takes place in those looks. One we are not privy to.

Elder Ayomide speaks again. “We understand the severity of what you’ve faced, and we commend your bravery. However, we cannot restore your memories at this time. The mission is not complete, and there are still dangers we must protect against.”

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