Page 24 of Starlit Bargains

“That's...” Kai searched for words. “That's really fucked up.”

The profanity, so human and honest, startled a soft laugh from Eliar. “Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose it is.”

They sat in silence again, but it felt different now—less tense, more companionable. The night had fully descended, the clearing illuminated only by starlight and the faint glow that always seemed to emanate from Eliar's skin after sunset.

“So what happens now?” Kai asked eventually. “With our magic connecting, and the village getting suspicious, and those shadow things being drawn to us?”

“I don't know,” Eliar admitted. “This situation is unprecedented. Your magic shouldn't be able to resonate with mine—nothing has in all the centuries I've been here.”

Kai shifted closer, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe that's the point.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but eternal punishment generally has a purpose, right? To teach a lesson, to protect others, something like that?”

Eliar nodded cautiously. “In theory.”

“So what if your punishment wasn't meant to be eternal? What if it was meant to last until something specific happened?” Kai leaned forward, his eyes reflecting the starlight. “Like, say, until you encountered someone whose magic could connect with yours?”

The suggestion was so unexpected, so contrary to everything Eliar had accepted about his fate, that he couldn't immediately formulate a response. He had never considered his exile might have an endpoint, might be a sentence rather than a permanent state of being.

“That's... unlikely,” he said finally, though not with as much conviction as he would have liked.

Kai shrugged. “Just a theory. But it would explain why our magic creates such dramatic effects when it combines. It's like they were designed to work together.”

The idea was unsettling, suggesting a level of cosmic planning that Eliar had never considered. He had always viewed his exile as punishment, pure and simple. The possibility that it might be part of some larger design made him uneasy, stirring old questions he'd long since buried.

“Even if that were true,” he said carefully, “it doesn't explain why you, specifically, would have this effect. Why your magic would be compatible with mine.”

Kai's usual confident expression faltered slightly. “Yeah, that part I haven't figured out yet. I'm just a regular witch. Well, regular-ish. My magic's always been a bit unpredictable, but nothing special.”

“I wouldn't be so certain of that,” Eliar said. “There's something different about your magical signature. I noticed it the first time we met, in the alley. It has an... unusual resonance.”

Kai looked intrigued. “Different how?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” Eliar admitted. “It's like...” He searched for a comparison Kai might understand. “It's like hearing a familiar song played on an instrument you've never encountered before. Recognizable but somehow transformed.”

They were sitting closer now, though Eliar couldn't recall either of them moving. The space between them seemed charged, as if the very air was aware of their proximity.

“Can I try something?” Kai asked, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

Wariness prickled along Eliar's skin. “What?”

“Just... this.” Kai lifted his hand, palm up, small threads of golden magic already dancing around his fingers. “I want to seewhat happens when our magic touches. On purpose, this time. Not accidentally like at the temple.”

Everything in Eliar's carefully constructed existence screamed at him to refuse, to pull away, to retreat back into the safe solitude he'd maintained for centuries. But beneath that caution, something else stirred—curiosity, perhaps. Or hope, long forgotten but not entirely extinguished.

Slowly, reluctantly, he extended his own hand, palm down above Kai's but not touching it. A faint silver-blue shimmer appeared around his fingers, dim compared to the vibrant gold of Kai's magic but present nonetheless.

“Ready?” Kai asked.

Eliar nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Kai raised his hand slightly, allowing the golden energy to rise like steam from a cup. It drifted upward, tentatively reaching for Eliar's outstretched palm. When the two magics met, there was no explosion, no dramatic surge of power like at the temple. Instead, the golden and silver-blue energies twined together like curious vines, forming patterns in the air between their hands that reminded Eliar of the celestial maps he had once used to navigate between stars.

A warmth spread through his palm, up his arm, and into his chest—not the searing heat of power, but something gentler. Something he had almost forgotten how to feel.

Connection.

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