Page 94 of Too Dangerous To Die

“I give you my breath,” she whispers, lifting her palm. “So you never forget the sound of mine against yours.”

A breeze curls around her fingers, golden threads of magic dancing between us. My chest aches.

“I give you my silence,” I answer, “so when the world is too loud, you’ll always have a place to rest.”

I step closer.

“I give you my strength,” she says, voice trembling slightly, “so when you falter, you remember you’re never alone.”

“And I give you my shadow,” I say, reaching for her, “so no darkness ever touches you again.”

We meet in the middle.

Fingers brushing.

Hearts bared.

The old rites were forged with blood.

Ours is made with choice and strengthened by blood.

She draws a line of magic across my wrist, the same across her own—just shallow enough to call forth the glow beneath the skin. Not pain.Power.

We press them together.

Her magic—warm, fierce, unyielding—meets mine—ancient, steady, forged in stone.

And somethinganswers.

The earth breathes.

The trees sway.

The runes carved in bark long ago light with soft white fire.

We don’t need a god to bless this.

Wearethe miracle.

I look into her eyes, and the words fall from my lips not like a vow, but like truth that’s always been there.

“I have been many things, Nora. Soldier. Monster. Weapon. But I have never beenwholeuntil I was yours.”

She steps closer, tears glistening in her lashes, and places a hand over my chest.

“You were never a monster,” she whispers. “You were a man forced to forget his name. I will spend every day reminding you.”

She rises to her toes.

And when she kisses me, I feel the mountains hold their breath.

Our souls ignite, where they were once halved, they now pulse in time.

Not separate.

Never again.

We don’t need witnesses.

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