Eclipse of Fire & Wings

The air inside the temple courtyard was thick with the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows against the stone pathways. The temple stood tall, its carved pillars worn smooth by time, its domes glimmering in the dying light, as if they held the remnants of the heavens themselves.

Aaravi could hear the faint chime of bells in the distance, the rhythmic sound of water trickling from the sacred pool, the murmurs of distant prayers carried by the wind. The world had returned to its steady hum, but she had not.

She still felt the echo of the vision beneath her skin, the heat of it pressing against her ribs, curling inside her chest like something alive. And across from her, standing like an immovable force, was Vihan.

She had imagined this moment a thousand times, without ever realizing it.

She had imagined what it would feel like to meet someone who truly saw her.

But she had not expected him.

Vihan was fire made flesh, and the way he looked at her now—**like she was something worth searching for, worth finding—**made her breath hitch in her throat.

His stance was guarded, his frame carved with strength, but she could see the weight of the journey on him. Dust clung to the edges of his travel-worn cloak, the leather straps of his armor creaked with each breath, and his sword—though well-kept—bore the signs of battle.

She had seen warriors before.

She had healed them.

But Vihan was something else.

Something more.

His hair, shorter than she had expected, framed his face in a way that made his sharp features more pronounced. His jawline was strong, his cheekbones high, and his skin—rich and sun-bronzed—was streaked with faint remnants of the road he had traveled. But it was his eyes that held her still.

Molten gold.

Deep, endless, heavy with something she could not name.

His gaze did not waver.

Neither did hers.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, finally, he exhaled, as if the weight of the journey had not fully left his lungs. "I thought finding you would bring me answers."

Aaravi blinked. Her voice was steadier than she expected. "And?"

His jaw tensed. "I have more questions."

Mira made a noise of amusement beside her. "Ah, yes. That is how fate works. Terribly inconvenient, isn't it?"

Vihan's gaze flicked toward the elder woman, as if noticing her for the first time. "And you are?"

Mira placed a hand over her chest, smiling as if she were terribly pleased with herself. "Mira. Healer, elder, bringer of wisdom. And apparently, your new favorite person."

Vihan turned back to Aaravi, his brow raised. "You keep her around?"

Aaravi sighed. "She's difficult to get rid of."

Mira let out an exaggerated gasp. "You wound me, child."

A ghost of something—almost a smirk—touched Vihan's lips. "You remind me of my friend Varun."

"Oh, excellent," Mira said, beaming. "He sounds wonderful. He and I should meet."

Aaravi groaned. "Mira."

Mira ignored her completely, shifting her focus back to Vihan. "So, tell me, warrior. What is it you think you've found here?"

Vihan hesitated.

Aaravi watched the way his fingers flexed at his sides, as if he were resisting the urge to reach for something—a weapon, a truth, a past he had not been prepared to face.

Finally, he spoke.

"I don't know," he admitted. His voice was deep, rich with something unspoken. "I thought I was following a dream. But dreams don't… feel like this."

Aaravi swallowed. "No," she murmured. "They don't."

Vihan's gaze darkened slightly, his focus sharpening on her. "You saw me," he said, voice quieter now, but no less intense. "Back there. When you touched me. You saw—"

"The truth of you." Aaravi finished the thought for him, because she had.

A flicker of something passed across his face—something restrained, something careful. "Then tell me."

Aaravi hesitated. "Tell you what?"

"What you saw." His voice was careful, measured. "What… I am."

Aaravi studied him, her heart steadying. "You are fire."

Vihan inhaled sharply, as if she had struck him.

She stepped forward, slowly, watching the way his body tensed in response. Not in fear. Not in anger. But in something else.

Something neither of them had the words for yet.

"You have burned for so long," Aaravi continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know how to stop."

The temple air felt warmer now, the space between them smaller than it had been a moment ago.

Vihan held her gaze, something unreadable flickering in his expression. "And you?" he asked.

Aaravi hesitated.

She had spent her life tending to the wounds of others, giving so much of herself that sometimes, she feared there was nothing left.

She had never been the one seen.

But now, under the weight of his gaze, she was.

A deep, slow inhale.

"I am the one who gives," she said finally. "Until there is nothing left."

Something in Vihan's face shifted.

And she knew then, without words, that he understood.

Mira cleared her throat, breaking the spell between them.

"Well," she said. "This is all very intense. Should I prepare a wedding ceremony, or are we taking our time?"

Aaravi groaned, stepping back.

Vihan smirked—an actual smirk, small but real. "You are an interesting woman, Elder Mira."

"Oh, I know," Mira said breezily. "I've been told."

Aaravi shook her head, but she was smiling now.

Vihan caught the expression, his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

Mira clapped her hands, drawing their attention back to her. "Well, this is lovely. Two souls bound by fate, lost in a dramatic stare-down. Should I have tea prepared, or will you two continue standing here like stunned deer?"

Aaravi shot her a look. "Not now, Mira."

Mira hummed, entirely ignoring her. "No, no, this is wonderful. I've been waiting for you to be completely unraveled by something other than the temple's tea shortage."

Aaravi exhaled sharply, turning back to Vihan—only to find him staring at her.

Hard.

Like she was something he couldn't quite understand.

Or maybe something he did.

She could still feel the lingering warmth of his fire, the heat of the visions settling in her bones. This was not an accident. He had come here, guided by something neither of them could name, and now—

Now, what?

She swallowed. "Why did you come?"

Vihan studied her, his gaze heavy, thoughtful. "Because you told me to."

Aaravi's breath caught. "I—"

"In the dream," he clarified. "You said, 'Find me.'" His fingers flexed slightly at his sides. "So I did."

Mira made a pleased noise. "Well, that's unsettlingly romantic."

Aaravi ignored her, her heart pounding.

She didn't know what to say to that.

For years, she had given, given, given—never expecting anything in return. Never asking. Never being found.

And now, he was here.

Aaravi felt it in her bones.

This—**whatever this was, whatever this would become—**was only the beginning.