Exiled Mage of the Outlands

The ruins of the sunken city offered no warmth.No safety.Just stone, silence, and shadows.

But Kael had never felt more awake.

They'd escaped the Circle by inches. Fought through old magic and death. Riven hadn't left his side once. And now they stood in the ruins of something ancient—bent, broken, forgotten.

Much like them.

They found shelter beneath a shattered dome, once the heart of a Lifebinder's sanctuary. Vines curled around fallen pillars. Moss crept up what remained of a ceremonial arch.

Kael dropped his pack, breath still uneven.

Riven stood a few paces away, arms folded—not from cold, but tension. Her eyes scanned the darkness, but he could feel her magic drawn inward, crackling like embers just under the surface.

He stepped closer, voice rough. "You're still shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You bled for me again."

She shrugged. "So did you."

Kael paused. "Riven… when you touched me during the Rite—when you said you'd hold me if I screamed… I wasn't afraid of the magic. I was afraid you'd stop choosing me once it was over."

Riven turned, slowly.

And she didn't speak. She didn't explain.

She just stepped toward him, reached up with both hands, and grabbed his face—fingers in his hair, thumbs under his jaw—and kissed him like she was done waiting.

Kael staggered backward under the intensity of it.

Heat. Hunger. Home.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It was fierce. Like she was telling him, with every breath, every desperate press of her mouth, I'm still here. I still choose you. Again. And again.

He responded the only way he could—by kissing her back harder.

Faster.

Deeper.

They shed their gear one piece at a time. Not with practiced grace, but with urgent need.

Kael tore off his cloak. Riven yanked open the ties of her shirt. They met again in the half-light, breathless, chests heaving, hands tracing places they'd only dared imagine in silence.

Kael pressed her back against the moss-covered stone wall, his mouth trailing down her neck, lips tasting salt and magic and skin.

Riven arched against him, her fingers tangled in his hair, gasping softly as his hands roamed—slowly, reverently—down her ribs, her hips, the curve of her thighs.

He dropped to his knees before her, pressing a kiss just below her navel.

She shuddered. "Kael…"

"I need to know all of you," he whispered. "Not just the fighter. Not just the one who bled for me. You."

She knelt with him, her forehead resting against his, their hands finding each other again—locking, anchoring.

They moved together onto the blankets near the small fire he'd kindled earlier. Her body pressed flush to his, heat rising between them like a second flame.

He took his time.

Explored.

Cherished.

His hands skimmed her skin with reverence, memorizing every inch like sacred text. Riven moaned softly into his mouth as he slid inside her—slow, deep, trembling—and for a moment, the entire world stilled.

There was no Circle.

No Grove.

No pain.

Just them.

The rhythm they found wasn't perfect—it was real. Their breathing tangled. Their mouths never wandered far from one another's skin. Kael whispered her name like a prayer. Riven bit his shoulder when she came undone beneath him, her nails marking him like vows.

And when she flipped him over—when she climbed onto his lap, kissed his throat, and guided him back in—it was Kael who broke.

His hands gripped her hips.

His eyes locked with hers.

And he surrendered.

Fully.

After, they lay tangled in each other—skin to skin, heartbeats finally steady. Their sweat mixed with dirt and dried blood. Their arms, their legs, their magic… knotted.

Kael tucked a curl of silver hair behind Riven's ear.

She looked at him, raw and open.

"Now you've seen all of me," she said.

Kael nodded. "And I still want more."

She rested her head on his chest, one hand drawing lazy circles over the Lifebinder mark.

"You're not alone anymore," she murmured.

He kissed her forehead, wrapping both arms around her like the world was trying to take her again.

"And I won't ever be."