The thorn crown

He found me curled against a tree, soaked, shaking, and silent.

Not crying. Just gone.

Like whatever part of me used to be human had finally hollowed out and left something else behind.

"Ariya."

I didn't look up.

My palms were black with ash. My fingers crusted in dried blood. I didn't know if it was mine.

Or the girl's.

Or the forest's.

"I told you to stay," I said. My voice sounded wrong. Like I'd swallowed glass.

Kael knelt in front of me. His clothes were half-drenched, lips pale.

He didn't answer.

Just watched me.

Like he was afraid to touch me. But more afraid not to.

"You did this?" he asked softly, nodding at the trees behind me.

I nodded.

"Alone?"

I nodded again.

He exhaled, slow. Controlled. Like he was handling a bomb. Which, apparently, he was.

"You felt something," he said.

"Don't."

"You did."

"I said don't"

"You did."

That's when I shoved him.

Hard.

He stumbled back, slipped in the mud, but didn't fall. Didn't yell.

Just stood there. Watching me unravel.

"I didn't ask for this!" I shouted.

The words tore out, jagged and bitter. "I didn't ask to feel any of it. Not her pain. Not your goddamn heartbeat. Not this... whatever this is!"

Kael stepped forward again. "It's called being alive."

"It's a curse."

"No. It's truth."

"I hate it."

"I know."

His voice broke, and that—that shattered something worse.

Because I heard him. The way he said it like he understood. Like he'd felt it too.

Like he wasn't judging me.

Just mourning with me.

I looked at him, rain running down my face, and whispered, "She was just a kid."

"I know."

"I didn't even know her name."

He came closer.

"You don't need to," he said. "You felt her. That's more human than most."

I shook my head.

"I killed the forest. I felt everything."

"And you're still here."

He reached for me. Slow. Careful. Like I might strike or vanish.

I didn't move.

His fingers brushed mine.

And just like that

I felt him.

Not his magic.

Him.

The weight of loneliness in his chest. The desperate relief that I wasn't dead. The fear that I'd hate him for seeing me like this.

I gasped.

He gripped my wrist tighter. "You feel it?"

I nodded, heart pounding.

"Then look at me."

I did.

And the world stilled.

Gold eyes. Rain running down his cheek. One hand on my wrist. The other curled into a fist like he didn't trust himself to hold me yet.

"I know what it's like to burn alone," he said. "But if you think I'll let you bury yourself after that.....after you came back alive? No."

I hated that his voice broke again.

I hated that mine did too.

"I don't want to feel anything," I whispered.

"You already do."

I swallowed. "Then stop touching me."

"Make me."

We stared.

One heartbeat.

Two.

And then

I pulled my hand away.

He let me.

But neither of us breathed right after that.

And somewhere beneath our silence, something old and terrible and aching curled awake.