Echoes Of War

15

As the caravan settled into the night, we found ourselves amidst the quiet canvas of the wilderness. The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow upon our makeshift camp.

I was never going to be able to fall asleep and feeling the weight of responsibility, I decided to keep watch. Alone by the flickering fire, I stared into the dancing flames, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold reality of our quest. The air seemed charged with the energy of untold stories, and I couldn't help but succumb to the temptation of practicing my elemental powers.

With a focus on the embers, I summoned the flames to my hand. There was something about the fire element that always calmed my mind, besides its color that presented my tribe, it was always warm.

The sensation was both invigorating and calming, the cold night air giving way to a quiet warmth. I experimented with bending the fire, a new technique I sought to master in the solitude of the night.

Amidst my solitary practice, I sensed someone's gaze upon me. Glancing over my shoulder, I found Killian, leaning against a tree, his eyes fixed on the flames and the dance of fire in my hand. "Couldn't sleep?" I quipped, half-expecting the standard response.

He chuckled, the sound carrying a hint of vulnerability. "Guess I'm not as at ease with the night as I thought."

I lowered my hand, extinguishing the flames, and motioned for him to join me by the fire. As he settled down, his proximity sent a strange warmth through the chill night air. Our eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between us.

"Why don't you fear me?" I blurted out, my gaze unwavering.

He met my eyes with a calm smile. "Fear is reserved for those who've caused harm. You haven't given me a reason to fear you."
"Your Prince fears me....yet I haven't given him a reason to."

"It's not fear, it's admiration. We've all heard stories what've happened to you, your family and tribe but yet you're a strong woman."

I chuckled at the simplicity of his response, a momentary reprieve from the shadows that loomed over our journey. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows on his face. The night held a hushed intimacy, a connection forged in the silent dance of flames and unspoken understanding.

As the flames danced in the quiet night, Killian reached for a nearby stick, twirling it through the fire as he spoke. "You remind me of someone," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the mesmerizing flickers of warmth.

Arching an eyebrow, I couldn't help but ask, "Someone from your tribe?"

"No, not from the tribe," he replied, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "But you share some striking similarities."

Curiosity piqued, I inquired, "In what ways?"

He chuckled, the flames casting shadows on his face. "The way you carry yourself, always putting your tribe first. There's a weight you bear for others, much like her."

Uneasy with the insight, I shifted the conversation. "What do you do in your tribe, then?"

"I'm an assassin," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Amused, I teased, "Well, you're not doing a great job if I can sense you a mile away."

He laughed, a genuine sound that echoed in the night. "Maybe a career change is in order after all."

As our laughter subsided, the silence returned, punctuated by the crackling of the fire. Yet, our eyes lingered on each other, an unspoken connection weaving through the night air.

Changing the topic, I asked, "What about the other three? What are their roles in your tribe?"

Killian shared the unique talents of his companions – Remington's ability to discern lies, Kieran's truth extraction through touch, and Lars, his brother, capable of inducing others to relive their deepest fears. The bond they shared allowed them to pool their powers, a brotherhood forged in the crucible of their shared experiences since childhood.

Curiosity lingering, I probed, "Is this bonding like marriage?"

He chuckled at the notion. "No, it's more like a pact with those who'll always have your back. We choose our own, a brotherhood bound by loyalty and trust."

Intrigued, I asked, "Can you bond with someone romantically, then?"

His gaze met mine, and the air seemed charged with unspoken tension. "In the Wolfkin, we have mates. Individuals chosen by the Moon God, tied by a bond deeper than words."

The revelation hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of a connection beyond tribal divisions. As we sat by the fading embers, the unspoken understanding between us deepened, a magnetic force pulling us closer, hinting at the threads of destiny intertwining in the moonlit night.