The Ytherrian Luminary

The evening was quiet, the forest bathed in golden light as the sun dipped below the horizon. Xalin sat on a fallen log, his gaze fixed on the shimmering leaves above him. The tension from the day's revelations about the Shadow League lingered in his chest, but tonight felt…different.

Lira approached him, her steps light but purposeful, carrying a small pouch of medicinal herbs. "Let me see your arm," she said, her voice soft but insistent. Xalin blinked, realizing he'd been absentmindedly rubbing a scratch he didn't even remember getting.

"It's fine," he muttered, but Lira rolled her eyes and knelt beside him.

"Fine isn't good enough," she said, pulling out a strip of cloth. She carefully cleaned the wound, her fingers grazing his skin. Xalin watched her, noticing for the first time the way her auburn hair caught the fading sunlight, turning it into strands of fire. Her eyes, sharp and determined, seemed to hold a depth he hadn't bothered to see before.

"Why are you staring?" Lira asked, not looking up.

"I wasn't," Xalin replied too quickly, looking away. His markings glowed faintly in embarrassment, betraying him.

Lira smirked, tying off the bandage. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

Xalin laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "I've been told."

They sat in silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the forest filling the space between them. Xalin couldn't help but steal glances at her, his thoughts drifting. She had been with him through everything—fights, losses, and the weight of being the Luminary. Yet, he'd never taken the time to truly see her.

"Lira," he began hesitantly.

"Hmm?" she responded, leaning back and looking up at the stars beginning to dot the sky.

"You've always been here," he said, his tone softer than usual. "Through all of this chaos, you've stayed. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Lira turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Well, someone has to keep you alive, Sparky," she teased, but there was a warmth in her voice.

Xalin chuckled, but his gaze didn't waver. "I mean it. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Lira's cheeks flushed slightly, and she quickly stood, brushing off her pants. "Don't get all sentimental on me now," she said, her back to him.

Xalin smiled, watching her. He felt something shift inside him—a quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, there was more between them than friendship forged in battle.

As they walked back to the camp, side by side, Xalin felt lighter, despite the weight of his responsibilities. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to hope—not just for the future of the universe, but for

something closer, something real.