Fleeting Warmth

In the following morning, the sound of scraping from the guard's claws came instead of an alarm. Nails dragging over stone, a slow, deliberate sound that was neither hurried nor hesitant. Always measured. Always reminding. The lizard-guards didn’t need to announce themselves. Their presence was noise enough.

One waited for me, another for Aeris. Both tall, scaled silhouettes in crusader armor stood rigid in the corridor light, their unblinking eyes reflecting a pale gleam. The guards never looked at each other. They didn’t need to. When they moved, it was in perfect rhythm, as if the same mind pulled their strings.

"Custodian duty." The word already carried weight in my chest, the memory of grime, endless sweeping, and the fractured mirror that had no business existing where it did. I glanced once at Aeris as we stepped out our cells. She gave me the faintest nod, I wasn't sure if it was one of reassurance or of an apology.

Before I could joke about "not having to work every day", the guards split us apart. 

The sound of Aeris' soft footsteps faded as she was lead away from me, further and further until all sound in that direction faded. I tried not to notice how empty it felt without her beside me. After all, I'm always prepared to be alone, I spent most my life like this.

The work itself was the same as last time, sweeping, scrubbing, dusting, the dull repetition made sharper by the silent weight of the lizard-man who stood in the corner. His claws flexed when I slowed my pace, and that was enough to motivate me to keep going. He didn’t need words. The scrape alone carried intent: Do not falter.

The broom I carried dragged over the stone, bristles whispering like dry reeds. The sound filled everything, the empty hall, the stagnant air, the gnawing quiet inside my head.

Without Aeris, the work felt slower, heavier, as if all the tools were carved from the most dense iron. Every sweep, every scrub, just echoed my own isolation back at me.

I caught myself remembering stupid things, how she would pause between strokes to tilt her head like she was thinking about sweet nothings or how her footsteps had the habit of syncing with mine, unspoken, unplanned, they had all been something to lean against.

Now, there was nothing at all.

I told myself I didn’t need her here. I’d always worked alone, lived alone, existed alone. This shouldn’t have been different. Although I appreciated her presence, it was unnecessary. 

But it was. And that difference was exactly what gnawed at me.

I hated the thought, missing someone I barely knew, someone who was also a prisoner like me. But denial didn’t fill the silence. It only made it sharper.

Hours blurred. The stone was cleaner, but my thoughts weren’t. I remembered how Aeris’s presence had softened the monotony before, even just her quiet breathing near my  own or her soft humming of foreign songs that resonated like a soothing lullaby. Now, the void she left was even louder than the guard’s claws.

When at last we were returned, the guards made their way down separate corridors, vanishing without so much as a thank you. The silence they left behind was heavier than their presence had been.

I sat against the wall in my cell, breathing out a slow, tired laugh. “Funny isn't it? Right when I was getting used to your company, we were asked to work alone. Who’d have thought I’d miss sweeping next to someone.”

Aeris’s voice carried through the wall, gentle, almost amused. “Strange what we grow to value. I felt it too. The quiet today was… sharper, you've changed, it was a nice change that had your absence feel... harsh. Cold, even."

“Yeah... it was cold" I let the word hang in the air, then I found myself shaking my head. “Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I’m still the same as always. It’s not like I suddenly… care about this place much less about proving my innocence to get out.”

“I didn’t say you cared about the prison.” Aeris’s tone was soft, but certain. “I said you’re changing. Even if it's just a little.”

Even though I knew she couldn't see, I still frowned at that. “Changing how? By admitting I hate being alone? That’s not growth. That’s just being human.”

“Exactly.”

I leaned my head back against the wall, the silence between us stretching. For some reason, the simple affirmation unsettled me more than any lizard guard ever had.

“…You’re imagining things,” I muttered at last.

“Perhaps.” She paused, then her voice warmed. “But even a little shift matters. You speak differently than when you first arrived. You carry yourself differently too, at first you truly didn't care, you seemed unhappy with life itself. However, look at you now.”

I tried to protest, but the words caught themselves on nothing. I didn’t want to admit she might be right, or worse, get upset at her talking like she knows me so well. Denial felt safer. “You really think so?”

“I do.” Her words lingered, steady as a candle flame. Then something shifted. Not loud, not sudden, but subtle, like a draft slipping through a cracked window.

I noticed it before I could even explain it, the air between us softened.

At first it was nothing more than a trick of imagination, I thought. But then, the wall itself seemed to breathe. Not the weird pulsing that it typically does outside but rather, a faint glow threaded through the crack in the stone, too gentle to be light, too relaxing to be malicious.

Warmth seeped across the barrier, brushing against my skin. Not the harsh, sweltering heat of labor, but something… human. The kind of warmth you forget you’re missing until it touches you again.

My shoulders, tense for hours, loosened. The ache behind my ribs dulled. For one second, the cell didn’t feel like a cell at all.

I leaned toward it, palm pressing against the cold wall as if I could catch it before it vanished. “Aeris… what did you...”

Her breathing was controlled, measured, like she was steadying herself. Then she spoke, quiet, almost apologetic:
“It’s only a small amount of magic. A simple spell of warmth. Nothing more.”

The glow throbbed faintly, as if reacting to her words, then softened again.

“Small?” I whispered. “That felt… real.”

She gave the faintest laugh, embarrassed, as though she’d let slip something too personal. “It’s been so long. I didn’t know if I still could, or if I even had to right to.”

The glow radiated until it disappeared, leaving nothing but ordinary stone again. Yet the warmth lingered in my chest, stubborn, unwilling to be swallowed by the cold.

I caught myself smiling, not out of joy, but relief. Relief that for once, an experience I had with magic, wasn’t something trying to break me down.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, my heart wasn’t cold.