Too Close

The night air beyond the Bellbark was cooler, quieter. Lanternlight from the festival beyond flickered through the branches, distant laughter and music barely reaching there.

Nero leaned against the railing, dagger spinning idly between his fingers. Ravuun stood across from him, arms folded, his shadow towering in the moonlight.

“At the march,” Ravuun rumbled, voice low but immovable, “you will be next to me. My second in command. Your time has come to carry your duties as the next Warden.”

Nero stopped spinning the blade. His grin faltered, replaced by something sharper. He sighed, as if he remembered the countless times his father had said something similar, all at once.

“Look, father…” Nero’s voice was low, his tone cutting through the quiet. “I’ve told you countless times—I don’t want to be the next warden.”

Ravuun’s jaw tightened. “How long will you run away? I warned you I wouldn’t let you stay irresponsible forever.”

“Irresponsible?” Nero scoffed, pushing off the railing to face him. “I’m not irresponsible just because I don’t do what you expect of me! You never listen! I don’t want to follow in your footsteps!”

Ravuun’s eyes flared. “Then what would you rather do? Run around with the titans for all your life?!”

“If that’s what I desire,” Nero snapped, his voice raw, “then what’s your problem?!”

“You’re still the same reckless boy you’ve always been,” Ravuun barked, each word like a hammer. “You disappoint me. I gave you a seat at the war council so you could grow into the Warden’s mantle—and you didn’t learn a damn thing.”

For a moment Nero froze, dagger trembling in his hand. He’d thought… he’d truly thought his father had given him that seat because he respected his bond with the Aetheralyx. Because he’d finally been seen.

Instead, it was just another leash, huh…

“…So that’s why?” His voice was low, “If that’s all my seat meant, then I don’t need that damn seat anymore.”

He turned, shoulders rigid, words spilling bitterly as he walked away.

“I never asked to be your son.”

Ravuun’s roar followed him like a quake. “Are you abandoning the rebellion, Nero?!”

Nero stopped only long enough to throw the words over his shoulder.

“Of course not. I’ll fight—I ain’t a coward. But I won’t lead like you want me to.”

And with that, he disappeared down the path, the festival’s glow washing over his back until even that was swallowed by the dark.

“Nero! Come back here!” Ravuun’s shout cracked the branches. But there was no answer.

Only the music of the Rootfire Gathering carried on below, as if nothing had happened.

╒ 🗝 ╛

Back at the festival the drums had just shifted into a deeper, steadier rhythm. A space cleared in the center platform, rebels clapping in rhythm. Couples stepped forward, linking hands and beginning to move in spirals, their steps looping inward and apart again.

Sana’s eyes lit up like stars. “Oh, The Rootfire steps…” Her grin stretched evilly, “Perfect timing!”

She spun around and shoved Rokuro and Kagi forward with all her strength.

“Go dance!”

“What—?!” Rokuro staggered into the open circle, barely having recovered from the drink.

“I don’t—” Kagi’s eyes widened as she stumbled after him.

Too late. The rebels had already turned their attention onto them cheering, clapping, whistling.

“It’s the Lock and the Key!”

“Dance! Dance!”

Selka cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted joining in too, “Show us what you’ve got, Lock and Key!”

Heat flooded Rokuro’s face as every eye in Emberhold turned on them. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…!”

Kagi exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “No getting out of this now. We just copy the steps. Nothing more.”

“Easy for you to say…”

The music surged. Rebels stomped and spun. Rokuro and Kagi hesitated—then caught on. Step forward, palms together. Step back, spin apart. Forward again.

Simple. But close.

Too close.

As they locked hands, Rokuro could feel his heartbeat elevate. As Kagi’s palm touched his chest she could feel heat rise to her face.

“This is dumb…” Rokuro muttered.

“Shut up, and keep dancing.”

At one beat, Rokuro’s palm brushed her waist as he caught her spin. Kagi stiffened, a sharp hiss escaping.

“Where are you touching?!”

“H-Hey it slipped!” Rokuro barked back.

Her heel came down square on his foot.

“—Ow!”

They stumbled, clumsy at first, but somehow didn’t stop. The rhythm carried them. Again they clasped hands, foreheads nearly touching.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Rokuro raised a brow at her.

Kagi’s ears went bright red, “W-Where am I supposed to look at then?”

Again they spun apart, only to be drawn close chest-to-chest for a breath before releasing.

“Your hands are colder than I thought…”

“And yours are sweaty.” Kagi made a face, “Gross.”

By the third cycle, their cheeks were burning. Neither dared meet the other’s eyes.The crowd clapped harder, cheering them on. Sana hollered from the edge, “Closer! Closer!”

“Tch— they’re enjoying this way too much.” Rokuro clicked his tongue.

“Maybe they’ve never seen anyone look this foolish before.” Kagi muttered.

Right at the final circle, Kagi stumbled and collided with Rokuro’s chest. He caught her by the shoulders but the distance between them had been reduced to nothing.

For a breath, neither of them moved. The music thundered around them, but all Rokuro could hear was his own heartbeat hammering in his ears.

Both of their faces flared.

Way too close. Way too intimate. And yet… Rokuro couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked from this distance—the flicker of the lanterns catching in her violet eyes, the faint hitch of her breath.

And she, despite herself, found her gaze locked on him.

“W-W-What?” she sputtered.

“Nothing…” he muttered, looking away a fraction too late.

Finally, the music ended in a booming stomp. The circle erupted in applause. Rokuro and Kagi stepped back quickly, both clearing their throats, both very pointedly looking anywhere but at each other.

Selka rushed over, laughing behind her hand, “Wow, you too! If there was a prize for the best dancers you’d win it!”

She looked at the two of them.

“If you were the only ones dancing…” she muttered.

“Oi, you little—“ Rokuro gritted his teeth.

Kagi folded her arms, trying and failing to hide the faintest smile. “…It was tolerable I guess.”

Then Rokuro’s gaze drifted to Sana. She seemed to have lost her energy, leaning against a pole, head low.

“Time for somebody to go home.” Rokuro deduced.

Just like that, the three of them started back toward Rootward together, Sana being awfully quiet.

“Hey, you okay?” Rokuro asked, “You were hopping around harder than a rabbit on caffeine a moment ago.”

Kagi rolled her eyes, “Must be exhausted.”

Rokuro felt her tug at his hand, lighter than before.

“I’m fine…” Sana tried to grin, but her steps dragged.

She stumbled. Rokuro caught her against his chest. “Oi—Sana!”

“Hey are you—“

Kagi dropped to her knees beside them, reaching to steady her. Sana’s shirt slipped against her shoulder, and beneath the fabric, black, metallic spots crept across her skin.

Rokuro had heard about them… he’d seen them before…

Rokuro’s blood ran cold. His grip shook. His head swam. For a moment all he could see was the sister he couldn’t save. Because that little girl in front of him, she…

“No… not her…”

Kagi’s voice was tight, urgent. “Roku—it’s Corrosion.”

The festival noise still echoed behind them, laughter and song carrying on. But here, under the lantern shadows, the night had gone silent.