Chapter 86: Confessions in the Aftermath

The silence that followed the dragon’s retreat was a fragile, brittle thing, filled with the whistling of the wind and the harsh, ragged sound of my own breathing. The adrenaline that had fueled my divine outburst vanished, leaving my mortal avatar feeling as weak and hollowed-out as a dry gourd. My knees gave way, and I crumpled to the ground, every muscle screaming in protest.

But the pain was a distant echo. My entire world had narrowed to the still form of Natsuki, lying broken on the scorched earth.

“Natsuki!” The spell of shock was broken. Lirael and Kaelen were at his side in an instant, their earlier hostility towards me completely forgotten, replaced by a raw, primal fear.

Lirael, her hands trembling for the first time since I’d met her, pressed her palms against the deep gash in Natsuki’s side. A soft, green light, the essence of elven healing magic, flowed from her hands. “The wound is deep,” she said, her voice strained. “His life force is leaking away. My healing can slow it, but I can’t close it.”

Kaelen was a whirlwind of protective fury. She stood over them, her daggers drawn, her eyes scanning the dark mouth of the cave. “The beast could come back. We need to move. Now.”

Elara didn’t move. She remained standing where she was, her face pale, her gaze fixed not on Natsuki, but on me. The awe in her eyes had been replaced by something far more terrifying: understanding. It wasn't a complete picture, but she had seen a piece of the cosmic truth, and it had shaken her to her core. She knew my power was not of this world.

“What… was that?” Kaelen’s voice was a low growl. She had turned from the cave, her sharp eyes now pinning me to the spot. “That wasn’t a sparkle shot. Don’t lie to us. Not now.”

The interrogation I had been dreading was here, at the worst possible moment. I was drained, terrified, and my mind was a chaotic mess. I needed an excuse. A lie big enough to cover a miracle.

“My… my locket,” I stammered, clutching at my chest, where the divine construct used to be. “It… it had a final blessing stored inside. A one-time use defensive art from my… my ancestors. It activated to protect me.” It was a terrible, flimsy lie, a trope from the cheapest of fantasy novels.

Lirael didn’t even look up from her healing. “There is no ancestral art that can negate a dragon’s fire. That was not magic. That was… something else.”

“Something else,” Elara echoed, her voice a whisper. She took a hesitant step towards me. “The energy signature… it had no elemental affinity. It wasn’t arcane, or natural, or even holy in the traditional sense. It was… foundational. The energy that exists before magic.”

I was trapped. My lie had been seen for the paper-thin defense it was. They knew.

It was Natsuki who saved me, just as he always did. A low groan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered open. His gaze was hazy with pain, but it found me instantly.

“Aki…” he whispered, his voice weak. “You… you saved us.”

“Natsuki!” The three girls immediately crowded around him, their focus shifting from me to their leader.

“Don’t talk,” Lirael commanded, her voice softening with affection and worry. “Save your strength.”

“No… listen,” he insisted, wincing as he tried to push himself up. Kaelen gently pushed him back down. “I saw it. Aki… she stood in front of me. She protected us. I don’t care what it was. She’s one of us.” His gaze met mine, and in his pained, hazy eyes, I saw it. Not just gratitude. Not just trust. It was something deeper, something that transcended the logic of the situation. It was unwavering, absolute faith.

His declaration hung in the air, a final, unarguable verdict. The girls fell silent. They looked from his determined face to my exhausted one. They couldn’t argue with him, not now.

The journey back down the mountain was a grim, desperate affair. Kaelen, with her surprising strength, carried Natsuki in a careful fireman’s lift. Lirael walked beside them, her hand glowing with a constant, draining stream of healing magic to keep him stable. Elara and I followed behind, the silence between us heavy with unspoken truths.

We made camp in a sheltered overhang as night fell, the mood a world away from the tense campfire of a few nights before. The hostility was gone, replaced by a shared, grim purpose: keeping Natsuki alive.

After they had made him as comfortable as possible, the three girls gathered a short distance away, their voices low and urgent. I was an outcast, left to huddle by the fire, but my enhanced mortal hearing could pick up their words.

“He chose her,” Kaelen said, her voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “He chose the pixie over Elara. Over the shield. He was ready to die for her.”

“His logic was compromised by emotion,” Lirael stated, though her voice lacked its usual cold certainty. “But… that power she used… Without it, we would all be dead.”

“It is a power that does not belong in this world,” Elara whispered. “She is a paradox. A being of immense, terrifying potential in the body of a fool. But her primary motivation seems to be Natsuki’s protection.”

There was a long pause.

“I hate this,” Kaelen finally grumbled. “I don’t trust her. I don’t like her. But… if she’s the reason he’s still breathing…”

“Then we tolerate her,” Lirael finished, her voice filled with a weary resignation. “We watch her. But we accept her. For Natsuki.”

“For Natsuki,” the other two echoed. It was a pledge. A reluctant, bitter truce born from a shared love for their fallen leader. They had accepted me, not as a friend, but as a necessary, dangerous tool for his survival.

Later, when the others were asleep, I sat by the fire, taking the first watch. Natsuki was sleeping fitfully, his face pale in the firelight. I reached out, my hand hovering over his forehead, and channeled the tiniest sliver of my true divine energy, not as a spell, but as a soothing balm to ease his pain and grant him peaceful rest.

His breathing immediately evened out, the lines of pain on his face softening. His hand, lying limp on his bedroll, twitched, his fingers curling as if seeking something. Without thinking, I placed my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine, a weak but firm grip, even in sleep.

The warmth of his hand was an anchor in the chaotic storm of my existence. I sat there for hours, just holding his hand, watching him sleep, the forbidden contact a sweet, painful secret in the quiet of the night.

Just before dawn, his eyes opened. He looked straight at me, his gaze clear and lucid for the first time since the battle.

“Aki,” he whispered.

“I’m here,” I whispered back, my heart aching.

He squeezed my hand. “When the dragon’s tail was coming down… I didn’t even think,” he confessed, his voice barely audible. “I just… I had to protect you. The thought of you getting hurt was… worse than dying.”

My breath caught in my throat. The divine rules, the warnings, the fear - it all melted away in the face of his simple, devastating confession. He had chosen me. Not as a strategist, not as a hero, but as Natsuki.

“Why?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a deep, gentle warmth that had nothing to do with gratitude and everything to do with something far more dangerous.

“I think,” he said softly, a faint, tired smile on his lips, “I’m falling in love with you.”

And then he drifted back to sleep, leaving me in the cold, pre-dawn light with his confession hanging in the air, a beautiful, impossible, and utterly catastrophic truth that would change everything. I had broken the world to be with him, and now, he was breaking every rule to be with me.