Hatku stirred from sleep, the soft rustling of footsteps filtering in from beyond the stone corridor. Faint light spilled across the floor, painting delicate streaks of amber through the open window. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The guest room felt still, wrapped in early-morning quiet. Tashina remained curled beneath her blanket, breathing evenly. For the first time in days, there was no sense of danger… just peace.
He rose, careful not to disturb her, and followed the sound.
Just outside the guest room, he caught sight of her.
Shyla.
She moved through the corridor with quiet grace, wrapped in a light robe that swayed gently with each step. Her hair was undone—long waves tumbling down her back, still tousled from sleep. The soft gold of dawn kissed her skin, highlighting the curve of her shoulder, the arc of her cheek. Hatku froze.
Something about seeing her like this—unguarded, natural—struck him harder than a blow ever could.
"Good morning," he called out, voice rough and warm.
Shyla turned halfway, her expression softening into a sleepy smile. "You're awake. Good morning! How was your—?"
She didn't finish the sentence.
In three slow strides, Hatku closed the distance between them. He reached out, gently taking her hand before sliding his arm around her waist, steadying her before she could even register the movement.
Their bodies aligned, barely touching, the heat between them immediate. And then, Hatku kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't rehearsed.
It was instinct.
Shyla's breath caught, but she didn't pull away. Her hand fluttered up to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as she leaned into the kiss—soft, electric, full of quiet longing.
When they finally parted, both of them breathless, Hatku stepped back, eyes wide like he'd just realized what he'd done.
"I… I'm sorry, I don't know what came over—"
Shyla blinked slowly, then smiled with playful disbelief. "Yeah… I missed you too."
She turned and walked into the kitchen as though nothing had happened—but the pink bloom on her cheeks betrayed her. Hatku followed, heart hammering in his chest.
Inside the small stone-walled kitchen, the warmth of fire and spices already lingered. Shyla moved about with practiced ease, brushing her hair back with one hand while stirring something fragrant with the other.
"You're lucky I was already planning to make breakfast," she teased, her back turned to him.
"I'd say I'm lucky in a few ways this morning," Hatku muttered under his breath.
Shyla glanced over her shoulder. "What was that?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.
She smirked and returned to her task.
Soon, a steaming bowl of food was placed in front of him, along with fresh tea. Shyla sat across from him, the sunlight catching in her eyes like a flicker of some ancient warmth.
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, until Hatku broke it.
"Do you think someone like me can ever have a real love life?"
She blinked. "That's quite the question for breakfast."
He shrugged, but there was something heavy behind his smile. "It's been on my mind. You… make it hard not to think about."
Shyla leaned forward slightly. "Tell me."
Hatku exhaled, eyes lowering to his food.
"Her name was Lyra. We were together when I was still figuring myself out—when the powers started getting more serious. She was smart, wild, always pushing me. I thought she believed in me."
Shyla watched him quietly, waiting.
"But she didn't love me. She loved the strength she thought she could take. She tried to drain me. Almost succeeded. I fought her. I didn't hold back. And she's gone now."
The room was still.
"You don't seem proud of that," Shyla said gently.
"I'm not. I did what I had to. But it made me question everything—about who I let close, about what people really want from me."
She reached across the table and placed her hand over his. "That wasn't love. That was hunger wearing a pretty face."
Hatku gave a faint nod.
Then, with a spark of mischief in her voice, she asked, "And how would you feel about having me as a girlfriend?"
Hatku froze mid-chew.
His heart dropped into his stomach, then immediately rocketed into his throat. He stared at her, completely stunned.
"I—uh—wha…"
Shyla arched a brow. "I didn't say I was asking. Just curious."
Hatku's face went red. "I… well…"
He couldn't form a sentence, and Shyla just smiled knowingly and took a sip of her tea.
The conversation faded into easy silence again, but the air had changed.
There was no need to say more—at least not yet.
Outside, the sky turned a little brighter.