Liora sat on the edge of the Elder's stone table, arms crossed, chin high. The room smelled of herbs and firewood, but none of it calmed the storm building inside her.
Across from her, Kael lounged like he belonged here — one leg propped up, a knife in hand, spinning it casually between fingers.
Smug bastard.
"This is a joke," Liora snapped, glaring at Gran Mereth. "You're seriously telling me I need to travel with him?"
Gran's lined face didn't budge. "You and Kael must reach the summit of Aerinthal. The seal is cracking. If it shatters, the ancient darkness it holds will be set free."
"There has to be someone else."
"There isn't."
Kael smiled, not at her, but like he enjoyed watching her squirm. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll try not to let your whining kill me before the mountain does."
Liora stood, fists clenched. "Call me sweetheart again and I swear—"
He rose too, suddenly close. Too close.
"What?" he said, voice low, almost amused. "You'll burn me with your glowing tattoo?"
She shoved him back hard enough to make his boots scrape the stone. "I don't need magic to hurt you."
Kael didn't retaliate. Instead, he licked a cut on his bottom lip — a sharp flash of tongue — and grinned. "That's one point for you, mountain girl."
Gran Mereth slammed her staff on the ground. "Enough."
The air snapped, and just like that, the heat between them turned to ice.
"You two will leave at dawn," the elder said. "The mountain will test you. And if you can't stop bickering long enough to survive it, then the realm is already lost."
Liora looked at Kael again — at the scar cutting across his jaw, the shadow behind his eyes. He wasn't just dangerous. He was broken.
And so was she.
This wasn't a team. It was a collision waiting to happen.
But maybe… that's exactly what the mountain needed.