Chapter 34: The Gift Buried in Ashes
The wound was gone.
Selene hadn't moved in what felt like hours. Her breath was shallow, a quick staccato of pulses that didn't feel like her own. The room was cold, steeped in stillness, but not even the bite of night air could anchor her. The silence between them was thick, a tension woven from everything that had just happened and everything they couldn't yet say. It clung to her skin, seeped into her bones.
Her side — where Aria had healed her — was whole. Smooth. Unmarked. No scab, no scar, no hint of the agony she'd endured. It was as if the wound had never existed. But the pain hadn't vanished. Not entirely. It lingered in memory, ghosting through her mind in fragments: the helplessness, the weight of bleeding out, the knowledge that her end had been moments away.
Yet Aria had changed that.
She had done something impossible. Something forbidden. Selene could still feel the remnants of it — threads of golden light humming faintly beneath her skin, as if a divine thread had been sewn through the edges of her soul. Whatever Aria had done, it hadn't just healed her body. It had rearranged something fundamental.
Selene stared at her, barely breathing. Aria sat curled at the edge of the cot, shoulders tense, fingers twisting nervously in the hem of her sleeve. She hadn't spoken either. Maybe she didn't know how. Maybe she was afraid of what had awakened.
Selene didn't blame her. She was afraid too.
The silence pulled tighter, taut as a bowstring.
Finally, her voice broke through the stillness, cracked and low. "Why now?"
The question hung in the air like frost, delicate and dangerous. Selene hadn't meant to speak it aloud, but it had clawed free from the depths of her chest, scraping its way out.
Aria's head snapped up. Her eyes were wide, still glossed with shock, a trembling uncertainty flickering beneath her lashes. "I… I don't know." Her voice was barely there. "I saw you fall. I saw your blood and… I couldn't let you die." Her hands lifted, palms facing her like she still couldn't believe what they'd done. "It felt like my whole body was on fire, but not hot — like something inside me broke open and the light just spilled out."
Selene felt her breath catch. Her gaze lingered on Aria's hands. Small. Fragile. But they had cradled power. Power that should have destroyed her — or worse.
"I would've died without you," Selene said quietly, the words sliding out too easily. They carried more than thanks. They carried awe, terror, devotion.
Aria swallowed hard. "You've said that before."
Selene flinched. Aria didn't mean it cruelly — she was too innocent for that. But the words still cut deep. Because they were true.
How many times had Aria saved her? How many times had she burned for Selene, not even knowing the price?
Selene's heart twisted. She longed to pull her close, to bury her face against her shoulder, to hold her like a talisman and beg her never to burn again. But she couldn't say any of that. Not yet.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, to the patterns of moonlight stretching across the stone. "It wasn't like before," she murmured. "This wasn't survival. This was something else."
Aria looked up at her, confused. "Then what was it?"
Selene didn't answer. Couldn't. Because she didn't know. Because maybe it was love. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was something darker than both. She closed her eyes. Her chest ached with the weight of what she couldn't say.
She turned her head toward the window. The pale moon hung low, and its light spilled over Aria's face, softening her into something unearthly. The moment felt suspended outside of time. Like the universe had taken a breath and hadn't yet let it go.
But the wound hadn't just healed. It had awakened something.
Selene could feel it stirring beneath the surface of her thoughts — a pressure building slowly, as if the world itself had shifted. This wasn't just a gift. It was a warning. The kind of gift that demanded a cost. And Aria, radiant and trembling, didn't understand what she'd done.
"Do you think I'm… different?" Aria asked suddenly, her voice fragile. Her eyes searched Selene's face, desperate for reassurance but terrified of the truth.
Selene looked at her — really looked at her. At the way her brow creased when she was uncertain, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to say something else but didn't know how.
"Yes," Selene said. "But not in the way you're afraid of."
Aria's expression faltered. "What way then?"
"You were always meant to break the world," Selene said softly. "But only so something better could grow in its place."
Aria didn't respond. She blinked, her lips parting just slightly, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry. But the tears didn't come. She only stared.
Selene couldn't bear it.
She rose slowly, her bare feet soundless on the floor. Her body still felt heavy, still not entirely her own, but the pull toward Aria was stronger than anything else. She sat beside her. Their knees brushed.
Aria's breath hitched.
Selene reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of Aria's hair behind her ear. "You scare me," she admitted. "Because I've seen what power like yours can do. I've seen how it twists people. How it ruins them."
Aria looked down. "Is that what you think will happen to me?"
"No," Selene said, her voice firmer. "That's what I'm afraid they'll try to make happen."
Aria's eyes darted back up to meet hers. "But I'm not like them."
"I know," Selene whispered. "That's why I'm still here."
For a moment, the air was thick again, but not with silence — this time with the weight of everything unspoken. Selene's hand remained at Aria's cheek. Neither of them moved. The warmth of their proximity was strange given Selene's affinity for ice, but even she could feel the charge in the air between them — something magnetic, volatile, holy.
"Selene," Aria said, breathless, as if saying her name was an invocation.
Selene leaned in.
Their lips met — not with urgency, not with fire, but with a gentleness that undid her completely. A kiss born not from desperation but from reverence. Aria melted into it, her fingers trembling as they found Selene's shoulder. She clung to her like a lifeline, like if she let go, the world would end again.
Selene deepened the kiss, slowly, cautiously, tasting every part of this moment. Aria responded with a soft sound, something caught between a gasp and a sigh. Selene's pulse thundered in her ears. This was dangerous. Intoxicating. But it was real.
When they finally broke apart, Aria leaned her forehead against Selene's, eyes closed, breathing uneven.
"I don't know what I am anymore," Aria whispered.
Selene held her tighter. "You're still mine," she said, the words so quiet they barely made it out.
And Aria didn't flinch. She just nodded.
They sat like that for a long time, the quiet cocooning around them. Selene could feel the heat of Aria's skin against hers. She was a creature of light and flame, even if her own body was cold as frost. Somehow, they didn't repel each other. They fit.
Far from them, in a place untouched by mortal hands, the Goddess of Love watched in silence. She stood at the edge of the garden, where flowers never died and time held its breath. She had seen the moment when Aria chose to give everything — again. And for that, she had given her back to the world.
But love, even divine love, never came without consequence. Not when it was born in fire and resurrection.
The choice had been made.
And the cost would soon follow.
Back in the room, Selene exhaled and let her fingers lace with Aria's. The future loomed, uncertain and filled with storm. But tonight, here in this sliver of peace, they had each other.
Selene didn't speak the truth that curled on the tip of her tongue — that she had once watched Aria die, that she had begged gods she didn't believe in to bring her back, that some part of her still feared losing her all over again.
Instead, she whispered, "Sleep, Aria. I'll keep watch."
And Aria, finally, let her eyes close.
Outside, the stars flickered like the dying embers of a memory.
But inside, something new was beginning to rise.