The fountain's gentle trickle echoed through the garden like a lullaby from another time, softened by the weight of dusk as it descended. Shadows spilled longer across the cobblestone path, weaving around the flowerbeds and low stone walls like threads in a living tapestry. Above them, the sky had started to fade from gold to a smoky lavender, as though reluctant to give up the day.
Caelum sat at the edge of the fountain, his fingertips trailing through the water absently. The coolness steadied him, though he couldn't quite place why he needed it.
Elowen stood a little apart, her fingers brushing along the petals of a blooming night-flower, its silvery hue reflecting the dying light. She looked peaceful—almost.
"You're staring again," she said without looking at him, voice soft, almost teasing.
Caelum smiled, his eyes still fixed on her. "You always seem a little more magical when the sun sets. Like you're about to vanish into the dusk."
Elowen finally turned to him, and there was something gentle in her expression—a warmth that hadn't been there when they first met. "If I vanish, would you follow me?"
He didn't hesitate. "Of course. Even if you took the stars with you."
She blinked, clearly caught off guard by the earnestness in his tone. But the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile.
"Then I suppose I'll have to stay," she murmured, walking closer until she stood beside him. "Can't have you chasing after the stars barefoot."
Caelum chuckled, and without thinking, reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't flinch. Didn't pull away. In fact, she leaned in—just slightly—like his touch was something familiar.
"I saw a flower today I didn't recognize," she said after a moment, her voice quieter. "In the garden near the east wall. It was... blooming where nothing else should."
Caelum tilted his head. "Was it beautiful?"
Elowen nodded. "Strangely. Like it wasn't meant to be there, but still refused to wilt."
Something about her tone made his chest tighten. "Maybe it's like you," he said. "Out of place… but stronger because of it."
For a long second, they just sat in the silence that followed. No need for words. The air around them seemed to hold its breath.
Then, suddenly, Elowen perked up, her eyes brightening as if she'd remembered something. She dug into the pocket of her outer dress and pulled out a small bundle—ribbon-wrapped and oddly delicate.
"I was going to wait for your birthday," she said, almost shy, "but I think… now is better."
Caelum raised an eyebrow, curiosity blooming in his chest. "What is it?"
"Open it."
He took the bundle with care, untying the thin purple ribbon. Inside was a small woven charm—intricately knotted threads forming the shape of a four-pointed star. The stitching was uneven in places, the embroidery clearly hand-done, but it radiated warmth.
"I made it," Elowen said, cheeks flushed. "It's for safety. It's not magical or anything, but… I thought it might help."
Caelum stared at it for a moment longer before slipping it into his coat pocket over his heart. "It already helps," he murmured. "Thank you, Elowen."
Their eyes met. And for once, the silence between them felt entirely full—of unspoken things, shared memories, and the kind of closeness that needed no explanation.
As the evening deepened, they wandered back toward the house—but not toward their rooms. Elowen tugged on his sleeve gently.
"Let's go the long way," she said.
Caelum nodded, and they took the winding path that led past the rose trellis. Somewhere along the way, she slipped her hand into his. Neither of them said anything about it.
They found themselves at the wisteria archway, where the blossoms hung low and fragrant in the twilight. Caelum exhaled slowly.
"I used to read about places like this," he said. "Peaceful corners where time stops."
Elowen tilted her head. "And?"
"And now I'm in one," he said, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "With someone I didn't think I'd get to meet."
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. "You make it sound like I'm a character in a story."
He met her eyes, solemn. "Maybe you are. But you're writing your own ending now."
She smiled, and it was the kind that lingered.
Just before they turned to head inside, Caelum felt a brief pulse at his side. The notebook in his coat rustled softly—though there was no wind. When he checked it, nothing had changed. No glowing lines. No cryptic messages.
Still, the sensation lingered. A breath in the air. A presence watching—quiet, patient.
He tucked it away.
Later that night, Elowen sat on her window seat, hair down, robe loose around her shoulders. Caelum leaned beside the frame from outside, having climbed up with a boyish grin and a scraped knee.
"You look like trouble," she said, amused.
"Trouble sleeps better under the stars," he replied, offering her a half-wilted daisy he'd picked along the way.
She accepted it like it was a diamond.
They sat like that—him outside, her inside—until the moon rose higher. Talking in whispers. Laughing quietly. Letting the world slow down around them.
And when he finally said goodnight, there was a hesitation. A shared glance. Something unspoken shimmering in the quiet.
Then Caelum touched the pocket over his heart where her charm now rested and said, softly, "Sweet dreams, Elowen."
Her smile was the last thing he saw before climbing down—one part promise, one part warmth.
And in the stillness of her room, long after he was gone, the petals of the daisy began to glow faintly with magic.
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Sorry for the late upload, I wanted to modify some stuff.