{"They brought me to control you, because even the Emerald Council fears what rises when you choose your path." — Caelan}
His words were a spark. I was the storm cloud ready to ignite, and one heartbeat passed, then I grabbed him. I crashed my mouth against his, no pretence, no hesitation. This was not a kiss; it was a claiming. A collision of fire and depth, fury and longing. His lips opened under mine with a low gasp, and I devoured the sound like it was the first breath of air after centuries underwater.
He tasted of wild wind and crushed sage; of reckless magic and things I had no name for. And gods, I wanted more. I wanted to drown in him, and Caelan gripped my shoulders, nails digging in as if he, too, had waited too long for this. His power flared between us, ancient and raw, the unmistakable heat of a witch-fea's heart unchained.
My magic rose to meet it, and the Abyss answered not slowly, not quietly, but with a surge that roared from my core like a tidal wave unshackled. The black current of my dominion twisted into his wildfire, and where they touched, we exploded. A pulse of light, blinding and violet-edged, erupted between our bodies. The waves around us heaved and crashed outward. The ground trembled beneath our feet. The air cracked, heavy with salt and smoke and something older than either of us.
His mouth moved with mine like we were two parts of the same unspeakable force, drawn together across lifetimes, bound by something more powerful than fate. Our magic did not just meet; it tangled, twisted, and clung.
I had known war. I had known the command. I had known silence, but I had never known this. Caelan's hands slid into my hair, and I pulled him tighter, deeper, letting the world fall away until all I knew was his breath, his heat, and the chaos we had unleashed together. We were no longer prince and sovereign. No longer witch and abyss. We were fury and want. Fire and tide and gods help us both, I did not want to stop.
The surge of magic began to ebb, its thunderous roar falling into a low hum that buzzed beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.
Our kiss slowed not from reluctance, but from the unbearable weight of what it had become.
I softened my grip, though I still held him as if he were the only solid thing in a world spun off its axis. My mouth moved against his now with reverence, not rage, deep, searching, aching.
Caelan moaned into me, and the sound snapped everything in me. It was soft, drawn from the base of his throat like something pulled from the very centre of him, and it sent heat coiling through me like wildfire through dry reeds. My hunger shifted to longer just for the kiss, but for him. For the way, his body fit against mine. For the trust in his hands sliding along my shoulders. For the way he gave himself over to the moment, not as a fae or emissary of the Council, but as Caelan.
I kissed him deeper, slower, letting my tongue tease at the edge of his, tasting magic and breath and something sweeter. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently, like he could not bear the idea of even an inch of space between us.
My lust rose sharp and urgent, but not wildly focused. I wanted to memorize the curve of his mouth, the way his chest rose and fell against mine, the subtle tremble in his body when I deepened the kiss just enough to make him whimper again.
I wanted more, but not just his body. I wanted his mind, his secrets and even his soul.
When I finally pulled back, barely, my forehead pressed to his, both of us breathless and glowing with the mingled aftermath of our unleashed power. His lips were swollen, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and beautiful in the twilight gloom.
"We should stop," I murmured, my voice rough and low.
I might have kissed him again, deeper this time, until we forgot what we were and remembered only who we were beneath it all. But the moment was shattered with a familiar voice, cutting clean and cold through the haze of magic and heat.
"Your Majesty."
Tharion's tone was composed, but I heard the tension thrumming beneath it. The Abyssal Warden did not interrupt lightly. I turned my head slightly, jaw tight, still holding Caelan close as I glanced toward where my most loyal guard stood just beyond the curve of the dune. The sea framed him in silhouette, his dark armor streaked with seawater and glowing runes, eyes fixed on me with cool precision.
"My lord," Tharion continued, "Lady Nerisca, Lord Ardanis, the Fae Scholar Ellowen, and General Kallion have… forced the Emerald Gold back into the water with spell craft. They now request an audience with urgency."
Caelan's hands slid from my chest, slow, reluctant. I felt the shift in him, not shame, not guilt, but duty reclaiming its space between us like a blade wedged into soft flesh. He stepped back, his expression unreadable. The heat from our kiss still lingered on my lips, but his body pulled away like a tide retreating from the shore. Controlled. Regal. Witch-fae once more.
"They wouldn't have come all this way just to make demands," I said aloud, more to myself than to either of them. "Not unless something larger has moved behind the veil."
Caelan tilted his head slightly, his voice was again measured, but not cold. "They have something to say, but you are the only one the Council still fears."
"And you?" I asked, locking eyes with him. "Do you fear me, Caelan?"
He smiled faintly, though there was something bittersweet in it now.
"No," he murmured. "I feel you. That is far more dangerous."
I nodded once at Tharion, sharp and deliberate.
"Let them in."
I raised my hand in command, fingers curling with authority. The sea behind him surged in response, parting slightly as if my will shaped the tide itself.
Tharion did not move right away.
Instead, he huffed low and sharp, like a wolf too proud to bare its throat. His armor creaked as his stance shifted, tension rolling off him in silent waves of disapproval.
I turned to him slowly.
My eyes began to glow not just with power, but warning. The abyss stirred behind them, dark and ancient, curling outward like a shadow just beneath the skin. Tharion stilled and the silence stretched thin. Caelan stood beside me, watching. I could feel his gaze sharp, assessing not fearful, but curious. Like he was studying how I ruled the creatures who guarded my world.
Tharion finally bowed his head, not in surrender, but in acknowledgment. "As you command, your majesty," he said, and turned. Without another word, he walked back into the sea, water rushing around his legs before swallowing him whole.
I stood there for a beat, feeling the surf lick at my boots, and then turned to Caelan and his expression gave me nothing. I stepped closer. "Now tell me," I said, voice low, laced with the threat of truth, "why they are here, Caelan. Why are you here?"
My eyes locked onto his, glowing still and he remained silent for a while, and I added "You better not bullshit me "
"The council is here to ask you to deal with whatever is rising in the ocean," Caelan responded.
His voice was even, but I heard the edge beneath it, a thread of unease, of something he was not saying.
I narrowed my eyes. "Ask?" I echoed, a bitter laugh curling at the edge of my mouth. "Is that what this is now? The High Council sends envoys, breaks the boundaries of the Abyssal Gate, and storms the Pearl Castle to ask?" I stepped in, close enough to feel the magic still clinging to his skin. "And they tagged you along? Why?'
His expression did not flinch. Gods, he was good at that. Holding his mask even as the storm churned behind his eyes. "No one commands the Abyss," I continued, softer now, dangerously calm. "If they think I want to be involved in anything that touches Emerald Gulf, they've forgotten who I was before I wore this crown."
The wind pulled at our cloaks, the sea rising higher now, stirred by something in me I could not bury. I studied him for a moment longer. The way his jaw tensed and the way he did not look away.
Then I leaned in, my voice a quiet thunder against his ear. "You felt what was rising; that is why they dragged you along?"
Caelan stepped back and the space between us felt colder for it. His eyes so vividly green in the storm light darkened with something deeper than anger. Something closer to exhaustion. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, like gravel scraped raw over stone.
"They came to ask for your help," he said. "That is what they will say with all their polished words and veiled threats. The Council is concerned that the seas are stirring. That something old and foul is waking beneath the waves."
He swallowed hard, and for the first time, I saw the flicker of resentment just behind the controlled calm.
"But they do not want your counsel, Morkai. They want your power. They want to throw you into the deep and see what you drag back up from the black. They would have you bleed in the dark just to name the monster rising."
He exhaled, shaking his head. "And Ardanis—" The name came off his tongue like acid. "He insisted I come with them. The reason my senses were the strongest among the witch-fae. I can feel what is moving in the currents before it breaks the surface. I have been his seer since I was old enough to stand in a casting circle." His mouth twisted in something close to disgust.
My breath stilled, and Caelan had spoken just the truth, finally laid bare in the hush between waves. I looked at him, really looked, and I saw the weight he carried. The fury was carefully restrained in his jaw, the bitterness sewn into the edges of his voice. A creature trained to feel what no one else dared face, then sent to fetch the monster that could stop it. "Let's go," I said and turned and walked towards the castle, and I felt him hesitate for a while, and finally he followed me silently, both our minds in turmoil.