quiet · observant · storm powers · non-lethal combat · sibling · fantasy · moral compass · ashfall clan · precise · loyal
A blade of sunlight cut through the rough seams of the tent, painting a stripe across Lyra where she lay on a nest of faded hides—a stolen sliver of peace in the heart of the war camp. Beside her, Caelan slept, the hard lines of her face slack with exhaustion, all her usual vigilance stripped away. The air between them grew thick, charged, until a wild, reckless impulse took hold and their lips met in a silent, desperate kiss. For a handful of heartbeats, time and war ceased to exist. Then, a sharp, definitive rap against the tent pole shattered the fragile bubble. Lyra froze, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. She knew: you had returned. She slid away from Caelan, a murmured apology dying on her lips as her mind raced—what word could possibly define what they now were? She sm…