The Fire We Feed

The forest had settled into an uneasy quiet, the kind of silence that hummed beneath the skin and set every nerve on edge. Mist clung to the ground like a restless spirit, curling around the gnarled roots and twisting through the underbrush.

Taryn pulled her cloak tighter against the creeping chill, her steps careful as she maneuvered through the uneven terrain. The cursed chain clinked softly between her and Lucien, a constant reminder of their shared burden. It wasn't just the weight of magic that tied them together—it was the knowledge that neither could afford a mistake. Not here. Not now.

The air was thick with tension, every breath tasting of damp earth and decaying leaves. The wind had stilled, leaving the forest unnervingly still. No birds, no insects. Nothing.

Lucien shifted beside her, his movements quiet, almost too graceful. "Something's off," he muttered, his silver eyes scanning the trees.

The forest had gone still again—too still. Taryn's instincts prickled, sharp and immediate. The cursed chain shifted with every step she took, clinking softly between her and Lucien, as if even the magic binding them sensed what was coming. It was more than just instinct. It was the prickle at the back of her neck, the way the shadows seemed to stretch too far, as if waiting to swallow them whole. 

Lucien's gaze flicked toward her, his expression unreadable. "Stay close."

She shot him a glare. "Like I have a choice."

His mouth curled into a smug grin, but before he could make another infuriating remark, a sound broke through the stillness—a faint crunch of leaves underfoot.

They froze, muscles coiling with instinct.

Then she heard it: the faint crunch of leaves underfoot, deliberate and slow.

They weren't alone.

Taryn's hand dropped to her dagger, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the dense undergrowth around them. The air felt charged—like the moment before lightning struck.

A sharp whistle echoed through the forest—the same signal they'd heard before. The rogue hunters had found them.

Figures burst from the shadows, their blades gleaming in the dappled light. They moved like predators, fast and without hesitation. Taryn's pulse slammed against her ribs as she yanked Lucien closer, forcing them into a tight formation.

"How many?" he murmured, his voice low.

"I see five," Taryn whispered, every muscle coiling with tension. "Moving fast."

Lucien's sword was already in his hand, the sharp edge catching the light. "Then let's make this pretty."

"No room for mistakes," she growled under her breath. There was no time to plan, no chance to run. The cursed chain hummed between them, taut and unforgiving as the forest erupted in chaos.

The first hunter lunged, a blade flashing toward Taryn's throat. She ducked low, the cursed chain snapping taut as she pivoted on her heel. Lucien moved with her, blocking the blow with a fluid sweep of his sword, then spun in the opposite direction, his sword carving through the air in a deadly arc.

Their movements had clicked into place. Taryn ducked beneath a hunter's swing, the chain tugging at her wrist as Lucien blocked another blow with effortless precision. Each step fed into the next, as if they'd been fighting together for years instead of days.

They fought like two halves of a whole, their movements perfectly synchronized, every shift of weight, every swing of a blade in harmony. When Taryn dodged left, Lucien moved right. When Lucien parried high, Taryn struck low.

Taryn lashed out with her dagger, slashing the another hunter across the thigh. The man stumbled with a grunt of pain, just as Lucien stepped forward, driving his sword through the his gut with a brutal efficiency. The man crumpled at their feet, but there was no time to celebrate. More hunters surged towards them, their blades glinting in the dim light.

Taryn pivoted to meet the next attacker, the chain between her and Lucien rattling as they shifted in tandem. One closed in on Lucien, his axe swinging in a deadly arc. Lucien ducked low, and Taryn mirrored the movement without thinking, her shoulder brushing against his. Their bodies moved as one, the chain clinking softly as they dodged the blow.

She felt the heat of him at her back—too close, too steady—but there was no time to dwell on it. Another hunter came at her from the left, and she twisted, dragging Lucien with her as she drove her dagger into the man's side.

The hunter collapsed with a gurgling groan, but not before his blade nicked Taryn's arm. She hissed in pain, clutching her wound for half a second—just enough time for Lucien to step in front of her, his sword raised.

"Focus," he said, his voice edged with urgency. "We're not done."

Taryn didn't need reminding. She launched herself back into the fight, the chain pulling tight as she and Lucien shifted together, their movements sharp and seamless.

A hunter swung a mace at Lucien's ribs, but Taryn was already moving, slashing her dagger across the attacker's wrist. Blood sprayed, and the mace fell harmlessly to the ground. Lucien grunted in approval, their shoulders brushing as he spun to parry another blow.

It was maddening, the way their movements were so in sync now —like a dance they hadn't meant to learn. Every touch, every brush of skin sent sparks through Taryn's nerves, making it impossible to ignore the growing tension between them.

They fought as a unit, their rhythm honed by necessity. When Taryn ducked, Lucien swung high. When Lucien pivoted, Taryn was already moving with him, her dagger a blur of silver. It was brutal, efficient—and far too smooth for comfort.

Another hunter charged toward them, his sword raised high. Lucien blocked the blow, the chain between them pulling tight as Taryn spun behind him. She drove her dagger deep into the hunter's back, her shoulder pressing against Lucien's as she twisted the blade.

For a moment, they stood locked together, their breathing ragged and harsh in the cold air. The hunter fell at their feet, blood staining the forest floor. Taryn's chest heaved as she glanced at Lucien, the weight of his presence pressing against her like a second skin.

"This is starting to feel too easy," Lucien muttered, his silver eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Taryn scowled, her heart hammering in her chest. "Don't jinx it."

But the words barely left her mouth before another hunter appeared—a burly man with a cruel grin and a wickedly curved blade. He lunged toward Taryn, his weapon gleaming in the dim light.

Lucien yanked the chain, pulling Taryn out of harm's way with a force that sent her crashing into his chest. Her breath hitched as their bodies collided, the air between them charged with more than just the fight. 

For a split second, everything else fell away—the hunters, the forest, the cursed chain. All that remained was the feel of Lucien's hand at her waist, steadying her, and the way his breath ghosted against her skin, too close and far too intimate.

"Get down," Lucien growled, shoving her out of the way just as the hunter's blade whistled past her ear.

Taryn hit the ground hard, rolling to her feet with a snarl. Lucien was already there, his sword slashing through the air with deadly precision. The hunter fell with a grunt, blood pooling beneath him.

The forest fell silent once more, the fight over as quickly as it had begun.

Taryn stood panting, her dagger slick with blood. The cursed chain swayed gently between her and Lucien, its magic humming with quiet satisfaction.

They'd won. Again. Together.

Taryn's breaths came hard and fast as she sheathed her dagger, her gaze falling to the cursed chain swaying between her and Lucien. Without a word, she dropped to her knees and began searching through the hunters' belongings. Pouches, belts, anything that might hold the key to their freedom. Her hands moved with a frantic urgency, tossing aside useless trinkets and scraps.

"You all right?"

Taryn nodded, though her heart was still pounding—not from the fight, but from the memory of his hand at her waist, the brush of his breath on her skin. The chain clinked softly as Lucien shifted behind her, his shadow a constant presence at her back. She ignored him, her frustration mounting with every empty pouch.

Her fingers trembled as she ripped open another satchel, only to find it filled with dried herbs and coins. No key. Taryn's shoulders tensed as she forced herself to keep moving, her nails scraping against cold steel and leather straps. The cursed chain felt heavier with every second, its magic coiling around her like a taunt.

"We work well together," Lucien said, his voice low and amused, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Taryn's jaw tightened. "Too well." Finally, she froze, her hands falling still. There was nothing. No key, no escape—just the weight of the chain and the unbearable reality of their bond. Her jaw clenched as she forced herself to stand, brushing the dirt from her knees.

Lucien's grin was slow, deliberate. "Starting to like me, aren't you?"

Taryn shot him a glare, but it lacked the usual bite. "Don't push it."

Lucien chuckled softly, the sound curling around her like smoke. The chain between them rattled as he shifted closer, the space between them shrinking to nothing.

Taryn's breath caught, her pulse thundering in her ears. Every inch of her screamed at her to step back, to put distance between them—but the cursed chain held her in place, binding her to him with a weight that felt heavier than steel.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them thick enough to cut.

Then, without warning, Lucien gave the chain a playful tug, his grin widening. "Admit it, warrior. You're just waiting for me to admit I want you."

Taryn's eyes narrowed, fury boiling almost instantly. "Fuck you."

And just like that, the fragile rhythm they'd found shattered. The heat in her chest surged, giving way to something sharp and volatile.

"Let's go," she muttered, turning away before the urge to punch him won out. Lucien's laughter followed her as she turned away, her heart pounding too fast, too loud. 

Lucien followed, the cursed chain rattling between them as they disappeared deeper into the forest. The fight was over, but the real battle—the one between them—had only just begun.

And Taryn knew, with a certainty that gnawed at her, that this was far from the last time they'd be standing too close.