Ash didn't return to the forge after the stranger left.
He told Master Brenn he had a headache.
Which was half-true. Mostly, he just couldn't stop thinking. About the mirror. The voice. The stone. The man. His own hands, which hadn't glowed once today, thank the heavens.
So he wandered. With no aim, no destination.
And somehow—of course—he ended up at the orchard trail that wound behind Elira's house.
"Figures," he muttered. "Fate's got a sense of humor."
He saw her before she saw him. Or maybe she did see him and just didn't care to say anything.
She sat under one of the old trees, book in lap, boots off, feet brushing the moss-covered roots. The sunlight through the leaves dappled across her dark hair, and the wind teased loose strands across her face.
Ash stayed silent for a moment. Just watching.
Then: "You know, if you're gonna read ancient scrolls under magical trees, you should at least pretend to look surprised when the mysterious chosen one stumbles in."
Elira didn't look up.
"I'd be surprised if the 'mysterious chosen one' had better lines."
Ash smirked. "Ouch. My ego just tripped and fell."
She finally glanced up, her expression unreadable. "What do you want?"
"Well, technically, I want the ground to stop acting like it's hiding secrets under my feet and for lightning to stop coming out of my hands. But for now? I just wanted to see what you were reading."
Elira sighed and shut the book. "It's not a scroll. It's poetry."
Ash blinked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
He sat across from her, a respectful distance away. "I didn't think people who hunt forbidden magic and train with flying knives had time for poetry."
"Even shadows rest," she said.
The silence stretched. Comfortable, but loaded.
Ash plucked a leaf from the ground. Twirled it in his fingers. "So… about the other night. That thing that happened. That—whatever it was—I know it wasn't normal. And I know you felt it."
Elira was quiet.
Then: "I didn't say it wasn't real."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "That's the closest thing to agreement I've heard from you."
She looked at him. Really looked. Her voice dropped. "I don't know what it is. That's the truth. But I've seen magic twist people. Ruin them. Burn through their bones until there's nothing left but light. And I've seen it fake memories. Create illusions. Make someone believe they're a god when they're just broken."
Ash went still.
"...That supposed to be a warning?" he asked softly.
"No." Her voice cracked, just slightly. "It's supposed to be a fear. Mine."
The wind shifted. The orchard hushed.
Ash didn't laugh this time. Didn't tease.
He just nodded.
"Well, then," he said, smiling faintly. "I guess it's a good thing I'm hard to ruin."
Elira's eyes softened. She looked away first.
"I hope so," she murmured.
Another silence.
Then she stood, brushing her skirt down.
"You should go. The sky's changing."
Ash tilted his head. "Is that your way of saying I'm about to get hit by magical lightning again?"
"No," she said, already walking past him.
"It's my way of saying something's watching."