The first thing Mathew noticed was the music. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before—a hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to awaken the air itself. It was alive, carrying with it a rhythm that called to the soul, its notes filled with longing and joy.
He sat up slowly, his body still stiff from the wounds Lysander had inflicted. The pain was a dull throb, manageable compared to the agony he remembered. His shirt lay neatly folded beside him, and he slipped it on, the soft fabric brushing against the healing cuts and bruises.
Carefully, he rose to his feet, steadying himself as he made his way to the doorway of the hut. As he stepped outside, the sight before him left him breathless.
A massive bonfire crackled and roared in the center of a clearing, its golden flames reaching skyward. Around it, a throng of figures moved in a mesmerizing dance—humans, non-humans, and creatures Mathew couldn't name. Their bodies swayed and spun, their faces alight with joy and abandon. The air was thick with the scents of roasting meats, spiced stews, and the sweet tang of alcohol.
But it was the singer who truly captivated him.
Valyn stood near the fire, her voice soaring above the music. It was ethereal, a sound that seemed to reach into the depths of his being and tug at something he hadn't known was there. Her expression was radiant, her joy infectious. She moved with a grace that was almost otherworldly, her presence commanding the attention of everyone around her.
Mathew found himself leaning against the doorway, his gaze fixed on her. For a moment, he forgot his pain, his confusion, and the weight of his mission. He was utterly mesmerized.
"You've got that look in your eye," a deep voice said, pulling him from his thoughts.
Mathew turned to see Grius approaching, two mugs of amber-colored ale in his hands. The older Tiefling handed one to Mathew and settled beside him on the wooden steps.
"She's quite the singer, isn't she?" Grius said, his tone light but knowing.
Mathew took a sip of the ale. It was sweet and smoky, its warmth spreading through him. "She's… remarkable," he admitted, his voice softer than usual.
Grius chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "She seems to think the same about you."
Mathew looked away, unsure how to respond. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, especially from someone as captivating as Valyn.
"She's special," Grius continued. "Strong, kind, and fiercely loyal. If you're smart, you'll hold onto that."
The words hung in the air between them. After a moment, Mathew sighed. "I've never been good at holding onto anything," he admitted.
Grius tilted his head, studying him. "What weighs on you, boy?"
Mathew hesitated, then began to speak. He told Grius everything—about the message from his mother, his mysterious heritage, and the encounter with Lysander. He spoke of the war he felt brewing within himself and the questions that seemed to have no answers.
Grius listened silently, his expression thoughtful. When Mathew finally finished, Grius took a long drink from his mug.
"You carry a heavy burden," he said finally. "But burdens like yours often come with purpose. If you're willing, I might be able to help unravel some of the mysteries."
Before Mathew could respond, two young women appeared, their faces alight with mischief.
"You've been sitting long enough!" one of them declared, grabbing his arm.
"Time to join the fun!" the other added, pulling at his other arm.
Mathew barely had time to protest as they dragged him toward the bonfire. His body, though still healing, moved instinctively to the music. It was as if the rhythm had taken hold of him, guiding his steps.
The crowd cheered as he joined the dance, his movements hesitant at first but quickly growing more confident. He laughed—a sound he barely recognized as his own.
And then, as if by fate, he found himself face-to-face with Valyn.
She smiled at him, her expression a mixture of surprise and delight. Without thinking, Mathew extended his hand toward her. She hesitated only a moment before taking it, her fingers warm against his.
The world seemed to fade away as they danced together. Her movements were fluid and effortless, and he found himself matching her rhythm as if they had been dancing together their whole lives.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. There was a heat in her gaze, a longing that mirrored his own.
The music slowed, and as it did, Mathew touched his forehead to hers, his voice low and filled with wonder. "You're incredible."
Her laugh was soft, her fingers brushing his cheek. "And you're full of surprises."
She laughed softly, the sound like a melody all its own. "Come on," she said, taking his hand. "There's something I want to show you."
She led him away from the bonfire, up a small hill crowned by a massive oak tree. Beneath its sprawling branches lay a single headstone.
"Selma," Valyn said, her voice quiet. "My mother."
She knelt, pouring a small bottle of ale over the grave and placing a flower atop it. For a long moment, she was silent, her shoulders tense.
Mathew stood beside her, unsure of what to say. Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"She would have liked you," Valyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mathew knelt beside her, his hand finding hers. "Thank you," he said softly.
She looked at him then, her gaze filled with a mixture of pain and something new—hope.
Valyn stepped forwayd placing a hand on Mathew's chest. As the distance between them seemed to vanish. Her breath was warm against his skin, her lips so close that he could feel their softness before they even touched.
When they kissed, it was as if the world stopped.
Her lips were soft yet firm, her taste a mixture of sweetness and spice. The kiss deepened, their mouths moving together in a rhythm as natural as breathing. Mathew's hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while her fingers tangled in his hair.
Her tail wrapped around his leg, the sensation startling but oddly intimate. Her body pressed against his, her warmth seeping into him. He felt her shiver as his hands slid up her back, his touch eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.
The kiss grew more intense, their movements more urgent. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her nails grazing his skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. His heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless. Valyn's cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and glistening. She looked at him with a mixture of shyness and desire, her canines catching the moonlight as she grinned.
Mathew could only manage one word. "Wow."
Together, they sat beneath the oak tree talking about things that didn't concern anyone by themselves, the world around them fading into the night.