Elya had never given much thought to desire. There had never been time. Magic had always consumed her, shaping every choice she made, every sacrifice required of her. Survival had been her only priority, and anything beyond that had felt like a luxury too distant to reach for. But Naia was changing that.

  It started subtly, a shift in the air between them. At first, it was easy to dismiss. After all, Naia was a natural flirt, teasing and charming everyone in town with that easy, knowing smile. But Elya wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t used to attention that wasn’t tied to expectation, to duty. Naia, however, never asked for anything. She simply appeared by Elya’s side in the marketplace, at the healer’s station when the day was winding down, or walking beside her as they wandered the town’s quiet streets at night.

  They talked about everything and nothing, about the books Naia had collected on her travels, the stories she had gathered from distant lands, the people she had met. But she also asked about Elya, about her magic, about her life before Alden’s Reach, about who she was beyond her role as a healer. And that, more than anything, unsettled Elya in ways she couldn’t explain.

  The first time it happened, it was almost nothing, a brief touch of fingers as Naia handed her a book she thought Elya might like. The warmth lingered longer than it should have, leaving Elya momentarily breathless, confused by the way her pulse quickened. Then came the stolen glances, Naia watching her with an intensity that made her feel seen in a way she never had been before. And still, Elya did not pull away.

  One evening, as the festival’s remnants still flickered in the town square, they sat side by side on the edge of a low stone wall, watching lanterns float up into the night sky. The air was thick with the scent of sweetened wine and roasted chestnuts, the laughter of distant revelers echoing around them. Naia turned toward her, something unreadable in her gaze.

  “You ever think about yourself?” Naia asked, voice softer than usual. “Not your magic, not the people you heal. Just… you?”

  Elya frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Naia tilted her head, studying her like she was something to be unraveled. “You spend so much time worrying about everyone else, I wonder if you ever stop and think about what you actually want.”

  The words struck something deep in her chest, something she had never dared to consider. Want? What did she want? And why did Naia’s presence make the question feel suddenly urgent?

  The first kiss was a slow thing, hesitant yet inevitable, unfolding between them like a secret finally spoken aloud. It started with a lingering look, Naia’s fingers brushing against Elya’s wrist, her touch feather-light, waiting. When Elya didn’t pull away, Naia leaned in, the warmth of her breath ghosting over Elya’s lips before their mouths met in a quiet, stolen moment.

  It wasn’t fire, wasn’t rushed. It was something softer, deeper, a question rather than an answer. Elya’s eyes fluttered shut as her heart pounded, her hands gripping the stone beneath her as if anchoring herself to something solid. When they finally parted, Naia didn’t step back, didn’t smirk or tease the way Elya half-expected her to. Instead, she searched Elya’s face, waiting.

  Elya exhaled shakily, her fingers flexing where they rested on her lap. She didn’t know what to say, what to do with the feeling that had settled in her chest like a slow-burning ember. But she knew one thing.

  She wanted more.

  Elya had never given much thought to desire. There had never been time. Magic had always consumed her, shaping every choice she made, every sacrifice required of her. Survival had been her only priority, and anything beyond that had felt like a luxury too distant to reach for. But Naia was changing that.

  It started subtly, a shift in the air between them. At first, it was easy to dismiss. After all, Naia was a natural flirt, teasing and charming everyone in town with that easy, knowing smile. But Elya wasn’t like the others. She wasn’t used to attention that wasn’t tied to expectation, to duty. Naia, however, never asked for anything. She simply appeared by Elya’s side in the marketplace, at the healer’s station when the day was winding down, or walking beside her as they wandered the town’s quiet streets at night.

  They talked about everything and nothing, about the books Naia had collected on her travels, the stories she had gathered from distant lands, the people she had met. But she also asked about Elya, about her magic, about her life before Alden’s Reach, about who she was beyond her role as a healer. And that, more than anything, unsettled Elya in ways she couldn’t explain.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The first time it happened, it was almost nothing, a brief touch of fingers as Naia handed her a book she thought Elya might like. The warmth lingered longer than it should have, leaving Elya momentarily breathless, confused by the way her pulse quickened. Then came the stolen glances, Naia watching her with an intensity that made her feel seen in a way she never had been before. And still, Elya did not pull away.

  One evening, as the festival’s remnants still flickered in the town square, they sat side by side on the edge of a low stone wall, watching lanterns float up into the night sky. The air was thick with the scent of sweetened wine and roasted chestnuts, the laughter of distant revelers echoing around them. Naia turned toward her, something unreadable in her gaze.

  “You ever think about yourself?” Naia asked, voice softer than usual. “Not your magic, not the people you heal. Just… you?”

  Elya frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Naia tilted her head, studying her like she was something to be unraveled. “You spend so much time worrying about everyone else, I wonder if you ever stop and think about what you actually want.”

  The words struck something deep in her chest, something she had never dared to consider. Want? What did she want? And why did Naia’s presence make the question feel suddenly urgent?

  The first kiss began as an unspoken invitation, a lingering tension in the space between them. Naia's fingers grazed Elya's wrist again, but this time, there was intention behind the touch, a careful slowness as if feeling for a pulse, for a reaction. Elya's breath caught, her body taut with something new and unfamiliar. Her skin felt too hot, the cool night air unable to chase away the warmth that settled in her chest.

  Naia moved closer, her presence a quiet gravity pulling Elya in. The world around them seemed to soften, the distant music and laughter fading into the background. Elya felt dizzy, not from exhaustion or magic but from the realization that she wanted this, that she had been waiting for this.

  Then, Naia exhaled softly, her breath feather-light against Elya’s lips. The sensation sent a shiver through her, her fingers twitching against the stone wall beneath them. It was Naia who closed the final distance, tilting her head just slightly, her lips brushing against Elya’s in the barest whisper of contact. The hesitation in that moment stretched impossibly long, a heartbeat of uncertainty before Elya responded, tilting forward, meeting her halfway.

  The kiss was delicate, uncertain yet inevitable. Naia's lips were soft, warm, moving with an aching slowness as if savoring every second. Elya’s pulse pounded against her ribs, her body a contradiction of tension and surrender. She felt weightless, untethered, her fingers gripping the stone beneath her only to anchor herself in the moment. A slow warmth spread through her, curling in her stomach, making her dizzy in a way she didn’t understand.

  When they finally pulled apart, the air between them felt charged, heavy with something unsaid. Naia didn’t smirk, didn’t tease the way Elya half-expected. Instead, she held Elya’s gaze, waiting, as if giving her the space to decide what came next.

  It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t rushed. It was something softer, deeper, a question rather than an answer. Elya’s eyes fluttered shut as her heart pounded, her hands gripping the stone beneath her as if anchoring herself to something solid. When they finally parted, Naia didn’t step back, didn’t smirk or tease the way Elya half-expected her to. Instead, she searched Elya’s face, waiting.

  Elya exhaled shakily, her fingers flexing where they rested on her lap. She didn’t know what to say, what to do with the feeling that had settled in her chest like a slow-burning ember. But she knew one thing.

  She wanted more.

  Elya reached out and pulled her in for another kiss. The anticipation curled in her belly, a slow-burning heat that spread from the pit of her stomach, lower, coiling tight with need. Her body tingled with awareness, a pulse of longing radiating outward with every aching second that passed. Her fingers found the back of Naia’s neck, the soft warmth of her skin sending another shiver through her.

  Naia responded instantly, pressing closer, her breath a whisper against Elya’s lips before deepening the kiss. The sensation sent molten heat surging through her veins, pooling low in her abdomen as desire tightened its grip. Her legs felt weak, her body trembling not from exhaustion but from an overwhelming craving she had never experienced before.

  Every brush of their lips ignited another spark, the fire in her core growing with each passing moment. The press of Naia’s body against hers was intoxicating, a new kind of magic she had never encountered but desperately wanted to explore. Her skin was flushed, fevered, aching for more contact, more of Naia’s touch, more of the unspoken promise between them. The need was insatiable, unfamiliar yet utterly consuming, leaving Elya breathless as she deepened the kiss, as if she could pour all of her yearning into this moment and make it last forever.

  Naia looks into Elya's eyes, her own gaze dark with something unreadable, something heady and full of promise. Her breath was still uneven, her lips parted slightly as if she was tasting the moment, savoring the way Elya trembled beneath her touch.

  "I’ve been waiting for you to see this," Naia murmured, her voice low and intimate. "To feel this. To want this."

  Elya's heart stuttered in response, heat coiling in her stomach and spreading outward like ripples in still water. She had never felt so seen, so wanted, and it was intoxicating. Her fingers tightened where they rested against Naia’s waist, grounding herself in the reality of this, of her.

  Naia traced a slow path along Elya’s jaw with her thumb, tilting her face just slightly, just enough that their breaths mingled. "Tell me, Elya… do you want more?"

  Elya swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she admitted, "Yes."