Elara had felt strange since morning.
It started as a dull ache behind her eyes. Then a burning sensation in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy, like she was fighting off a fever—but she knew she wasn’t sick.
She pressed her fingers to the seal beneath her collarbone. It pulsed faintly. Not in warning. Not in pain. Just… present. Like something was echoing through her.
She stood, took a slow breath, and tried to shake it off. But the feeling lingered.
Then she remembered.
“Sometimes I feel it when you’re in danger,” Lucas had once said.
Her breath caught.
What if it’s not me? What if it’s him?
She hadn’t seen Lucas all day. He rarely came to the admin floor, and today felt quieter than usual. She picked up her phone and called Riven.
“Is Lucas okay?”
Riven paused.
“Why?”
“I just… I feel something. The seal’s acting strange.”
Another pause. Then a quiet sigh.
“He’s not well. Fever, probably. But you know him—he won’t admit it.”
Elara didn’t wait.
She arrived at Lucas’s office, knocked once, then stepped inside.
He was seated at his desk, pale and visibly drained. His posture was rigid, but his eyes gave him away—glassy, unfocused, tired.
He looked up, surprised.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You should be home.”
Lucas didn’t respond.
She walked over, placed a hand on his forehead. He didn’t flinch.
“You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She helped him gather his things, ignoring his weak protests. Riven had already arranged for the car. Elara slid into the seat beside Lucas, arms crossed, heart pounding—not from nerves, but from the seal’s quiet hum.
Lucas’s place was quiet. Minimalist. Cold.
The kind of silence that made every sound feel louder.
Riven helped Lucas settle onto the couch, placing a folded blanket over his legs with quiet precision. He handed Elara a small bag—Lucas’s essentials, hastily packed.
“I’ll take care of the rest,” he said, already turning toward the door.
Elara blinked.
“Wait—you’re leaving?”
Riven paused, one brow raised.
“There are things I need to finish back at the office. A few urgent reports. Some client follow-ups. And I think the finance team’s panicking over a missing signature.”
Elara frowned.
“Can’t someone else handle that?”
Riven gave a slow, deliberate shrug.
“Technically, yes. But I’m the only one who knows how Lucas likes his numbers formatted. And if I don’t check in, they’ll probably send a courier to his house with a spreadsheet and a panic attack.”
She gestured to herself, voice rising slightly.
“So I’m the one staying?”
Riven’s smile was subtle. Too subtle.
“You noticed he was sick before anyone else. That seal of yours seems to know things. I trust you’ll manage.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Riven was already halfway to the door.
“Just call if he starts glowing or levitating,” he added dryly.
And then he was gone.
Leaving her alone.
With Lucas.
Who was now watching her from the couch, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable.
Elara stood frozen for a moment, then muttered under her breath:
“Urgent reports, my foot…”
She moved quietly, fetching water, dampening a cloth, and pressing it gently to his forehead. He didn’t flinch.
“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured.
“I know,” she replied softly.
She adjusted the blinds, dimmed the lights, and set his phone to silent. The seal pulsed again—stronger now, like it was responding to something deeper than illness.
Lucas shifted slightly, trying to sit up.
“You should go. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not fine. Just rest.”
She reached for the glass on the side table, but her foot caught the edge of the rug.
She stumbled.
Lucas moved—instinctive, quick despite the fever—to catch her.
And then—
Their lips met.
Not planned.
Not dramatic.
Just a slip.
An accident.
But the seal responded instantly.
A pulse.
A flare.
A wave of warmth surged through Lucas’s body, like heat drawn from Elara’s touch. His breathing steadied. The flush in his cheeks faded. The fever… eased.
Not gone.
But softened.
They froze.
Their lips still pressed together.
Neither moved.
The seal pulsed again—gentler this time—then quieted.
Elara’s eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
She could feel the heat of his skin, the faint tremble in his fingers still curled around her arm.
She pulled back slowly, as if afraid the moment might shatter if she moved too fast.
Lucas didn’t speak.
He just stared.
First at her eyes.
Then at her lips.
His gaze lingered—not with confusion, but with something quieter.
Something searching.
Elara’s heart thudded wildly, loud enough she was sure he could hear it.
Her cheeks flushed, her fingers trembling slightly as she stepped back.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
Lucas didn’t answer.
But the silence between them was louder than any words.
It hung in the air—thick, charged, fragile.
And in that silence, Elara felt the seal settle.
Not dormant.
Just… waiting.