The ash was too still.

  Astrid woke to the taste of dust in her mouth and the crawling feeling that something wasn’t right.

  She sat up slowly, heart pounding.

  Kurai was already on his feet — standing at the edge of their camp, coat whipping in the dry wind.

  His tail lashed once, low and tight — like he was trying to hold himself in place.

  ---

  “Something’s coming,” he said, without turning.

  Astrid shoved off her blanket and scrambled up.

  “Okay, what’s the plan?”

  “That’s easy — fight,” he said with a smirk.

  She looked around for a weapon, anything useful. Her stomach twisted.

  Useless.

  ---

  The world held its breath.

  And then — the ash exploded.

  A shape tore through the haze — low, fast, more smoke than flesh.

  The Spellhound.

  This little bastard again.

  Kurai shoved Astrid behind a cracked slab of stone.

  "Stay back," he barked. "Let me handle it."

  ---

  He stepped forward, hands clenched, jaw tight.

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  The Spellhound circled low, claws whispering through the ash.

  Its eyes burned like coals. Locked on Kurai.

  Astrid flattened against the rock, heart hammering.

  She hated this. Hated feeling powerless.

  But she wasn’t. Not really.

  Her mind raced.

  Loose stones. Cracked terrain. That thing was fast, but maybe not fast enough.

  She grabbed a rock. Something. Anything.

  ---

  Kurai stood firm — sparks flickering at his fingertips, magic held tight beneath his skin.

  The Spellhound lunged —

  He threw a blast of fire, knocking it back, cracking the glass beneath him.

  But it recovered.

  Fast. Too fast.

  Astrid’s stomach twisted.

  He’s holding back.

  She gritted her teeth.

  If he won’t finish it — I will distract it.

  She flanked low across the broken ground, ducking between stone fragments.

  Saw her chance.

  She flung a rock with everything she had.

  It hit the Spellhound in the side. A crack — not pain, but distraction.

  "Come on, Kurai!" she yelled. "Kick its ass!"

  The creature turned toward her, snarling.

  "Astrid, get back!" Kurai shouted. Panic in his voice.

  "Maybe try giving it your all!" she yelled back, grabbing another stone.

  ---

  The Spellhound coiled to spring.

  The sparks at Kurai’s hands flared again — bright, dangerous.

  But he hesitated.

  She saw it.

  The fear. The doubt.

  He wasn’t just holding back from the Spellhound — he was holding back from *himself*.

  ---

  Then — the air changed.

  The world shifted.

  Astrid felt it before she saw it —

  a heavy pressure that made the ground tremble beneath her.

  Heat bloomed like a heartbeat.

  Kurai’s shoulders squared.

  And this time...

  he chose.

  "If I burn, I burn," he thought. But not her.

  He stepped forward — and let the fire rise.

  ---

  The blast hit like a thunderclap.

  A wave of raw heat shattered the stillness — ash igniting midair.

  The Spellhound yelped — an awful, twisted sound — as the flames hit it square.

  It staggered.

  Snarled.

  Then fled — slinking into the ash, vanishing like smoke.

  ---

  Silence rushed in.

  Astrid slumped against the stone, breath ragged, shoulder burning.

  Something sharp had lodged in her arm. Obsidian, probably.

  She barely noticed.

  Her eyes were on Kurai.

  He stood in the center of the hollow, chest rising and falling, the fire slowly fading from his skin.

  Still breathing.

  Still himself.

  ---

  She stumbled toward him, blood trickling down her arm.

  Kurai turned at the sound — his eyes wild, frantic — and when he saw her injury, his whole face collapsed.

  "Astrid—"

  His voice cracked.

  She grabbed his wrist, holding it tight.

  "You did it," she said, voice hoarse from ash and smoke.

  "That was badass."

  She tried to laugh, a real one. "I'd like to take some credit. Not just good looks over here."

  Kurai didn’t smile.

  His gaze flicked to her shoulder — the blood soaking through the fabric.

  She saw it happen — the guilt slamming into him like a second wave.

  He started to pull back.

  She didn’t let him.

  "Hey," she said. "Look at me."

  He didn’t.

  She stepped closer and gently cupped his face.

  His eyes met hers — afraid.

  Afraid not of what he’d done —

  but of what she’d think.

  What if this was the moment she flinched?

  Turned away?

  She didn’t.

  "You did it, Kurai," she said again. Steady. Clear.

  "No one got hurt, well kind of but still. You didn’t lose yourself. You chose."

  The fight in him flickered — and faded.

  He sagged slightly, the adrenaline crashing down.

  The ash drifted quietly around them again.

  The hound was gone.

  But something bigger had changed.

  Not in the land.

  In him.

  And in how she saw him.

  They weren’t just surviving anymore.

  They were becoming.