Blade institute: the unseen prophecy

36

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I stirred slowly, the warmth of the blankets and the soft, steady breathing next to me pulling me from sleep. For a moment, I lay there, disoriented, as the events of the previous night drifted back to me.

Rian's arm was draped over my waist, his body curved protectively around mine. The feeling of his warmth, his steady presence, brought a comfort that was both surprising and welcome. I had never imagined that we would end up here, in this strange but oddly peaceful arrangement, but as I lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing, I found that I didn't mind it at all.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, I turned over to face him. His features were relaxed in sleep, his usually intense expression softened by the tranquility of the moment. He looked different like this—vulnerable in a way that was rare for him, but also deeply content. I watched him for a few moments, taking in the rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as if even in sleep, he was at peace.

It was strange, this feeling of contentment that had settled over me. For so long, my life had been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, the weight of the prophecy and the darkness that came with it pressing down on me at every turn. But now, in the quiet of the morning, with Rian beside me, I felt a sense of calm that had eluded me for far too long.

Gently, I reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but even that small gesture was enough to stir him from his sleep. His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, they were unfocused, hazy with sleep. But as they met mine, they sharpened, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

"Morning," I replied, my own smile mirroring his.

For a few moments, we simply lay there, wrapped up in the warmth of the bed and the easy comfort of each other's presence. There were no pressing worries, no heavy thoughts—just the quiet contentment of being together, of knowing that whatever else might come, we had this.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in, and with it, the realization that we couldn't stay in this cocoon of peace forever. There were things to do, responsibilities to face, and a world outside this room that demanded our attention.

Rian seemed to sense the shift in my thoughts, because he sighed softly and shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. "You're thinking too much," he said, his tone teasing but gentle.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. "I can't help it," I admitted. "There's a lot to think about."

He reached out and traced a finger along my jawline, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "Then let's not think about it," he suggested, his voice low and inviting.

I knew what he was offering—a temporary escape, a way to lose ourselves in each other and forget about everything else for just a little while longer. And as tempting as that was, I also knew that we couldn't keep avoiding the reality of our situation. Sooner or later, we would have to face the world outside this room.

But not just yet.

"Maybe just a little longer," I agreed, my voice soft.

Rian's smile widened, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to my lips. The kiss was slow and sweet, a contrast to the intensity of the night before, but no less meaningful. It was a reminder that whatever we had—whatever this was—it was something real, something worth holding onto.