"A Flame that Fades"

Chapter 32: The Warmth Between Us ❗

WARNING: This chapter contains sensitive topics, including mentions of sexual assault, accidental drugging, and sexual content. (Chapter 33 will include the offical sex scene)

If any of these topics may be triggering, please skip this chapter. For those curious to read regardless, you may want to skip the second paragraph, which references sexual assault.

Note: Although the characters have consumed the tea, it only heightens their arousal—they remain fully aware, in control, and all sexual activity is consensual.

Age disclaimer: All characters engaging in sexual activity are over 18 
(Azgar is 24 and Freya is 21).

* 1 week later *

Freya's POV

We sat around the fire, its flames warm and casting golden shadows across the sand. It felt peaceful—unnervingly peaceful—compared to everything that had happened.

Azgar and I had been here for two days, yet we hadn't really talked about what mattered. Not heart to heart.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and glanced at him. He smiled awkwardly at something T'Shaw had said.

T'Shaw was the man Zoron had told us about—tall, covered in tattoos winding from his neck down to his palms. Though he couldn't have been much older than thirty, he looked as if he had lived several lifetimes already. His salt-and-pepper hair was braided neatly, swaying as he moved.

He leaned close to his pregnant wife, whispering something that earned a playful slap to the chest and a giggle from her.

As if on cue, Azgar's hand found mine, lifting it to his lips. It felt almost competitive, as though T'Shaw's affection challenged him to show his own, to prove something.

Then my chair scraped suddenly through the sand. Azgar, with a single hand, pulled me closer until our seats bumped together with a dull clink. The sand here was thick and wet; the ease with which he dragged the chair impressed me.

"Missed me?" I teased, turning my head toward him.

"You were too far," he muttered, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing my temple. "But yes. I did."

"Aww." I smiled, leaning into his chest. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of mint and cedarwood. The sea breeze bit at my face, but his body shielded me from it.

For a while, I just sat there, eyes half-closed, breathing him in. But something was off. He was quieter than usual.

"What's on your mind?" I asked softly.

"It's...not a conversation to have out here," he said after a pause, voice low and careful.

My heart kicked in my chest. That tone—serious, uncertain—filled me with unease. Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt him?

I sat there, marinating in quiet panic as the fire burned low and the others eventually drifted off to their quarters. Azgar and I followed in silence.

***

In our room, I sat on the bed, picking at my cuticles until they bled. The memory of his expression—serious and unreadable—gnawed at me.

When Azgar came out of the bath, towel slung low around his hips, he looked exhausted. He sat down beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. The silence between us stretched long and heavy.

Finally, he sighed—a deep, weary sigh that felt like it carried the whole world.

"Fay," he whispered, softer now than before. His hand, still slightly damp, reached for mine.