Control The Uncontrollable // The Acolyte

100. A Force Connection

5 Years later.

You ran—so fast your breath tore through your chest in ragged bursts, so fast the world dissolved into streaks of green and gold around you. Bare feet struck sharp stone and wet grass, skin stinging with every step, but pain had no meaning now. Wind clawed at your hair, at your clothes, at your pulse, as you tore across the fields like something hunted, like something chasing time itself. Your heart thundered violently, each beat a countdown, each second stretching thin and fragile. The salt of the sea filled the air ahead, heavy and inevitable, its distant roar pulling you forward with merciless gravity. You didn't slow. You couldn't. Because something had shifted.

You reached the rocks at the water's edge and leapt down, barely breaking stride. Stone scraped beneath your feet as you landed, balance shifting instinctively, your body catching itself before gravity could claim you. The roar of the ocean swallowed everything, wind and surf and breath tangling into a single rushing sound as you raced the final stretch. Sand finally gave beneath your feet—

—and suddenly, a hand closed around yours.

The world tilted.

You barely had time to gasp before you were both tumbling, laughter and surprise colliding as you rolled down into the soft sand together, limbs tangled, momentum carrying you in a clumsy spiral until you came to a breathless stop.

"Caught you!" Qimir grinned, hovering over you, his face alight with triumph and boyish mischief. His hands came instantly to your sides, steadying you, holding you close as your pulse slowly caught up to itself.

You laughed, chest still heaving. "You were just lucky."

"I did well," he corrected teasingly, clearly fishing for praise, his eyes gleaming as he studied your flushed face.

You rolled your eyes and lightly kicked at his foot. "I'm barefoot in a tunic, you've got shoes on," you pointed out, fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand beneath you. "That hardly seems fair."

Qimir's smirk deepened. "Oh, really?" he murmured, voice dipping lower as he shifted, settling his knees into the sand between yours. His fingertips brushed lightly along your bare thighs as he leaned closer, eyes sparkling with mock seriousness. "Then I suppose I should study these remarkable feet of yours."

Before you could protest, he gently lifted your leg, supporting it beneath the knee, stretching it out as if inspecting something precious. His touch was playful yet deliberate—warm calloused palms cradling your skin, the faint heat of his fingers sending a slow shiver racing up your calf. Sand still clung in fine grains to your ankle, cool against the sudden flush rising under his thumbs as he traced the arch of your foot with feather-light pressure, then smoothed it away in one lingering stroke. The salt air mixed with the clean, sun-warmed scent of him—sea and skin and something darker, familiar—making every brush feel electric, intimate.

"Mmm," he hummed thoughtfully, voice a low rumble that vibrated straight through the sole of your foot and up your leg. "Strong. Swift. Dangerous."

You snorted, laughter spilling free even as your breath hitched, trying to tug your leg back. "You're ridiculous."