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History was being written at Hidden Ember as the first Oseram flight rose into the sky. Aloy had agreed to join Morlund for the test run of his Amazing Elevating Orb. Though the wooden pilot compartment creaked and wobbled under her feet, the contraption steadied as they reached the top of the tether. Below, the tall pagoda tower where the Oseram showmen made camp disappeared from view. The desert stretched out beneath them, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun.
The wind ruffled Aloy's red hair as the Embers around camp shimmered in the distance. It could have been peaceful, even serene—if it weren’t for Morlund’s constant stream of chatter.
“The Stillsands look like a canvas from up here, don’t they? Imagine the shows we could put on with a view like this!” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.
Aloy nodded, gripping the wooden railing as she watched the horizon. “I’m glad you made good use of the burner,” she replied, trying to hint for some quiet. “It’s surprisingly peaceful up here.”
“Yeah,” Morlund agreed, pausing for a moment.
The desert below stretched on, the sun setting the sands alight with sparks of gold. Aloy settled into the silence, but it didn’t last long.
“If Abadund were here,” Morlund chuckled, “he’d be drunker than a wastrel. Crippling fear of heights, that one!” There was no malice in his tone, only warmth.
“Oh?” Aloy replied, unsure if she wanted to encourage him or not.
“He gets poetic when drunk. Evocative rhymes about his ledgers.” Morlund grinned. “It’s actually impressive.”
Aloy mumbled an acknowledgment, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him. It wasn’t.
Morlund leaned on the railing, looking out across the horizon with a fond smile. “Even he couldn’t deny this view. Maybe one day, I’ll drag him up here. Bet he’d change his mind after seeing all this!”
“Especially if it’s quiet,” she muttered, emphasizing the word.
A gust of wind rocked the Orb gently. The tether creaked in response. Morlund sighed contentedly, eyes on the burner’s steady flame. “You know,” he said, his tone softer now, “I’ve never met anyone like Abadund. Sure, he’s always worrying over every shard, always planning and double-checking, but he does it because he cares. Even when I’m going too far, he’s there to keep me grounded.”
Aloy sighed too, this time in exasperation, but Morlund didn’t notice. He continued, oblivious to her impatience. “It’s good to have someone like that. Someone you can rely on, no matter what wild idea you’re chasing.”
There was a tenderness in Morlund’s voice that caught Aloy off guard. She thought back to her interactions with Abadund. The way he budgeted for Morlund’s funeral, insisting on Scrappersap—Brown ale not good enough for Morlund. She remembered how Abadund’s face would light up, just a little, when he talked about Morlund’s shows. And the way he smiled only for Morlund.
It clicked in her mind.
“Do you...” Aloy started, a bit unsure of how to approach the subject. “Do you always talk this much about Abadund?”
Morlund laughed sheepishly. “Do I? Maybe I do. I guess he’s on my mind more than I realized.” He glanced at her, a rare moment of introspection flickering across his face. “He’s important, you know? He’s always there, no matter what.”
Aloy studied him for a moment, seeing the wheels turn in his head. He didn’t realize it, but Abadund’s feelings were clear to her. And maybe Morlund didn’t see it yet, either.
“Morlund,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’ve seen the way Abadund looks at you. He smiles at you.”
Morlund shrugged. “What’s your point? Everyone smiles at me. Even you do!” he grinned.
Aloy rolled her eyes. “In the weeks I’ve known you, Abadund has only smiled at you. He has feelings for you, Morlund.”
Morlund blinked, the words hanging in the air. “Feelings? For me?” His nervous chuckle belied the gears turning in his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, uncharacteristically silent. “I... I never thought about it like that. You’re serious?”
Aloy nodded. “I am. But don’t take it from me. Ask him.”
Morlund stared at her for a moment, processing. “Ask him? Just like that?” He rubbed his chin, clearly unsure but intrigued. “I suppose… if you’re right…” His words trailed off as he considered the idea.
Suddenly, the Orb rocked violently, and the wind howled. The clear skies darkened with swirling clouds. “What was that?” Aloy asked, instantly alert.
Morlund’s eyes flicked to the tether. “Ah, just a little turbulence!” he laughed nervously. “We’ll be fine!”
A loud crack followed by a low whistle sounded from below. They both leaned over the railing.
“What was that?” Aloy demanded.
Morlund gulped. “That… was the tether snapping.” They were no longer anchored to the ground.
“Morlund!” Aloy shouted, her voice rising over the storm.
“I can fix this!” he said, though his hands gripped the railings tightly as the Orb spun in the gusting wind.
Above the chaos, a deafening screech echoed across the skies. Both of them looked up, and there, emerging from the storm, was a Stormbird. And it was heading straight for them.
Abadund paced outside the tower, his boots kicking up sand with each restless step. His heart pounded as he scanned the horizon, where the Orb had flown—or more likely, crashed. He’d rushed out as the winds rose to warn Morlund and Aloy, only to see the tether rope sliding down on its own and hear the screams as the Orb tumbled into the storm. For a moment, he thought it was over—Morlund’s endless optimism, his laughter, his reckless spirit—all gone. Cold dread gripped his heart. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
The tether had snapped hours ago, and the Orb had been flung deep into the desert. The settlement had escaped the Stormbird’s fury, as it seemed more interested in sweeping the skies clear of human interlopers. Stemmur’s calming words hadn’t helped; Abadund didn’t know whether to trust Aloy to bring Morlund back alive or set off into the sands himself. What if they were gravely injured? What if they were—No, he wouldn’t think like that. He couldn’t.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the ground,” Stemmur called from higher up in the tower.
“So would you if—if—" Abadund snapped, stumbling over his words. "Never mind," he grumbled, his fists clenched in frustration. How could Stemmur be so calm? What if they never came back? What if Morlund never came back?
Just when he had started to admit to himself that his feelings for Morlund weren’t going away, as much as he tried to rationalize them. Maybe it was the strange weather of the Forbidden West, so different from the Claim. Or maybe he just admired Morlund’s shows—his kind eyes and that smile brighter than the sun had nothing to do with it, surely. Yet he found himself seeking Morlund’s company more often, using work as an excuse. Jealousy had even flared when Aloy and her wild ideas arrived. Morlund and Aloy got along far too well for Abadund's liking.
He was smitten, though he’d fought it every step of the way. The risk of saying something or doing something was too high. The fear of disrupting their friendship had held him back and had made the words die in his throat. Now, at the possibility of never being able to say anything, the risk seemed insignificant.
“Abadund," Stemmur called again. "You can stop pacing—see there?” He pointed. “No mistaking that red hair. They’re coming back!”
Abadund squinted at the horizon, his chest flooding with relief. It was them! He’d recognize Morlund’s solid figure anywhere. Without another word, he sprinted out to meet them as fast as his legs would carry him. As they closed in, he saw Morlund’s cap missing, his dark hair sticking up wildly. Scratches and bruises marred his face, but all his limbs were intact. Morlund was grinning like a fool, covered in dirt. Aloy wasn’t much better off, down to her last arrow.
“Morlund, are you out of your blasted mind?” Abadund launched into a tirade the second they got close. “Nearly getting yourself killed—again! If it weren’t for Aloy, you’d—”
“Do you like me, Abadund?” Morlund interrupted, smiling brightly.
Abadund’s mouth dropped open. “What—Morlund, I—” He couldn’t form a sentence. Did Morlund suffer a head injury?
Aloy glanced between them, eyes wide with realization. “Uh... I’ll just...” She backed away slowly, heading toward the tower, leaving the two Oseram men behind.
Red-faced and flustered, Abadund opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words. “Morlund, what? Are you—?”
Morlund, still beaming, cupped Abadund’s face and leaned in for a sweet, lingering kiss. Abadund’s breath caught, and his brain seemed to short-circuit. All he could register was the warmth of Morlund's hands, the soft pressure of his lips, and the contented sound he made. “Morlund, wha—?”
Morlund pulled back, still grinning like the sun. “ALOY!” he suddenly shouted, startling Abadund.
Aloy, already a good distance away, turned with an awkward half-smile. “Yeah?”
“I THINK ABADUND LIKES ME!” Morlund hollered, causing heads to turn across Hidden Ember.
Aloy blinked. “Oh yeah?”
“YEAH!” Morlund continued, oblivious to Abadund’s frantic shushing.
“Morlund, stop!”
“I KISSED HIM, AND IT FELT REALLY NICE!”
Aloy raised an awkward thumbs-up, her expression a mix of amusement and confusion. “Uh… okay?”
Mortified, Abadund ran his hands over his face. “Morlund, for the love of the forge, stop shouting!” His head was spinning. Did this mean Morlund liked him too? Now the entire camp knew something Abadund had barely admitted to himself. But as embarrassing as it was, Abadund felt the warmth of Morlund’s kiss lingering, and the thought brought a small smile to his lips.
Morlund, unfazed, started excitedly recounting their adventure with the Stormbird, acting as though nothing had happened. Abadund sighed, but as they walked back toward the tower together, that small smile didn’t leave his face. They’d talk. Privately. And Abadund found that, for the first time, the idea didn’t terrify him.