Chapter Text
The lake lay deep within one of Hiisi Island’s ancient forests, a place where roots swallowed paths and old spirits lingered in the mist. Here, Lauma finishes her meditation, the glow of her spiritual aura fading into the stillness of the lake.
FLINS: “Come night or day, may the moonlight connect us.”
He stands at the edge of the lake, half-veiled by the trees like a shadow. As the sun dips lower, the light catches his face, revealing pearlescent skin, sculpted features, and eyes reflecting the golden colors of the setting sky.
LAUMA: (surprised with a smile) “The prayer… you remembered.”
FLINS: “Of course.” He points to the sky and reminds her “The day is ending. You’ve done enough work.”
LAUMA: (softly) “Kyryll”
Lauma rises from the waters, wading toward the shore. Small creatures gather around her, buzzing with dialogue he could not understand nor interpret. Offering their little worries and requests as collective chattering.
The tall Ratniki waits by the shaded bank, watching the sun disappear behind the horizon as she tends to each creature with care. He waits for the animals to disperse into the groves before chiming in.
FLINS: “You never stop caring for others.”
LAUMA: “It’s part of who I am.”
FLINS: “Then let me be the one you don’t have to tend to.”
He bows slightly and extends a hand.
FLINS: “Come. I want to show you something.”
She takes his hand. Darkness blooms around them as the sun continues to set into the evening. His blue wisps manifest and spill over the lake like ink in water.
FLINS: “Do not fear. I’m here with you, Lauma.”
At first it feels ominous, but the light shifts, arranging itself into graceful arcs that mirror the moonlanes Kuuvahkis crafted.
LAUMA: “Kyryll… is this your power? It looks like Kuutar’s energy.”
FLINS: “Similar but different. I am a child of the moon too, just as you are.”
A low hum fills the air, rising from the water beneath them. He guides her forward, placing one hand at the small of her back, the other still holding hers. His touch is firm but careful, like he’s afraid to break something divine.
Her first step meets the surface of the lake. It holds. She laughs softly, disbelieving.
He draws her closer. The motion is slow, deliberate, every movement measured. His hand holds hers as he leads, his other hand steadying her back, treating her like a precious artifact. The light from his eyes flickers in rhythm with their steps, tracing blue silver arcs around their feet. A waltz beneath the moonlight with her very own fairy prince.
Their bodies move in perfect counterpoint. When she sways, he follows; when he turns, she answers. The world around them seems to listen — the wind sings, the trees hush, even the water yields and flows to their dance.
FLINS: “Come night or day, may the moonlight connect us.”
His voice softens.
FLINS: “I remember every word that leads me to you. Those were your first words to me.”
He spins her gracefully. When she falls back into his arms, his hand steadies the curve of her waist, fingers trembling slightly as he catches her. Their faces linger close — too close. Lauma blushes. She could feel her own passion light up.
The lake shimmers as the sunset fades deep into the eventide, each ripple glowing brighter until the surface itself becomes a mirror. They glide across it like phantoms of two different worlds merging into one.
And then when the moon rises, their reflections meet on the water's surface — a prince of darkness and a princess of light enjoying a quiet blessing for that night.
LAUMA: (breathless) “I am… this is…”
FLINS: “Shh…”
Flins hushes her gently, his expression unreadable, but his hand never lets go. The world feels suspended — a fairy tale moment only Kyryll, the Azure Flame, could give her.
Her step falters near the end of their dance. The lake trembles beneath them, scattering their reflection into ripples. He catches her, and in a heartbeat, she found herself so close to him that she can feel his breath brush her lips.
FLINS: “Lauma…”
He moves instinctively with one arm around her waist, steadying her for another step, the other still clasped in her hold. The gesture is tender, protective. Her fingers tighten over his, unwilling to let go.
They continue to glide on the lake, as if weightless. Their rhythm seamless with the tides made of lightning threads. Together they drift, each turn smooth and measured.
FLINS: “You never have to feel alone in your duties again.”
His voice is quiet, low and steady, but full of ache. She blinks, unsure of what to say but the way he says it makes her chest tighten. He brings her closer, so close, his gaze pierces through her being. Then, in a whisper that sounds almost like a prayer, he professes.
FLINS: “Lauma… I love you.”
Before she can answer, all the light begins to fade. The glowing arcs collapse into sparks, along with the moon are swallowed by the night. Only his eyes remain alight — twin embers against the dark — and a soft glimmer of his lamp on the side. She could feel that something is wrong but he does not move away.
No words follow. She doesn’t need to answer — or perhaps he doesn’t wish to hear it. He does not let her go. Even as the dark engulfed them, he held her still, his warmth steady through this muteness.
They weren’t alone.
She had the feeling that it wasn’t just the lake nor the forest who watched them. Eyes, not just of animals or spirits that roam, spying at them from the darkness beyond. Witnesses to a loving memory that only a fae could give, one which she would never forget.