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7th of Mannan, 128 Era of the Tree

A Rose at Twilight

by Gael

Dusk settled over Keralon like a sigh, the city’s silver walls catching the last glimmers of sunlight and gleaming like scattered gems. The scent of woodsmoke and roasted chestnuts curled lazily through the winding lanes as lanterns kindled to life, their amber glow dancing across polished stone. Somewhere deeper in the city, a minstrel played a lilting tune, the melody braided gently with the slow toll of distant bells. Both half-lost in the hush of twilight.
 
Gael walked beside Dynia, a delicate silence strung between them as they left the bustle of the market behind. His left hand remained tucked beneath his cloak, thumb brushing anxiously over the charm hidden there. A rose, hand-carved from juniper wood, with a small ruby set at its heart, no larger than a tear. It hung from a soft leather cord.
 
Their shoulders brushed now and then, just barely. And each time, Gael’s heart fluttered like wings in his chest.
 
Every few steps, when he thought she wouldn’t notice, he dared a glance. At the way her dark hair shimmered under lanternlight. At the slight crease between her brows when she drifted into thought. At the curve of her smile as she leaned toward a shop window, starlight caught in her expression.
 
Then, braver than he expected of himself, he looked again. Fully this time.
 
And she turned.
 
Her gaze met his, slow and certain, as though she’d been waiting for it.
 
The city melted into a blur. All that remained was her quiet gaze, steady and luminous. Peeling back every defence he hadn’t known he still held.
 
Heat crept across his face and he looked away, ears burning. But from the corner of his eye, he caught it. A faint hint of a smile across her face.
 
They reached a quiet overlook above a lantern-lit square. The night had deepened, and Ava hung high, pale and watching. It struck him how absurd this was. He’d outmanoeuvred Cornu the Hunter, faced down beasts in the Lorewood twice his size and stared into the eyes of dragons. Yet here and now, his heart stammered like a young fawn taking its first steps.
 
“I… I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes to this,” he said at last. His eyes fixed on a stray cat winding through the lanternlight below. “To spending time like this. With me.”
 
Dynia tilted her head, smile gentle as starlight. “I wanted to,” she said softly, brushing a stray lock behind her ear. “I’ve wanted to for some time now.”
 
Something inside of him loosened. Tension, fear, everything that had been holding him back.
 
He turned to her. And if the entire city had crumbled beneath their feet at that moment, he still wouldn’t have looked away.
 
From the folds of his cloak, he drew the charm. His fingers lingered on the petals for a breath. Then he stepped closer to her and opened his palm.
 
“I, um… I made this,” he said. “For you.”
 
She looked first at the charm, then at him. Something in her expression shifted. Not surprise, not hesitation, but the soft light of realization. As if she was hearing the words to a song she’d already been humming for the first time.
 
Her hand moved slowly, fingers brushing against his as she took the rose from his hand. Gently, she turned it, tracing the edges with the tip of her finger.
 
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
 
“I wasn’t sure…” Gael murmured. “If I should.”
 
Dynia pressed the charm lightly to her chest, her eyes glinting beneath the night’s sky. “I’m glad you did,” she said. “I’ve… I’ve wanted to say something too. But I kept waiting, for the right time. Or enough courage.”
 
Their eyes met again, steadier now. No bold declarations. No rushing.
 
Just that quiet, blooming pause where something real had taken root.
 
Then, without thinking, Dynia reached out. Her fingers brushed his hand.
 
He turned his palm to meet hers.
 
Neither of them letting go.

Continue reading...

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