Aarav sets a pace that feels natural to him. Not rushed but not taking his time. Behind him, Seren struggles with the ground in a way that is hard to miss once he notices it. Her steps are careful, almost meticulous, the sort of precision that works against her here. Grass snags at her ankles. Slopes pull her sideways. The uneven earth trips her more than now. She moves like someone used to smooth stone floors and straight corridors, not land that shifts beneath your weight.

  At the crest of a rise, he stops and turns, hand already out before he thinks better of it. “Come on. The slope is not meant to be your enemy.”

  She freezes halfway up. Breath uneven. Cheeks flushed from the effort. Her gaze flicks to his hand, then to his face.

  “No thank you. I am more than capable.”

  He lowers his hand with a quiet mutter. “Of course. My mistake.”

  Stubborn girl.

  There is a fine line between defiance that keeps you alive and defiance that grinds you down. She walks it like it does not exist. He cannot help but respect that, even as it makes everything harder than it needs to be.

  He keeps moving, careful to hold his pace just slow enough that she can follow without it being obvious. No need to make a point of it. No need to bruise her pride further.

  Still, watching her fight the grass and the slope, something tightens in his chest. He cannot decide if it is irritation or something unhelpfully closer to concern.

  “I know you can manage,” he says over his shoulder. “But it would be easier if you just let me help.”

  “I do not need help. You focus on your own footing.”

  Fine.

  Her burden, then. He will not leave her behind. But he will not drag her either.

  Silence settles in again as they walk. Heat shimmers across the low hills, turning the air soft and wavering. A narrow stream runs alongside them for a time, water gurgling over stone, dragonflies skimming its surface in quick flashes of blue. Ahead, two crows burst from a tree, wings beating hard, their calls cracking the quiet before it slips back into place.

  Eventually, Aarav eases his pace enough for her to draw level. She looks worn now, no mistaking it, but she holds herself straight, spine set, refusing to let the fatigue claim more than it already has.

  “I am curious,” he says at last, keeping his tone light. “Why not use magic to help. Just a small burn. Enough to make the walk less of a chore.”

  Her eyes flick toward him, puzzled. She does not answer straight away. When she does, her voice is measured. “It is not worth the cost.”

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  “Even a little.”

  “Even then.”

  He studies her profile as they move, the line of her jaw, the focus in her gaze. There is weight in that answer. Finality. And still she offers nothing more. After a moment, he lifts a brow. “That is it. That is all I get.”

  She exhales softly, almost a sigh. “You should know that magic is not free. To spend it just to make walking easier would be wasteful.”

  “I know there is a cost,” Aarav says, genuinely curious now. “But what is the point of having magic if you never use it?”

  Her gaze slides to him, assessing. “Do they not teach even the basics in Marrow? Fine.”

  When she speaks again, her pace slows, each word chosen with care, like she is addressing a novice who needs things set out plainly.

  “Soul Fire is the essence of a person,” she says. “The flame of life itself. Left alone, it burns at its own rhythm. The body will fail long before the fire goes out. But when you call on it, when you burn it for strength or speed or magic, the flame consumes faster. Use too much, and death is the kindest result.”

  Aarav says nothing.

  “Most people never feel more than a trickle,” she continues. “A warmth at the edges. The quiet force that keeps us alive. That is what mages learn to touch carefully. That balance is everything. But if you keep forcing it, if you keep feeding yourself to the fire, parts of you go with it. Pieces vanish. In the end, there is nothing left but an empty shell.”

  The words hit something old inside him.

  Half remembered lessons. The sort every child hears and almost all forget. He forgot because they never mattered. His Soul Fire was never worth talking about. Too faint. Too thin. A whisper where there should have been flame. A hollow warmth that never once rose higher.

  He remembers the looks when he was younger. Not cruel. Worse than that. Gentle pity. The resigned kind, given to a boy who would never burn bright. Another dim soul. Another shadow meant to pass quietly through the world.

  But now there is fire.

  He feels it under his skin, restless, impatient. Not imagined as he did too many times as a young man. It flickers through his blood, sparks brushing the edges of his awareness, power that simply was not there before. He does not understand it. But it is real. And it is his.

  “I suppose,” he says eventually, careful to sound unconcerned, “it would be wasteful to throw firewood on the hearth just to warm your hands.”

  The faintest curve touches her mouth. Barely there. “Exactly.”

  They reach the crest of another hill and the land opens up. A thin trail threads through the fields ahead, edged with hawthorn and elder, pale blossoms stirring in the breeze. It will take them west. Dunlow lies somewhere beyond the rise, if they keep their pace and their luck.

  Aarav pauses, letting his eyes sweep the horizon. No riders. No dark cloaks cutting the line of the hills. Just open ground, insects humming, heat settling into the bones of the day.

  He draws in a slow breath and closes his eyes.

  Magic is not a game. It has rules. Costs. Consequences that do not care how confident you feel when you break them. If this new strength truly belongs to him, then he needs to understand it before it turns on him. Before it burns him hollow from the inside out.

  Seren walks on ahead, shoulders tight but steady. She is right not to waste her fire. He knows that now. Still, he cannot ignore the hunger pressing at the edges of his chest, the quiet insistence that wants to be answered. He will have to learn how to control it. How to keep it. How to get more from Seren.

  Not every step needs fire.

  Sometimes stubborn feet are enough.