Chapter 28: Chapter 28 - What The Fire Left
Eira stirred, the faint scent of salt and sun drifting through the skylight overhead. The ceiling, a pane of pristine glass, framed the morning sky in perfect clarity. Sunlight poured into the room, warm and golden, pooling across the dark wooden walls and the unassuming furniture.
The bed she lay in dominated the center of the room, its dark linens soft beneath her fingertips. But as her hand slid to the side, her stomach twisted.
The sheets beside her were cold.
Her chest tightened as she turned her head, finding the other side of the bed perfectly still, untouched. The memory of the night before surged back in vivid fragments—Caius's hands, his lips, the intensity of their bond flaring between them like a living thing. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, and her pulse quickened as she recalled the way his golden eyes had softened, just for her.
But now, he was gone.
Eira sat up slowly, the linen sheets slipping from her shoulders. The morning light kissed the edges of her tangled hair, glinting off the delicate robe she had draped over a nearby chair. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room—her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and her hair tumbled down her back in disarray.
Evidence of last night, of him.
Eira pressed her hands against her face, trying to steel herself against the tide of confusion and vulnerability threatening to pull her under. Had she misread him? Had she imagined the way his touch had lingered, the rare softness in his voice?
The distant sound of waves crashing against the shore was her only answer.
She stood, the silky robe slipping over her shoulders as she tied it tightly around her waist. The room, intimate and bathed in sunlight, only served to highlight the absence of the man who had been there hours before.
Eira glanced at the bed one more time before leaving. The sheets remained perfectly undisturbed, a stark reminder of the hollow space Caius had left behind.
The hallway was quiet, almost eerily so, as Eira stepped out of the room. Barefoot, she padded across the polished wooden floors, the sound of her steps swallowed by the vastness of the space. The corridor opened into an airy living area, where shelves lined the walls, and sunlight filtered through large, open windows overlooking the sea.
But Caius was nowhere to be found.
Eira's gaze darted to the door leading outside. A breeze stirred the light curtains, carrying the faint scent of saltwater. The sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore grew louder as she moved closer, a constant rhythm that only amplified the strange ache settling in her chest.
The first person she encountered was a staff member—a young man dressed in simple, muted clothing, his posture stiff as he arranged a tray of fresh fruit on a low table. He didn't look up when she approached.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Where's Caius?"
The man froze, his hands hovering over the tray. For a moment, she thought he might answer, but instead, he gave a quick, awkward bow and turned away, disappearing into a side room.
Eira stared after him, her frustration mounting. She wandered further, the island's vastness only making her feel more out of place.
The main door led her outside, where a stone path wound through a sprawling garden filled with wildflowers and low shrubs. The salty air was heavier here, the sun beating down as she followed the trail. She passed an overturned chair near the shore, its legs unevenly sunk into the sand, and an untouched glass of wine resting precariously on the arm of a nearby bench.
Signs of him were everywhere—just not him.
Her fingers clenched at her sides as she looked out at the horizon, the waves glinting under the mid-morning sun. The openness of the landscape was supposed to be freeing, she thought bitterly, but instead, it felt suffocating.
"Why are you hiding?" she whispered, her words carried away by the sea breeze.
Eira wandered aimlessly, her steps carrying her toward a shaded grove where trees bent over a natural pathway. The cool, filtered light beneath the canopy provided some relief from the sun, but the sense of unease in her chest remained sharp.
She paused when she reached the cliffs overlooking the sea. The wind tugged at her robe, teasing loose strands of hair as she scanned the horizon. It was quiet except for the relentless rhythm of the waves below. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted movement.
Caius.
He was farther down the cliffside, his silhouette stark against the brightness of the sky. He stood on a lower ledge, his posture rigid, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark trousers while the other loosely held a discarded jacket over his shoulder.
Eira's breath caught. Even from this distance, there was something off about his stance—less like the commanding figure she was used to and more… burdened.
Her instincts screamed to call out to him, but she hesitated. There was an unapproachable quality about him, as if he were deliberately drawing a line she couldn't cross.
Instead, she stood still, watching as he tilted his head slightly, gazing out over the endless expanse of water. The sunlight caught the sharp angles of his face, and for a moment, she thought he might turn and see her.
He didn't.
Caius shifted suddenly, throwing the jacket onto the rocky ground beside him before beginning to pace in a slow, deliberate line. His movements were taut, controlled, but she could feel the tension radiating off him even from where she stood.
Eira took a step back, her heel skimming the loose gravel of the path. The sound seemed deafening in the stillness, and her heart clenched when Caius paused mid-step.
But he didn't look up.
Without warning, he turned and strode toward the far edge of the ledge, disappearing from view as though retreating even further into himself.
The ache in her chest sharpened. Whatever had passed between them the night before—whatever vulnerability he had allowed her to see—was now locked away, buried behind walls so thick she couldn't even begin to breach them.
Eira clenched her fists and turned away, forcing herself to leave the cliffs behind. If Caius thought she would simply accept this, he was wrong.
Eira found herself drifting back toward the house, her steps slowing as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen. The air inside was cooler, the faint hum of the sea muffled by the thick wooden walls.
It wasn't until she reached the wide, unadorned table in the center of the room that she stopped.
Sitting there, neatly arranged as though waiting for her, was a collection of art supplies. A stack of smooth, untouched sketchbooks rested beside a set of pencils and charcoal sticks. Their pristine condition made them seem out of place amidst the rustic simplicity of the house.
She brushed her fingers over the cover of the top sketchbook, her throat tightening. The crisp edges and unbroken spine told her they had never been used. Caius had put them here—there was no doubt about that. The thought made her chest ache with a mix of anger and something uncomfortably close to longing.
So this was his way of retreating. Offering her this outlet while ensuring she didn't get too close to him. It was deliberate, calculated—and deeply frustrating.
Eira snatched up the top sketchbook and a pencil, her movements sharp. She carried them to the living area, where the sunlight spilled in through the large windows, creating patterns of light and shadow across the floor. She settled on a low couch, pulling her legs up beneath her as she flipped open the first page.
The blank space stared back at her, taunting her with its emptiness.
Her grip tightened on the pencil. At first, her hand hovered uncertainly, as if she didn't know where to begin. But then the frustration bubbling beneath the surface broke free, and her hand moved of its own accord.
Lines emerged quickly, jagged and raw. She didn't pause to think, letting her emotions spill onto the page in harsh strokes. The image began to take shape—Caius's face, angular and severe, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
Her hand moved faster, the strokes growing darker and more defined as she sketched the set of his jaw, the tension in his brow. She captured him as she had seen him on the cliffs, distant and guarded, exuding a strength that felt like a wall between them.
But as she worked, the image softened. Without realizing it, she added a shadow of something else—something almost vulnerable in the way his lips pressed together, as though holding back words he couldn't say.
Eira sat back after what felt like hours, her chest heaving slightly. She stared down at the finished sketch, her fingers smudged with charcoal. It was Caius, exactly as he was—a contradiction of power and restraint, dominance and fragility.
And she hated that she had captured it so perfectly.
Her shoulders sagged as she closed the sketchbook and set it aside. The anger had ebbed, leaving only a hollow ache in its place. She leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes as the sunlight warmed her skin.
But even then, the image of him remained etched in her mind, just as indelible as the lines on the page.
The afternoon sun hung lower in the sky by the time Eira left the house again. The heat of the day had softened, leaving a gentle warmth in the air as she wandered back toward the cliffs. Her sketchbook lay abandoned on the table, the image of Caius staring back at her every time she glanced at it. She had to leave it behind, if only to keep her thoughts from spiraling further.
As she approached the cliffs, her steps slowed. He was there again.
This time, Caius was standing closer to the edge, his posture rigid as he stared out at the horizon. The jacket he'd discarded earlier was still draped across a boulder, but his shirt sleeves were rolled up now, revealing the tense lines of his forearms.
Eira hesitated, her breath catching at the sight of him. Something about his stillness felt heavy, almost dangerous, like the calm before a storm.
She thought about retreating, about giving him the space he so clearly wanted. But then she remembered the art supplies on the table, neatly arranged as though in preparation for his own withdrawal. It was infuriating—his ability to offer her something meaningful while simultaneously building a wall between them.
Her fingers curled into fists.
"No," she murmured under her breath. Not this time.
She took a deliberate step forward, her heels grinding into the gravel path as she approached. He didn't move, but she knew he'd heard her. His posture shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of awareness in the way his head tilted just enough to acknowledge her presence.
The wind tugged at her hair, carrying the scent of the ocean as she came to a stop a few feet away.
"You can't just disappear like that," she said, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her chest.
Caius didn't respond. He remained still, his gaze fixed on the horizon as though it held answers neither of them could reach.
"I thought we were past this," Eira continued, the words spilling out before she could stop them. "Last night—" She faltered, the memory of their closeness still raw. "You let me see you, Caius. And now you're acting like it didn't happen."
He turned slowly, his golden eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"It's not that simple," he said, his voice low and deliberate.
"Then make it simple," she snapped, stepping closer. "Because I don't understand. You keep pulling me closer, only to push me away the moment I think—" She stopped, her throat tightening.
Caius's gaze flickered, his jaw clenching. He took a step back, his hands slipping into his pockets.
"You deserve better than this," he said finally, his tone unreadable.
Eira's frustration boiled over. "Don't do that," she said, her voice sharp. "Don't tell me what I deserve while you stand there and shut me out. I didn't ask for this, Caius, but it's mine now, just like it's yours."
The wind whipped between them, carrying the weight of her words into the silence. Caius didn't move, but the look in his eyes shifted, as though her defiance had struck something deep within him.
"You think it's that easy?" he said softly, his voice laced with something dark and raw. "That I can treat you the way you deserve without looking weak in their eyes? Without them seeing you as a leash around my neck?"
Eira stared at him, the force of his admission hitting her like a wave. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.
The tension between them was electric, the unspoken conflict coiled tight. She took a step closer, her gaze never leaving his.
"I don't care what they see," she said, her voice steady. "I care about what you do."
Caius's head tilted slightly, his golden eyes narrowing. The sharp line of his jaw tensed as though weighing her words, the struggle within him laid bare in the subtle shift of his expression.
Without warning, he stepped closer, the space between them vanishing in an instant. The sudden proximity made her breath hitch, but she didn't move, didn't flinch.
"You care what I do?" he said, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Then understand this, Eira—I will not let them take you from me. Not now. Not ever."
Her pulse quickened as his words hung in the air, heavy with promise and warning alike. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Caius reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek.
His touch was light, fleeting, and yet it sent a jolt through her, the bond between them thrumming to life. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw as his gaze locked on hers, fierce and unyielding.
"They'll see what I want them to see," he said, his tone softer now, almost tender. "But here, on this island—away from them, from their rules—this is who I am. And you… you are the only one who gets to see it."
Eira's breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest as his hand fell away. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but instead, he turned, walking back toward the cliffs.
She watched him go, the words he'd spoken burning into her mind. There was no apology in what he'd said—no regret, only conviction.
And yet, for the first time, she felt as though she had glimpsed the man behind the mask—the one he had shown her last night, and the one he was still too afraid to let fully emerge.
Eira stayed rooted to the spot, the waves crashing far below her as she stared after him. Her jaw tightened as resolve hardened within her chest.
He could run, retreat, and guard himself all he wanted. But she wouldn't let him shut her out.
Not again.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
JadedButCute
JadedButCute So, Eira and Caius finally had their moment, huh? (Cue the dramatic music and fire emojis!) But let’s be real—leave it to these two to turn a post-passion morning into a total emotional rollercoaster. Eira’s out here trying to process what last night meant, and Caius? Oh, he’s brooding on a cliff, because of course he is. Classic Caius.
But honestly, this chapter was so fun to write because it’s not just about the aftermath of their first night together—it’s about how they deal with it. Eira’s frustration is so relatable (raise your hand if you’ve ever been annoyed at someone for being emotionally unavailable after major life moments), and Caius… well, he’s giving “I-have-feelings-but-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-them” energy in bulk. Also, that sketchbook scene? *looks left, looks right* I kind of liked it.. lol I’d love to hear your thoughts—are you rooting for these two, or are you as ready as Eira to shake some sense into Caius? Let me know in the comments!
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