The bonfire spits lazy sparks into the dawn-stained air, smoke curling past frostbitten cheeks. Kaiden stands close enough to the heat that the fire accentuates the angles of his jaw, his dark hair mussed, eyes soft but wary beneath the bruised exhaustion. He tries not to look at Lirae, but his gaze keeps drifting—drawn to the way she wraps her arms across her chest, the cords of muscle shifting under her worn base layer, blonde hair tangled from the night’s chaos, lips bitten raw from unshed confessions.

Maelis lingers at the edge, arms folded, her chef’s coat traded for a charcoal sweater and jeans. She looks taller than usual, shoulders squared, a deep furrow set between her brows. She’s watching Zira, who perches on a log with knees drawn up, fingers worrying the hem of her thermal top. Zira’s face is all restless angles—sharp, beautiful, and openly haunted, a single strand of red hair curling against her cheek, skin pale except for the mottled flush on her neck.

Silence hangs, brittle as the morning air. It’s Lirae who breaks it—voice raspy with old wounds. “We can’t go forward if we keep lying.” She looks at Kaiden, jaw clenched, trying to be brave, even as her fingers tremble against her ribs.

Kaiden’s voice cracks as he speaks. “Zira covered for me. No one else knew, but… the accident? It was my mistake.” His throat works, eyes darting to Zira—a silent apology. “I ruined us. I ruined everything.”

Zira’s lips twitch in a half-smile, pain threaded through humor. “You don’t get all the credit,” she mutters, chin tucked. “I made my choices.” Her voice shakes, but she looks up—direct, unguarded. “I was terrified of losing you both. I lost myself instead.”

Maelis shifts closer. Her hand lingers on Zira’s thigh, the gesture gentle, hesitant. “We’re all carrying something,” Maelis whispers, her voice trembling for the first time. “I’m tired of holding it alone.” She looks at the group, eyes stinging. “I want to be seen. I want to matter.”

Lirae steps toward Kaiden. Their eyes meet—old longing, hollowed by regret, flaring alive. His hands are cold when he cups her cheeks, but his touch is reverent, careful. “I should’ve fought for you,” he breathes, thumb stroking her jaw. “I’m fighting now.”

Lirae’s answer is a tearful laugh as she leans in, closing the gap. Their mouths meet with the urgent tenderness of a promise—the kiss slow, deep, overflowing with apology and hope. She climbs into his lap, hands fisting in his shirt, his arms banding around her waist. Their foreheads press together, breaths mingling in the cold, as if neither dares to move away again.

Behind them, Maelis and Zira retreat into shadow. In the hush, Maelis brushes snow from Zira’s hair, tucking it gently behind her ear. Zira is uncharacteristically still, her usual sharpness gentled by grief. Maelis’s voice catches. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Zira nods, blinking hard, mouth twisting. “I can’t stay. Not after everything.” She takes Maelis’s hand, clutching it tight. “But I’ll remember this. You made me feel… safe.” She presses her lips softly to Maelis’s, slow and aching. Maelis lingers in the kiss, eyes closed, hands trembling. When they break apart, Zira steps back, biting her lip so hard it pales.

As the sun crests the ridge, gold slants across the clearing. Kaiden and Lirae rise, arms laced around each other’s waists, cheeks tear-stained but shining with something fragile and bright. Zira lingers at Maelis’s side for a beat longer, their pinkies entwined, silent promises in the cold.

The four drift to the edge of the overlook, boots crunching in unison, shoulders close but nothing quite touching. Below them, the world gleams with new snow—raw, uncertain, waiting. Kaiden’s hand hovers near Lirae’s. Maelis wipes a tear from her cheek, almost smiling as Zira glances back with wet eyes. Their breath ghosts in the air, mingling and then scattering—four bruised, open hearts daring the day to begin.