Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The temple was quiet in the early morning, bathed in the soft golden glow of dawn as light streamed through the high open windows. Isaria stepped inside her movements light and careful, barely making a sound against the smooth stone floor. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, mixing with the crisp morning breeze that slipped through the arches.

Her gaze drifted toward the large bed nestled in the center of the chamber, its plush blankets cocooning the figure resting within. Caldarus was curled up beneath them, his long teal-blue hair spilling across the pillows in silken waves. Strands of it framed his face, shifting slightly with each slow breath. He was tucked in comfortably, the serene rise and fall of his chest making him look so unlike the powerful and enigmatic figure she was used to. Here wrapped in the quiet solitude of morning, he was at peace, unguarded in a way that made something in her chest tighten.

She stepped closer, careful not to disturb him and that was when something caught her eye. Sitting on the nightstand beside his bed was a small, familiar object, the star-shaped brooch she had given him on the night of the Shooting Star Festival.

Her breath hitched as warmth bloomed in her chest. He had kept it.

That night had been… magical. The festival was meant to be shared between those with a bond deeper than mere acquaintance, a moment where the stars themselves seemed to acknowledge the connections between souls. She had invited him uncertain if he would accept, uncertain if it even meant anything to him. But he had come, they had stood beneath a sky alight with falling stars, their voices hushed in the wonder of it all. And now, seeing that tiny glimmering brooch resting beside him as if it had a permanent place in his world, she couldn’t help but smile.

Then as if sensing her presence, his golden eyes slowly fluttered open, catching the light and glowing like molten amber. A slow easy smile curved his lips, filled with a lazy warmth that made her heart stutter against her will. “Ah…” His voice was deep and thick with sleep, like a quiet rumble that sent a shiver through the air. “It seems I have woken to the most radiant sight imaginable.”

Isaria let out a sharp breath, crossing her arms in an attempt to steady herself, but the warmth creeping up her cheeks betrayed her. “You really wake up like this? Immediately poetic?” she muttered, trying to sound unimpressed.

But Caldarus only chuckled, shifting onto one arm as he studied her, the amusement in his gaze edged with something softer, something almost intimate. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “If dreams pale in comparison, why would I wish to remain asleep?”

Her breath caught before she could stop it, her heart stumbling at his words. He had a way of making simple things feel heavy, of turning casual teasing into something that left her feeling unsteady. Because for all his charm, there was something undeniably real in the way he looked at her, like she was truly the first light of his morning, like she was something more than just a passing moment.

Oh gods help her that was dangerous.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun filtered through the towering trees of the Deep Woods, casting dappled light across the moss-covered ground. The scent of pine and fresh earth lingered in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of wild herbs. The woods stretched endlessly in every direction quiet yet teeming with life, the rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush, the whisper of leaves swaying in the breeze.

Isaria moved with practiced ease, scanning the undergrowth for the plants she sought. She stepped over twisted roots and damp patches of earth without hesitation, her fingers brushing over leaves and stems as she examined them. The world around her seemed to shrink into focus, her attention fully set on the search.

Caldarus walked a few paces behind, his gaze drifting over the landscape. His movements were unhurried as he took in the towering trees, the flickers of sunlight breaking through the canopy, the way the wind stirred the branches overhead. The Deep Woods held a quiet beauty, untouched and undisturbed and for a moment, he simply absorbed the stillness of it all.

Eventually his focus returned to Isaria, watching as she crouched to inspect a patch of greenery, her hands moving with gentle precision. There was something about the way she worked, how she handled each plant with quiet care, completely in her element. He found himself studying her more than the forest itself.

It wasn’t long before she noticed. Without looking up she spoke, amusement threading her voice. “You’ve been staring for a while.” She plucked a leaf from her sleeve and finally met his gaze. “Did you find something more interesting than wild mushrooms?”

Caldarus took a step closer his eyes steady. The soft crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound for a moment before he finally answered. “I was merely considering… how strange it is that the sun does not grow jealous of you.”

The words landed softly but their effect was immediate. Warmth bloomed in her chest, sudden and unwelcome a feeling she could not ignore no matter how she tried. She quickly turned her attention back to the plants pretending to be entirely uninterested in the way his voice had wrapped around her like a spell. “C-Cal, that’s unfair.” she muttered, plucking at a stray leaf.

A quiet chuckle followed, rich with amusement. When she finally glanced back at him, his gaze remained the same steady, unwavering and far too sincere.

“Unfair?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly. “I only speak the truth.”

Gods help her, it was far too easy to believe him.

Chapter Text

The temple courtyard was calm, the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant trickle of the fountain blending into a soothing rhythm. Isaria had come in search of Caldarus, expecting his usual composed and regal demeanor the ever-present air of authority that rarely wavered. What she found instead was something… different. He was seated on a big boulder rock but there was an odd energy about him, an unnatural tension in the way his fingers drummed rapidly against his knee, his tail flicking in sharp, restless motions. His posture, normally poised and controlled was slightly off as if he was struggling to contain something, something chaotic. She hesitated before approaching, her gaze flicking over him with growing suspicion. “Cal? You good?” she asked carefully.

Caldarus turned his head, his eyes sharp yet strangely unfocused as though he were both intensely aware and entirely detached from reality. When he spoke, his voice was calm…too calm. Like he was trying to convince himself that everything was fine. “Since awakening, I have observed many in Mistria drinking a beverage extracted from fire-darkened beans.” He paused for a fraction of a second, then continued with a grave intensity. “They call it coffee.”

Isaria blinked, momentarily thrown off by the way he spoke as if unveiling some ancient mystery. “Okay?” she replied slowly, unsure where this was going.

Caldarus exhaled, his fingers flexing as though testing the limits of his own body. “An anonymous request of Balor secured me a packet of grounds, which I brewed this morning.”

A silence stretched between them. Isaria’s mind whirred, piecing the information together, her unease growing with every passing second. Before she could say anything, he inhaled deeply his movements sharp and twitchy and then with eerie composure, he continued. “However, I believe my measurements may have been off. Unless…” His golden eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting with calculated curiosity. “The room appears to be vibrating. Do you perceive this as well?”

It took a moment for the realization to fully sink in and when it did Isaria froze, her stomach dropping. Gods above. This was happening. Caldarus, an ancient, powerful, cold-blooded dragon guardian had overdosed on caffeine.

“Oh, for the love of—!” She immediately went closer to him, reaching out before he could topple sideways. “Cal, you need to sit still before you vibrate out of existence.”

Her hands gripped his arms, feeling the unnerving warmth radiating beneath his skin. He was already naturally fire-forged but now, his body felt even hotter as if his entire being was struggling to burn through the overload of stimulant coursing through his veins. His claws rested lightly against her wrist, his movements oddly graceful despite the visible struggle to stay grounded.

Even now through all of this, he managed to tilt his head at her with that same infuriatingly amused expression. A small, teasing smile tugged at his lips and his voice dropped lower, as though this was nothing more than an ordinary conversation. “You are quite… determined to keep me upright.” he murmured, his golden gaze never leaving hers. “Should I be honored by this attention?”

Isaria groaned, torn between concern and sheer exasperation. Her face felt warm and she refused absolutely refused to acknowledge it. “I swear.” she muttered, focusing all her willpower on ignoring the way his gaze lingered, “If you flirt while being this close to passing out, I’m leaving you here.”

Caldarus chuckled, a soft, breathy sound before finally relenting and allowing her to guide him back down onto the bench. His body remained unnaturally tense, his fingers still fidgeting slightly but at least he was no longer in immediate danger of vibrating himself into another plane of existence. Isaria sighed, rubbing her temples, already regretting every part of this situation.

"This is the first and last time I let you near caffeine."

Chapter Text

The late afternoon light filtered through the towering trees, casting a golden glow over the temple grounds. Isaria had been making her usual rounds, ensuring everything was in order before heading back inside, when she caught sight of something so baffling that she nearly tripped over her own feet.

Caldarus seated on a stone bench, his long teal-blue hair catching the light in a cascade of silk, was without hesitation, dragging a pine branch through his locks. The stiff needles snagged at the strands, pulling before gliding down leaving a few stray pinecones to drop onto his lap. He seemed entirely unbothered, his expression as composed as ever.

Isaria blinked. Once. Twice. Her brain struggled to process the sight before she finally blurted out, “Cal, what are you doing?”

Caldarus continued his makeshift grooming as if she hadn’t just walked in on something utterly ridiculous. “Combing my hair.” he replied smoothly, tilting his head to examine the pine branch in his clawed fingers. “It is… adequate.”

"Adequate?" Isaria echoed in sheer disbelief. She stormed over, pointing accusingly at the offending branch. "That’s not a comb, that’s a tree! Why just why would you even think that’s a good idea?"

Caldarus finally met her gaze, his golden eyes filled with that frustrating, unreadable calm. "It was within reach." he said simply. "And it serves the function of untangling."

Isaria dragged a hand down her face, resisting the urge to scream into the heavens. "There are actual combs for that!"

He hummed, seemingly unbothered by her distress. “I did try using my claws first.”

She froze, her mind immediately conjuring an image of Caldarus with all his ancient wisdom and regal composure, attempting to run his razor-sharp claws through his own hair. The results must have been catastrophic.

“And?” the farmer prompted, almost afraid to ask.

"It did not go well." he admitted, as if he were recounting some great miscalculation in battle. "My hair is what did you call it high maintenance?"

Isaria stared at him, barely containing the mental scream rising within her. She had no idea what was more ridiculous, the fact that he thought a pine branch was a reasonable solution or the fact that he had somehow managed to mess up so badly with his own claws that a tree branch seemed like the next best option.

"Okay, no." she said, snatching the branch from his hand and tossing it aside. "You are never doing this again. Sit down. I’m fixing this before you make it worse."

A small knowing smile curled at the corners of Caldarus’s lips as he complied, settling into place with an ease that made her suspicious. She rummaged through her satchel for a proper comb, muttering under her breath about ancient beings making poor life choices before finally stepping behind him and threading her fingers gently through his hair.

The moment she began combing, a deep, satisfied hum escaped him and Isaria almost dropped the comb right then and there.

"You are quite skilled at this." he murmured, tilting his head slightly to the side, as if inviting her touch. "I may have to rely on you more often."

Isaria’s hands hesitated for the briefest moment before she forced herself to keep going, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were. Her face felt unnervingly warm. "D-Don’t get used to it." she mumbled, focusing intently on untangling the mess he had made.

Caldarus chuckled, the sound rich and unreasonably pleased. "A shame." he mused, voice as smooth as silk. "Your hands are quite gentle, Isaria. It is… enjoyable."

Her brain short-circuited. Her grip on the comb tightened as she bit back the urge to throw it into the woods and flee. Instead, she forced herself to keep going her expression carefully neutral despite the chaos raging in her mind.

She was never going to recover from this. Ever.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun bathed the temple grounds in a golden haze, its light filtering through the swaying branches and casting intricate patterns across the stone paths. A soft breeze carried the scent of blooming flora, but it wasn’t the rustling of leaves or the distant murmur of the pond that made Isaria pause in her steps, it was the sound of music.

She had been on her way to visit Caldarus, expecting to find him in his usual state of quiet contemplation or engaged in some task within the temple halls. But now, as she stood near the entrance of the courtyard, her curiosity got the better of her. The melody was unfamiliar drifting through the air with a haunting yet soothing rhythm, each note lingering like a whispered memory. Isaria automatically followed the sound, stepping carefully so as not to disrupt whatever scene lay ahead.

And then, she saw him.

By the pond, seated on a smooth stone with the afternoon light catching in his long, teal-blue hair, Caldarus played his lute. His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, claws grazing the instrument with a precision that seemed almost impossible for something so sharp. His expression was unreadable eyes lowered slightly, his entire form still except for the movement of his hands. There was a quiet, focused elegance to him, an unspoken depth in the way he played as though he were sharing a story without words.

Isaria found herself leaning against one of the courtyard pillars, arms crossed as she let the music wash over her. Something about the sight of him so regal, yet so strangely at peace left an odd warmth in her chest. She had never seen him like this before.

"You didn’t tell me you could play." Her voice was softer than she intended, almost hesitant as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment.

Caldarus did not startle. He merely tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment, his fingers never faltering over the strings. The melody continued, unbroken, seamlessly flowing into the next part of the tune.

"I have spent many centuries observing the ways of mortals." he said, his voice calm, measured yet laced with something thoughtful. "Some of their arts are... worth remembering."

The music shifted, the notes becoming lighter almost playful as if reflecting his amusement. Isaria found herself watching his hands more closely, her gaze tracing the way his claws, so often associated with destruction, moved with an unexpected grace. It was strange seeing a being as powerful as him engage in something so... gentle.

"So..." she mused, a small smirk tugging at her lips, "You’ve been playing music for centuries, huh? I suppose that makes you some kind of master bard."

Caldarus let out a low hum, fingers plucking the final notes of the song with slow deliberation. As the last sound faded into the breeze, he finally turned toward her, his golden eyes catching the light in a way that made them seem almost molten. There was something unreadable in his gaze, something both distant and oddly warm.

"No..." he said, his voice softer now. "But if my music holds your attention, then perhaps I am skilled enough."

Isaria blinked, momentarily thrown off by the quiet weight of his words. It wasn’t just what he said, it was the way he looked at her when he said it, like she was something worth playing for. Heat crept up her neck and she quickly averted her gaze, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

"You really say these things without thinking, huh?" she muttered, trying to ignore the way her pulse picked up.

Caldarus simply strummed a slow lazy chord, his expression unreadable but tinged with something close to amusement.

"You lingered through the entire song, did you not?"

Isaria groaned, covering her face with one hand. He had a point and he knew it. And worst of all, he was entirely unbothered by how effortlessly he had flustered her again.

As he resumed playing, the music carrying on as if the conversation had never happened, Isaria sighed and reluctantly walked closer, seating herself on the nearby steps. She supposed she could listen just a little longer. But if he tried to fluster her again, she swore she was going to dump him into that pond.

Probably.

Chapter Text

The morning air was crisp, the scent of dew-kissed grass mixing with the distant aroma of temple incense as Isaria made her way toward Caldarus’s temple. The gentle golden light of dawn painted the sky in soft hues and in her hands, she carried a small basket filled with carefully prepared dishes, his favorite fried rice and apple honey curry. It had taken some effort to make sure everything was just right but after what she had witnessed before, she knew she had no choice but to intervene.

She still remembered that fateful day. She had only stopped by his temple to check on him, expecting to find him engaged in his usual activities: reading ancient scrolls, meditating, sleeping, or hopefully not attempting that bizarre method of eating random objects that are grind into powder in some reckless attempt to regain his memories. But instead she had walked in on something far worse.

The acrid smell had hit her first, thick and heavy in the air an unmistakable warning that something had gone terribly wrong. Then she saw it, burned fried rice, the grains so charred they were barely recognizable. And the noodles... oh, the poor noodles. They had been reduced to something resembling blackened twigs, twisted and unappetizing. She had stood there, frozen between worry and sheer exasperation, watching as Caldarus, unbothered as ever, had merely stared at his disaster of a meal with mild interest, as if trying to decide whether it was still edible.

That memory alone made her grip the basket tighter as she neared his temple. Cooking was clearly not one of his strengths and if she left him to his own devices, there was no telling what kind of abomination he would create next. No, she had made up her mind, she would teach him how to cook. Or at the very least, prevent him from setting something on fire again.

When she arrived, she found him exactly as expected seated by one of the grand stone pillars, golden eyes scanning an ancient scroll with quiet focus. His long teal-blue hair cascaded over his shoulder, catching the morning light in shimmering waves. He looked peaceful, regal even and for a moment, she almost hesitated to interrupt him. But then she remembered the charred noodles and any hesitation quickly disappeared.

"I brought you something." she announced, stepping forward.

Caldarus looked up from his scroll, his expression unreadable, but his gaze flickered to the basket with subtle interest. He set the scroll aside as she knelt before him, carefully placing the food in front of him. The aroma of warm fried rice and the rich sweetness of apple honey curry filled the air, a stark contrast to whatever disaster he had last attempted to make for himself.

Isaria watched as he took a slow bite, his expression remaining impassive at first before something shifted in his gaze. There was a pause, a fleeting moment of contemplation, and then.

"This is wonderful, Isaria. Thank you." His voice was calm as ever, but there was an unmistakable sincerity in it. The way he took another bite, slightly quicker than before told her everything she needed to know.

She smirked. "Better than your cooking, at least."

Caldarus didn’t respond immediately. He merely continued eating with a steady practiced grace, as if considering her words carefully. Finally, after a long moment he glanced at her. "I attempted to use my claws to cut ingredients once." he admitted, as though recounting some distant battle rather than a failed kitchen experiment. "It did not go well."

Isaria blinked. Then she stared at him, mouth slightly open as her brain processed the absurdity of that statement. "You what?"

His golden eyes remained steady on her rose-violet ones. "The meat was difficult to grasp. The vegetables were… unsalvageable."

She groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "Okay. That settles it. I’m teaching you how to cook."

Caldarus tilted his head slightly, his gaze still calm, but there was something in his expression, something amused, something almost playful. "You intend to personally instruct me?"

"Yes…" she said firmly, crossing her arms. "Because if I don’t, I might walk in on you trying to cut vegetables with your claws again and I really don’t think my heart can take that."

There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice carrying that effortless ease of someone completely unaware of the weight of his words. "Ah, but then I would lose the pleasure of seeing you like this."

Her entire thought process derailed.

Like this? Like what?!

Her body tensed and she tried to come up with some kind of retort, but her brain decided to stop functioning entirely. He wasn’t even looking at her when he said it. Just casually going back to his meal as if he hadn’t just thrown her into mental turmoil.

Was he aware of what he was saying? Did he realize how easily he could leave her flustered without even trying? Or was this just another case of him speaking his mind in that unshakably calm way of his, completely oblivious to the effect he had on her?

Isaria groaned internally, dragging a hand down her face as she realized with growing exasperation, that this was going to be an ordeal.

Chapter Text

The sun had risen higher by the time Isaria found herself back in Caldarus’s temple, determined to ensure that another cooking disaster did not unfold under his watch. After witnessing the horrors of his previous attempts, including the infamous fried rice that had somehow turned to charred stone and the noodle dish that nearly became an unintentional fire hazard, she had made it her personal mission to teach him the basics. Starting with most importantly, how not to set anything on fire.

Caldarus stood beside her, his tall frame casting a shadow over the kitchen counter as he observed her with quiet attentiveness. He was calm and composed as always, but she could tell he was taking this seriously even if she had already caught him eyeing the stove with a look that suggested another culinary catastrophe might be imminent.

“First things first.” she began, setting a sharp knife on the cutting board. “You need to learn how to properly hold a knife. And before you ask, no your claws do not count.”

Caldarus arched a brow, but there was a faint flicker of amusement in his golden eyes. “I assumed as much.” he said smoothly. “My previous method was… ineffective.”

“That’s an understatement.” she muttered under her breath before nudging the knife toward him. “Alright, watch closely.”

She demonstrated holding the blade with practiced ease guiding him through the proper grip before moving on to chopping techniques. The steady rhythm of the blade meeting the wooden board filled the space as she effortlessly diced vegetables, her rose-violet eyes narrowing in concentration.

Caldarus rather than watching her hands, found himself watching her face. The way her brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way her lips pressed together in focus, it was… captivating. An unfamiliar warmth stirred in his chest and before he realized it, his gaze had lingered for too long.

Isaria now mid-chop, caught his stare and immediately fumbled, nearly dropping the knife. “Caldarus!” she scolded, turning to him with an accusing look. “Are you even paying attention?”

His lips quirked upward. “I am. Quite closely, in fact.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Not on me! The knife! You’re supposed to be learning, not—!” She cut herself off, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. Huffing, she turned back to the board. “Never mind! Just try chopping the meat next.”

She guided him through different slicing techniques, showing him how to properly cut through tender cuts and tougher sections. His movements were careful at first precise but slow. Isaria found herself standing closer than necessary, her hands hovering over his in case he needed guidance.

“You’re catching on fast.” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe you won’t burn the kitchen down after all.”

Caldarus let out a low hum, his voice laced with dry amusement. “Your faith in me is truly touching. Should I take that as encouragement?”

“Take it as a miracle.” she shot back without missing a beat.

After finishing the prep, they moved on to the stove, where Isaria began explaining how to handle the cauldron properly. “Just a simple simmer. No excessive flames, no magical shortcuts, just patience.”

Caldarus nodded, setting the fire beneath the cauldron with measured control. Everything seemed to be going well until Isaria turned away for a mere moment to grab another ingredient. Before he could respond, a sudden boom shook the room, sending a burst of smoke billowing from the other side of the kitchen. Isaria whipped around, eyes widening at the sight of the cauldron, now engulfed in flames. “Oh, for the love of—! Caldarus! What did you do?!”

“I followed the steps exactly as you instructed.” he said, though his gaze flicked between the fire and her with mild concern.

“Since when did I tell you to ignite the cauldron?!”

Without another word, Caldarus moved swiftly, grabbing a nearby pot lid as Isaria reached for a container of salt. He clamped the lid over the cauldron, cutting off the fire’s oxygen while she quickly tossed handfuls of salt around the flames to smother any lingering embers. The fire crackled in protest before finally dying out, leaving behind only thick smoke curling into the air. Isaria coughed, waving the fumes away as she turned to Caldarus, fully prepared to scold him again, only to pause as she caught sight of his face.

“Are you hurt?” Isaria asked stepping closer, her brows furrowed in concern as her hands instinctively roamed over his arms, checking for any sign of burns. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his sleeves, searching for damage he might not have noticed.

Caldarus stood still, caught off guard by her sudden closeness. A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he slowly shook his head. Then, in a rare moment of sincerity, he answered, “I am unharmed. But I should be asking you the same.”

She blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Huh?”

His expression darkened slightly before he reached out, brushing a stray ember off her sleeve with careful precision. “You were too close to the fire.” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I did not mean for you to be in danger.” After a brief pause, he added, “I should have been more careful.”

Isaria stared at him, feeling the weight of his words. The seriousness in his tone made her heart tighten, but she quickly shook it off. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she waved a dismissive hand. “I—I’m fine. Really. No harm done.”

He studied her for a moment longer before nodding. “Good.”

Wanting to lighten the mood, she cleared her throat. “Alright! Moving on! No more cauldrons for you!” She pointed a finger at him in mock authority, her lips curling into a smirk.

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, but there was still a thoughtful look in his eyes. Yet, for once, he didn’t argue, simply following her lead without protest.

A few minutes later, as Isaria stood before the temple’s ridiculously tall cabinets, she huffed in frustration. “This is absurd. I’m not short! I’m actually pretty tall! So why in the world are these shelves designed like they expect giants to be rummaging through them?” She stretched onto her toes, fingers barely grazing the edge of the spice jar she needed. With a determined grunt, she reached higher, her hand wobbling as she tried to nudge it closer but it was futile. Whoever designed these storage spaces clearly had something against people of reasonable height.

Just as she was about to give up and grab a chair, a shadow loomed behind her. An arm brushed past her shoulder, effortlessly plucking the jar from the shelf like it was the easiest thing in the world. She barely had time to react before she felt the warmth of his presence at her back, his taller frame hovering just inches behind her.

“Struggling?” Caldarus asked, his voice a low murmur near her ear.

Isaria’s breath hitched, her face heating against her will. Oh, that’s just unfair.

She spun slightly, ready with a retort only to realize how close they were. His golden eyes met her rose-violet ones, calm and unwavering but there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her stomach flip.

“I had it under control.” she lied, snatching the jar from his hand a little too quickly.

Caldarus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Did you?”

She cleared her throat, trying to will away the warmth spreading across her face. “Don’t get cocky just because you’re taller.”

He hummed in amusement, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “Are you flustered, Isaria?”

She scoffed, straightening her posture in an attempt to appear completely unaffected. “Please. It takes more than that to fluster me.”

There was a brief pause and then in a move that was entirely unfair, he leaned in just a fraction more, his breath warm against her temple. “Is that so?”

A shiver ran down her spine before she could stop it. This was a trap. A completely unfair, entirely effective trap. Determined to gain the upper hand, she smirked. “If you keep this up, I might start thinking you’re trying to charm me.”

Caldarus considered her words for a moment then without hesitation, replied, “And if I were?” As he spoke, he reached out brushing a stray strand of her hair away from her face with deliberate ease, his fingers barely grazing her skin.

Isaria’s mind went blank in an instant, leaving her frozen in place, her mouth moving as she desperately searched for something to say. Realizing she was losing this battle fast, she let out a choked sound took a quick step back, only to bump into the counter. “Y-You—! Ugh! Just—just get back to chopping the vegetables!”

Caldarus chuckled, clearly pleased with himself as he turned away. Meanwhile, Isaria buried her face in her hands, absolutely certain that this was going to be a long, long lesson for reasons that had nothing to do with cooking.

Chapter Text

Under the gentle warmth of the spring sun, the temple courtyard was alive with the vibrant colors and fragrances of blooming flowers. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms and a soft breeze rustled the leaves, creating a soothing melody that harmonized with the distant chirping of birds. Petals from the cherry blossom trees floated gracefully through the air, some settling on the lush grass, adding to the serene beauty of the scene.

Isaria sat beneath the shade of a tree, her legs stretched out comfortably beneath the soft fabric of her skirt. The gentle breeze played with the hem, brushing against her ankles as she relished the tranquility of the afternoon. Loose strands of her blond-beige hair slipped from the braid draped over her shoulder, swaying with the wind’s tender touch. Her eyelids grew heavy as she absorbed the peaceful ambiance, the distant hum of nature lulling her into a sense of serenity. A slow, contented sigh escaped her lips and she allowed herself to relax fully momentarily free from the worries that often occupied her mind.

As she was about to close her eyes, she noticed Caldarus approaching. His long teal-blue hair flowed gracefully down his back and his eyes held a calm steady gaze. However, today there was a subtle heaviness in his steps, a weariness that had not been there before.

Concern flickered across Isaria's face. "Caldarus, are you feeling alright?" she asked, her rose-violet eyes scanning his features for any sign of distress.

He offered a small, reassuring smile. "I am merely a bit fatigued, Isaria. Nothing to worry about."

She frowned, not entirely convinced. An idea sparked in her mind, and before she could second-guess herself, she patted her lap invitingly. "Why don't you rest here for a while? It might help."

Caldarus raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Are you offering me your lap as a pillow?"

A blush crept up Isaria's cheeks, but she held her ground. "Yes, I am. You need to rest and this spot is as good as any."

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and melodious. "Very well, if you insist." With graceful movements, he lowered himself, resting his head gently on her lap.

Isaria's heart raced, her mind scrambling to process the intimate proximity. She could feel the softness of his hair against her skin, the warmth of his presence seeping into her. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure.

Caldarus closed his eyes, exhaling a slow breath as the tension in his body seemed to ease. "Your lap is surprisingly comfortable." he murmured, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Isaria spluttered, her blush deepening. "I—I'm glad you think so." she managed to say, her voice wavering slightly.

She hesitated for a moment before slowly, brushing her fingers against his hair. The strands were impossibly soft silk-like beneath her touch, yet as she combed through them, she felt the unmistakable presence of tangled leaves caught within. A soft sigh escaped her as she carefully worked her fingers through the strands, removing the small debris with delicate precision.

It seemed Caldarus still hadn't used the comb she had gifted him, a fact that should have exasperated her but instead, she found herself surprised. Despite the leaves and tangles, his hair remained incredibly soft, flowing like water between her fingers.

She gently ran her fingers through the long strands, tracing slow and careful patterns in an attempt to soothe him. Caldarus made no move to stop her instead a quiet sigh left his lips, a subtle indication of his comfort.

"You seem to enjoy this." Isaria noted, her tone lightly teasing as she continued the gentle caress.

His lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained closed. "Perhaps I do. Your touch is… calming."

Her heart skipped at the unexpected sincerity in his voice and she quickly looked away, focusing on the strands of teal-blue hair slipping between her fingers. The moment felt strangely delicate, intimate in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

A gentle breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals. One delicate petal drifted down, landing softly on Isaria's cheek. Caldarus, sensing the movement, opened his eyes and his golden gaze locked onto the petal.

Without a word, he reached up, his fingers brushing against her skin as he gently removed it. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down Isaria's spine. He held the petal between his fingers, examining it briefly before his eyes met hers. "Even the blossoms seem drawn to you." he said softly, his tone sincere.

Isaria's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Caldarus’s lips curved into a gentle smile and he let the petal fall, the breeze carrying it away. He settled back into her lap, closing his eyes once more. "Thank you, Isaria." he murmured.

She looked down at him, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion and warmth. A sudden thought crossed her mind, and she smirked slightly, regaining a fraction of her composure.

"Maybe I should take back my offer." she mused, tilting her head playfully. "You seem far too comfortable. I might be stuck here for hours."

Caldarus cracked open one eye, his expression completely unbothered. "Would that be such a terrible fate?"

Isaria sputtered, heat rushing back to her face as she struggled for a response. "You—!" She let out an exasperated huff, unable to come up with a suitable retort. He had a way of making her flustered with the simplest words and he wasn’t even doing it on purpose, again.

He chuckled, the faintest hint of satisfaction in his expression before he let his eyes slip closed again. "I shall take that as permission to stay a little longer."

As the afternoon sun cast dappled shadows around them, they remained there in comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

Chapter Text

The afternoon light streamed gently through the trees, casting dappled patterns over the worn stone table nestled in a secluded grove. On its rough surface, an array of ground herbs, powders, and small fragments of unidentifiable substances were meticulously arranged in neat rows. The air carried a strange mixture of earthy scents, some pleasant, others sharp and almost metallic. Isaria’s eyes narrowed the moment she spotted Caldarus standing over the table, his golden gaze fixed intently on his latest collection of strange materials. Her stomach twisted with unease.

She barely had a moment to process before she saw him pinch a bit of the crushed substance between his fingers and without hesitation, he placed it in his mouth.

“Did you just eat that?” Isaria’s voice came out sharper than intended as she strode toward him, hands bracing against her hips.

Caldarus turned his head at her approach, unbothered. “It is a method to reclaim my memories.”

“By eating random things?!” she shot back, her rose-violet eyes darting to the assortment on the table. “Are you serious?”

“Not random.” he corrected smoothly, his expression unreadable. “Each ingredient is carefully selected.”

Isaria let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her nose before grabbing one of the pouches sitting at the table’s edge. She hesitated before sniffing it, immediately regretting her decision as she recoiled at the pungent scent. With a grimace, she slammed it back down.

“Caldarus…” she said, her tone measured but laced with frustration, “Half of this looks like it belongs in a potion, not your stomach.”

“Both methods yield results.” he countered easily, watching her reaction with an infuriating amount of composure.

“Not if you poison yourself first.”

He merely hummed in response as if genuinely considering the risk. That more than anything made her want to strangle him.

She exhaled slowly. “You can’t just grind up random materials and eat them like some kind of... overenthusiastic forager.”

His lips quirked slightly. “Would you rather I prepare them for a potion first?”

“I’d rather you not eat unidentified substances at all.” She fixed him with a sharp look but it was met only with his usual unreadable calm. His eyes gleamed faintly as though he found her concern amusing rather than alarming and it did nothing to ease her frustration.

“If my memory returns, will you still scold me so fiercely?”

“Oh, I’ll scold you more if you end up needing a healer because of this ridiculous habit.” she shot back, arms crossing over her chest.

Caldarus chuckled, a low, knowing sound that sent an unexpected warmth creeping up her spine. “Then I suppose I must be careful, lest I become the object of your endless concern.”

Isaria opened her mouth to retort, then paused, catching the subtle glint in his eyes. Oh, he was enjoying this.

She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d be just as concerned if anyone I knew decided to swallow things they found lying around.”

“Ah.” He nodded, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So I am someone you care for.”

She sputtered for a brief moment before regaining control of her expression. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it is what you implied.” He tilted his head, his golden eyes never leaving hers, the edges of his lips curving in the faintest smirk.

Isaria scowled. “You are impossible.”

Caldarus let out a quiet hum, clearly unfazed. “And yet you remain here, fretting over me.”

She clenched her jaw, torn between annoyance and something far more dangerous, something she refused to name. He was too good at this, at twisting the conversation in ways that left her flustered and on edge. With a resigned sigh, she shook her head. “Fine. Do what you want. But don’t come running to me when you feel sick.”

His smirk didn’t fade, but there was something softer in his expression now, something almost fond. “If I do, will you take care of me?”

She stiffened, then huffed, turning away before he could see the way her ears burned. “Only to scold you properly afterward.”

A quiet chuckle followed her retreat, and despite her irritation, she could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on her, entirely too satisfied with himself.

And worse? She knew this wasn’t the last time she’d have to deal with his antics.

Chapter Text

The temple's stone halls were quiet, wrapped in winter’s chill. No matter how many braziers burned along the walls, the cold still found its way through the cracks. Outside, snow drifted down from the sky, covering the temple grounds in white. The season weighed heavily on the land, filling it with stillness. But inside, something else was stirring.

Isaria stood at the entrance of the main hall, the familiar warmth of the sacred space doing little to ease the frustration rising in her chest. Her rose-violet eyes swept over the mess before her, scrolls scattered everywhere as if a storm had torn through the chamber. Some were stacked unevenly on tables, others half-unrolled on the floor and a few were even sticking out from beneath embroidered rugs. The walls were lined with elegant tapestries, regal and dignified but the chaos beneath them ruined any sense of order.

She folded her arms, leveling an unimpressed stare at the culprit. "I thought you said you organized your scrolls, Caldarus."

Amidst the chaos stood Caldarus, his teal-blue hair cascading like flowing silk over his shoulders, catching the flickering light of the flames. His golden eyes, deep and contemplative flicked toward her as if he had only just noticed her arrival. He regarded the mess with an air of quiet amusement, lifting a clawed hand in a lazy gesture. "I did but knowledge is meant to flow freely, much like the tides of time."

Isaria bent down plucking an ancient parchment from beneath an embroidered rug with slow deliberation. She held it up between them, arching a delicate brow. "Knowledge is currently drowning under all your rugs."

Caldarus chuckled softly, a sound as warm as the fire crackling in the distance. "The rugs bring warmth. One must strike a balance between wisdom and comfort."

She opened her mouth to counter his nonsense but before she could, he took a step forward and his foot promptly caught on the very rug she had disturbed. He wavered, barely managing to steady himself and had the audacity to pretend it never happened.

Isaria exhaled through her nose. "Balance, huh?"

Caldarus straightened, still looking as regal as ever, and turned toward the shelves, likely searching for whatever knowledge had slipped his grasp. But the rug had other plans. His foot slid over the uneven fabric and this time, he was forced to grip the edge of the nearest table to keep himself from toppling forward.

She tilted her head, watching him struggle with something as mundane as temple decor. "Fascinating. The mighty dragon is losing to his own rugs."

"Merely testing my reflexes." he murmured, a smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as if this were all part of some elaborate scheme.

But the temple, it seemed had not finished toying with him.

As he attempted to step away once more, his long elegant tail, betraying his every move, brushed against the cursed rug and sent it curling at the edge. Before either of them could react, his balance was stolen from him entirely. In an instant, he lurched forward and Isaria barely had time to brace herself before the weight of him collided into her.

The world tipped, scrolls scattered like fallen leaves and the two of them crashed onto the layered carpets in an unceremonious heap.

Isaria sucked in a sharp breath as she landed on her back, the impact softened by the thick rugs but still managing to knock the air from her lungs. Above her, Caldarus had caught himself at the last moment, his clawed hands pressed firmly on either side of her, caging her beneath him. His eyes wide with fleeting surprise, flickered down to meet hers, the warmth of his breath ghosting against her cheek.

For a moment, the temple held its breath. The only sounds that remained were the distant crackle of fire, the hush of snowfall beyond the stone walls and the quiet rhythm of their breathing. The scent of parchment ink and lingering incense wove between them but it was the warmth of him, unexpected like a lingering ember refusing to fade in the cold that held her captive.

Caldarus ever composed, softened first. "Are you hurt?" His voice, deep and endlessly gentle, held the same reverence one might use when handling something fragile, something precious.

Isaria let out a slow exhale, pressing a hand to her side as if checking for injuries. "I think the only thing broken is my patience."

Something amused flickered in his gaze, though he remained concerned. His golden eyes traced over her, scanning for any sign of discomfort, his brow knitting slightly. "You took the worst of that fall."

"Because you're heavy."

His lips parted slightly before curving into a slow, knowing smile, one that carried just the faintest hint of mischief. "Ah… then I should move before I burden you any further."

It was only then that Isaria truly registered the closeness, the way his arms framed her, the stray strands of his hair spilling over his shoulders, the way the golden glow of his irises felt almost hypnotic in the dim light. A warmth unbidden and unwanted, crept up her neck.

"That would be wise." she murmured, hoping her voice didn't betray her.

Caldarus ever obliging, shifted his weight with graceful ease, rolling smoothly to the side before offering her his hand. His clawed fingers, strong yet strangely delicate in their hold, curled gently around hers as he pulled her upright with effortless strength.

Yet neither of them let go.

They stood together amidst the scattered scrolls and misplaced rugs, their hands still clasped between them. The temple remained quiet, the walls standing tall as silent witnesses, while the fire cast a warm glow that flickered across their faces. Beyond the windows, the snowfall continued soft and steady, wrapping the outside world in its cold embrace.

Without realizing it, Caldarus’s thumb moved in slow circles over the back of her hand, the touch gentle yet lingering. It was nothing exaggerated, nothing that seemed intentional, just a quiet absentminded motion. And yet it sent a warmth curling through her chest, a soft flutter she had not expected.

Isaria was not the type to react so easily, yet she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks despite herself. Still she refused to let it show beyond the faintest dusting of color on her skin. Keeping her expression carefully composed, pretending to focus on the scattered scrolls instead of the way her heart had quickened. Her fingers twitched slightly in his grasp before she steadied them, willing herself to ignore the gentle weight of his touch.

"We should clean this up." she said, her voice steady even as she fought to ignore the feeling of his touch still lingering against her skin.

"Yes." Caldarus agreed, though he made no effort to pull away.

His grip remained, warm despite the winter air. And for reasons she chose not to think about, she allowed it to stay that way just a little longer.

Chapter Text

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of drying leaves and earth as Isaria walked into the temple courtyard, her hands brushing against the rough stone of the aged pillars. The afternoon sun bathed the area in golden light, filtering through the trees whose leaves burned in shades of red, orange and yellow. A gentle breeze played with the loose strands of her hair, tickling her cheek as she caught sight of Caldarus seated at a stone table, his hair shimmering under the sunlight. His golden eyes were narrowed in deep focus as he carefully guided a quill over the parchment before him, ink flowing in elegant strokes as he traced ancient symbols he had known for centuries.

Isaria stepped closer, her curiosity piqued as she watched him work. “You always seem deep in thought when you write.” she remarked, resting her forearms on the cool stone of the table as she observed the intricate markings forming beneath his hand. “Is it something important?”

Caldarus did not immediately answer, his clawed fingers steady as he completed the last stroke of a symbol before pausing to dip his quill into the inkwell. “A language long before your time.” he finally said, his voice calm yet holding an air of nostalgia. “It was once spoken among those who understood the weight of their words.”

Isaria tilted her head slightly, her rose-violet eyes flickering over the parchment. “You’ve written these symbols so many times.” she mused, tracing a shape in the air with her finger. “Do they ever change?”

Caldarus allowed a faint exhale of amusement though he did not look at her. “The language itself does not change. Only the ones who speak it fade.”

She watched him for a moment before pointing to a particular marking near the edge of the parchment. “What about this one?”

His golden gaze flickered toward her before returning to the parchment, his fingers hovering over the symbol for a brief moment. “It means ‘๔คฬภ’.” he said, his voice quieter than before, as if the word itself carried an old memory with it.

Isaria nodded, committing the meaning to memory before pointing to another. “And this?”

Caldarus hesitated for a fraction of a second, the quill hovering above the parchment before he finally spoke. “๒єɭ๏שє๔.”

The word drifted between them, carried by the soft rustling of the wind through the courtyard. Without hesitation, Isaria repeated it in the ancient language, the sound rolling off her tongue with unexpected ease. “๒єɭ๏שє๔.”

The moment the word left her lips, Caldarus’s quill stilled. His grip on it loosened slightly and his eyes so often unwavering seemed distant, lost in something neither of them could see. A memory stirred unbidden. The echo of a voice from long ago whispered the same word, though the face it belonged to remained shrouded in the haze of time. The warmth behind it, the weight it carried, was unmistakable. It was not just a word, it was a sentiment once spoken to him perhaps by someone he had forgotten.

His chest tightened, though he did not understand why. He reached for the memory but just as quickly as it surfaced, it slipped away, dissolving into the shadows of the past.

Isaria noticing his sudden silence, furrowed her brows. “Did I say it wrong?”

Caldarus exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the lingering remnants of the forgotten moment. “No.” he murmured, his voice quieter than before. “You spoke it well.”

She studied him, suspicion creeping into her gaze before she smirked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” she teased before adding with a playful glint, “Or maybe you remembered that time you tripped over your own rug.”

Caldarus turned his head slightly, unimpressed. “A momentary miscalculation. Hardly relevant.”

Isaria leaned in resting her chin in her palm, her smirk widening. “You fell on me.”

Caldarus set down the quill, folding his hands neatly over the parchment. “And I apologized. As I recall, you did not complain.”

Her smirk faltered for half a second before she scoffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you are here, willingly.” he countered smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Isaria opened her mouth to argue but instead she simply shook her head, laughing under her breath. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Caldarus regarded her for a long moment before replying, his voice low almost amused. “Perhaps you enjoy my company more than you care to admit.”

The warmth in Isaria’s cheeks was immediate but she ignored it, standing abruptly. "You talk too much."

Caldarus merely watched her with quiet amusement as she turned away. But before she could step too far, he reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. She paused, glancing down at their entwined hands, her heart skipping a beat before she forced herself to scoff again.

"You're still holding on." she pointed out, trying to sound unimpressed though the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

"So are you." he murmured, his voice quieter this time, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin, neither of them making a move to pull away.

Chapter Text

The glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls of the temple, casting long wavering shadows over the towering bookshelves that lined the chamber. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and faint traces of incense, remnants of the ancient magic that lingered within these sacred halls. Caldarus sat at his desk, his long fingers carefully turning the fragile pages of an ancient tome. The golden hue of his eyes reflected the dim light, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the forgotten knowledge inscribed within the worn text.

The evening had been quiet, save for the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of the forest beyond the temple’s protective barrier. That peace was swiftly disrupted by the hurried clatter of footsteps echoing through the corridor. Before he could so much as glance up, the doors to the study swung open with a sharp creak and in strode Isaria, her energy as boundless as ever. There was an unmistakable gleam of excitement in her rose-violet eyes, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips as she strode toward him with purpose.

“Caldarus!” she called, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “I just met the most beautiful person in all of Mistria!”

Caldarus is unbothered by the sudden interruption, merely exhaled softly through his nose and turned a single page in his book. His tone remained calm, the faintest hint of amusement threading through his words. “Have you now?” he mused, sparing her the briefest glance before returning his focus to the tome before him. “And where, pray tell, did you encounter such an individual?”

Isaria’s grin widened as she dramatically pulled something from behind her back, revealing a small ornate mirror with a flourish. The silver frame shimmered under the candlelight, intricate carvings of swirling patterns adorning its edges. Holding it up between them, she tilted it slightly so that the reflective surface faced outward. “Right here!” she declared triumphantly. “Aren’t they just breathtaking?”

Caldarus finally closed his book with deliberate slowness, the weight of his attention now fully settling upon her. He regarded the mirror then Isaria, before arching a single brow. “You’re holding it the wrong way.” he remarked plainly.

Isaria blinked in confusion, tilting her head slightly as her brows furrowed, the excitement from moments before giving way to a puzzled expression. “Wait… what?” she murmured, her grip tightening ever so slightly around the ornate mirror as she glanced between Caldarus and the reflective surface, clearly trying to piece together what he meant.

Without another word, Caldarus reached out with steady hands, gently taking the mirror from her grasp. He turned it around with ease, tilting it so that the glass now reflected her own face. His voice usually steeped in wisdom and composed authority, softened as he spoke. “Look again.”

Isaria’s breath hitched for just a second. Her reflection stared back at her, the warm candlelight casting a soft glow over her features. For a moment her expression faltered, something unreadable flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a small, dismissive scoff. “Oh.”

Caldarus did not let the moment pass so easily. He studied her reaction with quiet intent, his golden eyes tracing the subtle shifts in her expression. Then with a rare gentleness, he leaned slightly closer, his voice dipping into something deeper, something more personal. “Yes.” he murmured, his gaze unwavering. “You truly are beautiful.”

A startled warmth rushed to Isaria’s face. She let out a short laugh, though it lacked its usual confidence. “Please…” she huffed, setting the mirror down on the desk a little too quickly. “You’re ridiculous. That’s not what I meant.”

Caldarus did not argue. Instead, he merely observed, his expression calm yet perceptive. “No?” he prompted, tilting his head slightly. “Then why the sudden interest in the floor?”

Isaria stiffened before immediately crossing her arms, turning away just enough to hide the telltale flush creeping up her neck. “I was just testing your perception.” she quipped, a touch defensive. “Clearly, you overthink things.”

Caldarus released a quiet chuckle, the sound low and rich as he leaned back into his chair. “If you say so.” His attention drifted back to the tome he had been reading, yet there was an undeniable flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Isaria who is still flustered, fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, the warmth in her cheeks refusing to fade as quickly as she wanted. She grumbled something under her breath barely audible, before shaking her head. “You’re still ridiculous.” she muttered.

Without looking up from his book, Caldarus replied with effortless ease. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Isaria had no immediate retort to that. Instead, she glanced toward the discarded mirror, catching sight of her own reflection once more. The warmth lingered, settling somewhere deep within her chest, leaving her with an unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome sensation.

She turned away before Caldarus could see the small, secretive smile that played at the corner of her lips.

Chapter Text

The gentle hum of the afternoon breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers as Isaria stepped onto her farm, her gaze settling on the large stone figure that rested in the clearing. The massive dragon statue, frozen in time, lay with its head lowered as if caught in an eternal slumber. Caldarus, her guardian, her friend, her quiet companion remained unmoving, yet she knew he was always listening. Despite his stony exterior, she could feel his presence, a silent awareness that reassured her he was still there, still existing beneath the layers of ancient magic that bound him to his prison.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she approached, her hands carefully cradling a delicate yet grandly woven crown of spring flowers, their vibrant hues of blue, violet and white arranged meticulously to complement the color of Caldarus’s true form. The festival had been in full swing in town, lively and bright filled with laughter, music and the scent of fresh pastries and floral garlands decorating every street corner. Yet as always, Caldarus could not join. And so, she had decided to bring a small piece of it to him, to ensure that he too, was part of the celebration even if he could not physically attend.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Isaria greeted, her voice light and teasing as she stepped up to the stone dragon, tilting her head up toward his face, her rose-violet eyes gleaming with warmth. She always addressed him this way, knowing he could hear her, even if no one else understood.

There was a pause before his voice, deep and distant yet unmistakably his, echoed in her mind. “Isaria?” His tone held a mixture of familiarity and quiet curiosity as though awakening from a long unending dream.

She smiled, running her fingers along the delicate petals of the crown, adjusting the placement to ensure it remained perfectly intact. “Hey, sorry to bother you but I got a surprise for you!” Her voice carried a playful rhythm, the excitement clear as she held up her carefully crafted gift, anticipation dancing in her expression.

“Oh?” His response was measured, his interest piqued though restrained in the way only he could manage.

“Since you couldn’t join The Spring Festival, I decided to bring the festival to you instead.” With a flourish, she lifted the flower crown, showing it to him with a bright grin, the sunlight casting a soft glow over her features. “Plus, it’s your color.” she added, pleased with her handiwork, knowing full well that the combination of hues would have suited him in his true form.

For a moment, there was silence, a pause that held a depth she could not fully interpret. Then his voice softened, a quiet acknowledgment carrying through their bond. “Thank you… this is very kind of you.”

Isaria’s expression softened, her heart warming at the rare gentleness in his tone. She carefully stepped closer to the immense stone dragon statue, her fingers gently cradling the flower crown. With great care, she lifted it and draped it over his massive horns, ensuring it rested delicately around the base, where the stone was smooth enough for it to stay. The crown fit snugly, its vibrant colors contrasting with the cold gray stone of his figure. She lingered there for a moment, her fingertips brushing over the sharp ridges of his stone scales as she made sure everything was in place. A quiet smile played on her lips, the bond between them unmistakable in that simple gesture. Even in his stony prison, he was never truly alone and she was always there, bringing light to his dormant form.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As time shifted to the present, sunlight filtered through the towering trees of the Deep Woods, their emerald leaves creating a shifting mosaic of light and shadow over the meadow below. The scent of wildflowers and fresh earth mingled with the crispness of the untouched air, the gentle hum of nature surrounding them in an embrace of tranquility. The wide expanse of the meadow was blanketed in blossoms of every color, stretching far beyond where the eye could see, a perfect sanctuary hidden within the depths of the enchanted forest.

Isaria sat on a picnic mat, her legs tucked beneath her, the remnants of their shared meal placed neatly to the side. Scattered around her lap were countless flowers, plucked carefully from the field, their vibrant petals adding to the picturesque scene. With deft fingers, she worked on weaving them together, her hands moving with practiced ease the familiar motion bringing a sense of calm as she focused on each delicate strand. Across from her, Caldarus sat with a book in hand, his golden eyes scanning the pages with quiet concentration, his tall frame relaxed yet poised, an air of tranquility surrounding him. Though he had adjusted well to his human form, there were still moments where exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, a lingering reminder of the toll it had taken to break free from his prison. He bore it without complaint, never one to voice discomfort, though Isaria could see it in the way his shoulders occasionally tensed, the way his breath deepened when fatigue threatened to claim him.

She hummed softly to herself as she tied off the ends of the flower crown, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she admired her handiwork. With a gentle movement, she leaned forward, carefully lifting the delicate creation and placing it atop Caldarus’s head.

His gaze flickered up from his book, curiosity stirring as he regarded her with quiet intrigue. “Another one?” His voice held no protest, only mild surprise as though he had already anticipated such an outcome.

She grinned, her fingers still lingering near the crown as she adjusted it slightly. “Of course! You’re starting a collection now.”

A breath of amusement escaped him, a faint exhale that wasn’t quite a laugh but carried the essence of one. He made no move to remove it, allowing the memory of their first festival together to surface, the distant recollection of when she had first given him a flower crown, back when he had been nothing more than an unmoving stone figure in her fields.

Slowly he closed his book, letting it rest upon his lap as his gaze drifted to the flowers surrounding them. Reaching out he selected one, his fingers brushing over the soft petals as he turned his attention back to her. With deliberate care he leaned in, the space between them narrowing as he reached up, gently tucking the flower beneath her ear. His fingertips brushed against her hair, the strands soft beneath his touch as he adjusted the placement, ensuring it sat just right.

Isaria’s breath hitched, her heartbeat suddenly irregular, caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness of the gesture. A warmth crept up her neck, settling in her cheeks as she remained frozen under his touch, her mind scrambling to form a coherent response.

“There.” Caldarus said simply, his golden eyes studying her with an unreadable expression. “It suits you.”

Her fingers twitched slightly against her lap, the sudden flutter in her chest sending a ripple of warmth through her body. “Oh. Uhhh…” She cleared her throat, attempting to steady herself though the lingering sensation of his touch made it a challenge. “Thanks.”

His expression remained calm, entirely unaware of the effect he had just caused as though the simple act had held no deeper meaning beyond placing a flower in her hair.

Isaria let out a breath, shaking her head slightly as she reached for another flower, her hands busying themselves as she willed away the warmth creeping up her cheeks. “You know.” she mused, attempting a casual tone, “You have a habit of saying things that sound suspiciously like flirting.”

Caldarus blinked, his brow slightly furrowing, genuine curiosity flickering across his features. “Do I?”

She laughed, a light and breathy sound as she shook her head again. “Never mind.”

The afternoon stretched on, the golden light of the sun casting a warm glow over them as they remained in the quiet embrace of the meadow. Unspoken yet undeniably present, the warmth of the moment lingered between them, a silent understanding woven into the space they shared, delicate yet unyielding like the petals of the flowers that surrounded them.

Chapter Text

The temple was quiet, bathed in the dim glow of candlelight, the air thick with the scent of incense and ancient magic. Shadows flickered against the stone walls, their movements dancing to the rhythm of the steady flame. At his worktable, Caldarus worked in quiet concentration grinding a peculiar-looking fungus into a fine powder. His teal-blue hair cascaded over his shoulders as he studied the substance, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. He had found this vibrant pink mushroom deep within the secluded parts of the Deep Woods, a place few ventured. It had a two-lobed shape, with a diamond-like core and two rounded "wings" at the top, almost heart-shaped. He had only ever seen it in faint memories, elusive glimpses of a past that had slipped through his fingers. He hoped this mushroom with its strange aura, would help him remember. Without hesitation, he pinched a small amount of the powder between his claws and tasted it, rolling the bitter earthy flavor over his tongue.

A strange warmth spread through his body, slow at first then sudden and consuming. His usually steady mind wavered as a peculiar, weightless sensation overtook him. The ever-present coolness in his veins melted into a dizzying heat, making his body feel almost too light. His usual composed expression softened and before he could even process what was happening, his lips curved into something uncharacteristically unguarded.

At that exact moment, the temple doors swung open, revealing Isaria standing with her arms crossed, her sharp rose-violet gaze filled with immediate suspicion. The moment she spotted him, her expression shifted to something between confusion and mild horror.

“Caldarus.” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What did you—?”

Before she could finish, Caldarus turned to her, his golden eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar intensity. In an instant, his entire demeanor changed, fluid, almost playful with an ease that was not his usual self.

“Ah, my moonlit blossom, my radiant dawn.” he breathed, stepping toward her in a slow, deliberate stride. “You grace me with your presence, yet I am already drowning in your beauty.”

Isaria’s body froze, her posture stiffening with sudden tension. She blinked, her eyes wide with confusion. “What?”

Caldarus continued forward, closing the space between them. His deep, smooth voice dropped lower, almost like a purr. “You are an enchantment in human form, Isaria. The stars themselves dim in comparison to your eyes—!”

Her face burned as she instinctively stepped back, her mind racing to make sense of whatever was happening. “C-Caldarus, what in Mistria is wrong with you?!”

Instead of answering, Caldarus took her hand in his, pressing it against his chest. His skin was warm, too warm. For a cold-blooded being like him, it was unnatural. His gaze never wavered as if he was utterly mesmerized by her presence. “I have seen many wonders, but none quite like you.” he murmured. “Stay with me tonight, let me bask in your warmth.”

Her brain went short-circuit. Every single word leaving his lips made her want to collapse into the floor and never resurface. “Okay. Enough.” she said, gripping his wrist with firm resolve. Without another word, she hauled him toward the bed, dragging his absurdly tall frame with surprising strength. “You’re clearly not in your right mind. You need to sleep this off—!”

Caldarus barely seemed to register what was happening, his eyes watching her with something unreadable, something far too soft. Then in a voice smooth as silk, he added, “Or… we could do something far more enticing in bed, my dear.”

Isaria stiffened, her face going dangerously red as she fought the violent urge to combust on the spot. He was teasing her, he had to be. Right? She forced herself to maintain a deadpan look despite the heat creeping up her neck. “Caldarus...”

He let out a low chuckle, his gaze half-lidded as if he were drifting somewhere between reality and delirium. “You don’t have to be shy—!”

That was it. That was the last straw. Without another word, Isaria pushed him onto the bed with far more force than necessary, pinning him there with a firm glare. She stood over him, arms crossed, her breath coming out in sharp exhales. “Sleep.”

Caldarus tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his drowsy eyes. “But what if—!”

“Sleep.”

A pause. Then finally with a soft dreamy sigh, he closed his eyes, his body going slack as he succumbed to unconsciousness. Isaria remained standing there for a long moment, staring at him, her heart still pounding in her chest. Whatever that powder was, she was going to find it and destroy every last trace of it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The next morning, Caldarus stirred, his body feeling heavy as he slowly blinked awake. His mind was foggy like he was grasping at the edges of a dream he couldn’t quite remember. He shifted slightly, realizing he had been neatly tucked into bed, though he had no memory of getting there. A strange unease settled in his chest, a nagging feeling that something had happened something important. Turning his head, his eyes landed on Isaria sitting beside him. Her arms were crossed, her gaze fixed firmly on the opposite wall and there was a noticeable stiffness in her posture.

“Did I do something?” His voice came out quieter than usual, laced with hesitation.

Isaria let out a sigh, still refusing to look at him. “You tell me.” she muttered, her tone unreadable.

Caldarus frowned, searching his muddled thoughts for an answer. He could recall working at his table, experimenting with that strange mushroom. Then… warmth. A strange unfamiliar heat rushing through him. Flashes of movement, his own voice spilling words he couldn’t fully grasp, and Isaria. The way she had looked at him flustered, maybe even embarrassed. His chest tightened. Had he said something? Done something?

A worried crease formed between his brows as he sat up a little. “Isaria… if I said anything to upset you—!”

She shot to her feet so fast it startled him. “Forget it.” she blurted, face turning red. “Just don’t ever do something like that again.” She turned on her heel and made a quick exit, her braid swaying behind her as she practically fled the temple.

Caldarus remained still, watching her go the uneasy feeling settling deeper. He ran a clawed hand through his hair, frustration flickering in his expression. What exactly had he done?

“Perhaps I should reconsider testing unknown substances so recklessly.” he muttered to himself.

Chapter Text

The rain had been falling since dawn, a gentle steady rhythm that whispered through the Deep Woods. Droplets kissed the canopy above, sliding off leaves and gathering into tiny rivers along the temple stone. Caldarus stood beneath the open sky just beyond the protective arch of his temple, letting the rain soak into his clothes and hair. He barely moved, tall and still as a statue himself, the sound of falling rain a distant hum in his mind as his thoughts wandered elsewhere, back to the events of the day before.

The memory was hazy, like trying to recall a dream after waking. He remembered grinding that odd fungus, its strange earthy scent. He remembered taking a taste, noting the bitter edge on his tongue. Then nothing but a rush of warmth and the muddled feeling of losing control. After that, only fragments. The sight of Isaria’s face, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. The sensation of her hand gripping his wrist. Her voice, firm and unwavering, grounding him when his mind was adrift. He had no memory of what he said to her but whatever it had been, it clearly unsettled her. That bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Caldarus let the rain run down his face, cooling his heated thoughts. He had already struggled enough with adjusting to life outside of his stone prison. The years of slumber had not only dulled his strength but also made emotions feel sharper, stranger. He was still learning what it meant to live again and with someone like Isaria nearby, with her radiant kindness and fierce spirit, it wasn’t always easy to remain composed.

A familiar sound reached his ears, soft footsteps over wet stone, accompanied by the gentle rustle of fabric and the muffled patter of rain against an umbrella. He turned his head slightly just as Isaria stepped into view, her braid already a little damp at the ends, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. She looked concerned, her rose-violet eyes scanning him as she stepped closer, the umbrella tilted protectively over his head despite the fact that he was already soaked through.

“Caldarus.” she said, her tone urgent but warm, “What in Mistria are you doing out here? You’re drenched!”

He blinked slowly, water dripping from the ends of his teal-blue hair, golden eyes meeting hers. There was no teasing in his expression, no usual glint of dry wit. Only quiet remorse. “I was… thinking.” he said, voice low almost uncertain. “About yesterday. About what I said.”

Isaria stiffened for a moment, the tips of her ears flushing pink though she quickly turned her focus back to gently patting his hair dry with the edge of her scarf. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He shook his head slightly. “Only pieces. Enough to know I must’ve embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to. I… I would never wish to make you uncomfortable, Isaria.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed drying his face, her touch gentle and focused. “You were definitely not in your right mind. But… it’s fine. You weren’t being mean or anything, just… saying strange things.” She looked away, clearly flustered. “Really strange things.”

He nodded shoulders relaxing a little. “Still, I’m sorry. I don’t wish to cross boundaries, not with you. You’ve done so much for me. Brought me meals, your presence… It’s meant more than you know.”

Isaria fumbled with the scarf in her hands, cheeks now fully pink. “I-I forgive you. Just… please avoid eating random mushrooms again. Or anything that glows. Or smells weird. Or looks cursed.”

Caldarus gave a quiet chuckle, the sound soft and genuine. “That may prove difficult. Curiosity is… difficult to silence.”

She shot him a look, part stern then part fond. “Then at least make sure I’m around before you decide to taste-test the next strange thing that grows near your temple.”

“As you wish.” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Though I’ll admit… if the result is seeing you blush that beautifully, perhaps it was worth it.”

“Cal—!” she sputtered, taking a quick step back as her voice hit a higher pitch. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re all soaked!”

He blinked innocently, then looked down at himself. His robes were clinging to his tall frame, soaked from the rain, his claws still glinting wet and his tail twitching slightly behind him. “Ah... right.”

Isaria huffed, not bothering to hide the flustered shake of her head as she reached out, taking his arm gently. “Come on. You’re going to catch something. Let’s get you inside and dry before you turn into stone again.”

He allowed her to guide him, their steps quiet on the rain-slicked stone. The temple doors welcomed them with warmth and the faint scent of incense still lingering from the night before. As the rain continued outside, soft and endless, Caldarus stole one last glance at the world beyond the door, his heart calm in a way it hadn’t been in centuries.

He was no longer a statue forgotten in a lonely field. He was here, awake and with her. And though he might never say it out loud, he hoped these little moments with Isaria would never end.

Chapter Text

The sun broke through the canopy the next morning with an almost theatrical brilliance, as though the skies themselves were trying to compensate for yesterday's long, gentle rain. Golden light filtered in through the stained-glass windows of the temple, casting warm hues across the stone walls and marbled floors. The temple felt alive in a different way now, the air fresher, scented faintly with damp earth, blooming moss, and the incense that Isaria had lit earlier to cleanse the space. Despite the shift in weather, a soft hush lingered inside, like the temple knew to be quiet because someone wasn't feeling well.

Caldarus despite his ageless power and the great celestial fire that once pulsed through his veins, had fallen victim to something profoundly mundane: a cold. It was almost absurd. After centuries sealed away, surviving cataclysmic battles, bearing ancient magic and divine knowledge, he had finally been undone by something as simple and human as standing in the rain too long with soaked robes and an exhausted heart. Now bundled beneath layers of soft blankets on the massive, king-size bed that dominated the private sanctum of his temple chambers, he looked less like a mighty dragon in human form and more like a man who had stubbornly defied common sense and lost. The plush bedding did little to mask the indignity he felt. His nose held the faintest red tint, his voice had turned gravelly hoarse and his usually radiant golden eyes, always sharp, always calculating were dulled by the haze of a high-grade fever and the lingering sting of embarrassment. The mighty had not fallen, but they had certainly caught a cold and it left him humbled beneath the weight of quilts, silence, and one very concerned woman hovering just outside the doorway.

Isaria stood nearby with a bowl of warm herbal broth she had prepared herself. Much of her knowledge of herbs came from a book written by one of the temple priestesses, a resource she had studied carefully over time. Combined with her natural instincts and the care she felt deeply, even if she didn’t always voice it, she approached him. Setting the bowl down on the side table, she folded her arms, trying to keep her tone neutral, though a hint of reprimand slipped through.

"You know." she began, her rose-violet eyes narrowing as she looked down at him, "For someone who once claimed to have bathed in molten gold and survived a war between sky gods, you'd think you'd have better resistance to a bit of water."

Caldarus now lying half-draped in the woven blanket she'd insisted he use, let out a low groan that sounded somewhere between annoyed and pitiful. "Your tone carries judgment, Isaria." he murmured, coughing lightly. "Though I assure you, the rain was not the enemy. It was... a moment of quiet reflection.”

She arched an eyebrow, grabbing a spoon and gently blowing on it before offering it to him. "Ah, so your real enemy was your own brooding. Fascinating. Open your mouth."

He squinted at her but obeyed, letting her feed him the warm broth. He didn’t say anything at first, then blinked. "This is... surprisingly pleasant. What's in it?"

"Mallow root, wild ginger, a pinch of moon pepper and a few things you’re probably better off not knowing about." she said with a small smile, dipping the spoon again. Her fingers brushed his jaw for a moment as she tilted it toward him and though she said nothing about it, the contact made her cheeks color slightly. She focused on the bowl.

Caldarus, despite his fevered haze, noticed. He didn’t press, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. "You’ve quite the talent for this. Perhaps you were a healer in another life."

"Or perhaps I just got tired of patching up stubborn temple spirits who wander into storms for fun." she replied, deadpan. But her gaze softened as she watched him eat another spoonful. "I was worried, you know. You didn’t come back in for hours. You looked... distant. Like you weren’t all the way there."

He shifted slightly, the blanket slipping a little as he propped himself up on one elbow. The movement caused his tail, normally tucked neatly beside him, to uncoil slightly brushing against her ankle in a motion that was probably unintentional but still made her pulse hitch. She didn't mention it. He didn’t, either.

"I was thinking about the things I’ve forgotten." he admitted slowly, voice lower now, rough but thoughtful. "When I lost myself, you pulled me back. Not many could have done that. I wanted to understand why it affected me so deeply."

Isaria bit her lower lip, choosing her next words carefully. She placed the bowl aside and picked up the damp cloth she had prepared, dabbing his forehead gently. Her fingers were cool against his flushed skin. "Sometimes... when we come back to life, we feel everything too much. Emotions hit harder. Memories surface in strange ways. I know what it’s like to carry something too long and suddenly feel it all at once."

Caldarus watched her for a long moment, golden eyes meeting hers with rare openness. Then with a quiet exhale, his tail did it again, this time a little more deliberate, curling loosely around her waist in a slow, sweeping motion. He didn’t tug, not fully. Just a small pull. Enough that she instinctively leaned in closer, her knees brushing the edge of the bed as she sat beside him.

She didn’t pull away, not because she hadn’t noticed but because the warmth of his tail around her waist, the gentle pull that drew her in closer and the soft look in his eyes were enough to silence any protest that might have formed on her lips. The flutter in her chest though subtle, was enough to make her feel off balance and she frowned, not out of real irritation but with the kind of exasperation that came when one’s composure started to slip unexpectedly. “That tail of yours.” she muttered, her cheeks warming as she narrowed her eyes at him, “Has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, tired but sincere and he let his fingers settle near hers on the bed, close but not quite touching. “It seems to respond to warmth.” he said softly as if that explained everything.

She arched a brow, attempting to keep her tone neutral, though the color rising in her face betrayed her. “You mean me.”

His eyes still glowing faintly despite the fever’s dull weight, didn’t leave hers. “You are... very warm.” he murmured with no hint of jest or irony, his voice quiet and reverent as if he were confessing a truth the world had kept from him for too long. “In ways that make this place feel less like a tomb... and more like home.”

The words hit harder than they should have, and she turned her face away before he could see how completely he’d disarmed her, how the soft flicker of something tender, something dangerous, was threatening to crack the guarded walls she’d built. “You need sleep.” she said, her voice not quite steady. “Clearly the fever’s gotten to your head.”

“Perhaps.” he replied dreamily, his lashes lowering as his eyes drifted shut halfway, voice slipping into that gentle cadence that only came when one was teetering on the edge of slumber, “But if fever grants me that kind of clarity... I might just welcome it.”

She let out a breath half sigh, half something softer and though she shook her head, the gesture was far more fond than scolding. Leaning forward, she tugged the blanket up to his shoulders, adjusting it with gentle precision, her hands moving slowly as though reluctant to let go. Her fingers lingered just a second too long against the warmth of his skin before she finally drew them back, tucking them into her lap. Then she spoke again, softened into something nearly tender. “Just rest now. I’ll stay close by... in case that clarity of yours gets any worse.”

Caldarus didn’t reply but his tail remained curled around her, not tightly but enough to say stay. As the golden sunlight danced across the ancient stones and the quiet hum of birds filtered through the open windows, Isaria allowed herself that small, silent surrender.

For now, just this once, she would stay by his side.

Chapter Text

Warm rays of late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the vine-draped arches of the temple, casting golden streaks upon the stone floors where dust motes danced lazily in the air. The scent of wildflowers, ever-present in the Deep Woods, mingled with the earthy scent of aged scrolls and ancient incense clinging to the temple walls. Seated comfortably on a woven mat near one of the pillars, Isaria leaned over a large book splayed open in her lap, her rose-violet eyes scanning the aged pages with focused determination. Her fingers, calloused from farming but gentle in touch, traced a line of forgotten script as she murmured to herself in thought. A braid fell loosely over her shoulder, strands of her hair catching the light as she absently tucked them back behind her ear. She didn’t notice the soft footfalls at first, not until a faint rustle of movement stirred the quiet and a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

“Still searching?” came the calm low voice that carried an odd sort of warmth, like a flame flickering behind stone.

Isaria looked up, her eyes meeting the golden gaze of Caldarus as he stepped fully into the chamber. He didn’t seem surprised to see her still here, nor particularly rushed. His hair tied loosely at the back, shimmered faintly like waves under moonlight and though clad in his humanoid form, the subtle dragon traits still clung to him, the gentle curve of his horns, the faint glint of scales along his arms, the flex of sharp claws as he folded his hands behind his back.

She offered a small smile. “It’s an old tome. I think there’s something hidden in the margins. Something about the forest’s older protective enchantments, maybe... or I’m just desperate for answers and reading too much into ink stains.”

He walked closer, each step graceful despite his height, the air humming softly around him with an energy long since restrained. When he finally settled beside her, he didn’t speak immediately. With barely a sound, he lowered himself onto the mat beside her, long legs folding beneath him with an ease that belied his fatigue. His tail, smooth and marked with scale patterns, curled behind him before sliding forward in a subtle sweep, gently wrapping around Isaria’s waist. The motion was casual, almost thoughtless, an instinctual expression of closeness rather than intent but it caused her breath to catch in her throat.

She didn’t say anything about it, though she felt the heat creeping up the back of her neck. Instead, she cleared her throat and tapped a portion of the page with her finger. “Look here. I think this line is referencing the old wards near the western border. I don’t know if it’s still active, but maybe it’s worth checking out.”

Caldarus leaned in, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers. His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he examined the worn text. “Hmm. The syntax is archaic, but you may be right. This character here—” he pointed, his clawed fingertip hovering just above the page “—Refers to a sanctuary glyph, which were often placed near leyline fractures. A barrier formed from one could provide both camouflage and protection. It would explain the sudden shifts in magical currents you felt last week.”

Isaria looked at him, slightly stunned. “You always manage to interpret these things so easily. I’ve been staring at this for an hour.”

His lips curved in a faint smile. “You give me too much credit. I’ve merely had centuries to practice. But you—” His gaze lingered on her then, longer than necessary, golden and warm like sunlit amber. “You grasp these things with instinct alone. That’s far rarer.”

She blinked, flustered, her voice a bit more breathless than she intended. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true.” he replied without missing a beat, his tone so sincere, so effortlessly gentle, that it made her stomach flutter. Then almost as if realizing the weight of his words, he glanced away briefly, a hint of amused self-awareness flickering across his features. “I... forget sometimes how easily words can shift meaning among humans.”

Isaria smiled softly, her gaze returning to the book though her mind was no longer on ancient enchantments. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. You say things without realizing how they sound.”

“Do they trouble you?” he asked, tone more serious now.

She paused, fingers curling slightly against the page. “No. Not at all.” A beat passed before she added, almost in a whisper, “I think I like it, actually.”

There was silence for a moment. Outside the birds chirped lazily in the distance and the breeze stirred the leaves beyond the temple steps. Isaria could feel the warmth of his tail against her waist, anchoring her to the moment and though she didn’t dare lean further into him, she also didn’t pull away.

Caldarus ever the quiet observer, simply sat beside her, eyes focused not on the text now but on the soft expressions that crossed her face as she pretended to read. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Some connections didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

And for now, this was enough.

Chapter Text

Afternoon light poured softly through the crystal openings of the temple, casting shimmering silver-blue reflections across the intricately carved stone walls. Outside, the Deep Woods lay blanketed in snow, tranquil and quiet under winter’s chill. Inside, the stillness was gently broken by the low, steady crackle of the firepit that Caldarus had kindled earlier. The warmth of the flames flickered softly against the ancient sigils etched into the floor, while a tea kettle perched above the glowing embers, sending a delicate wisp of steam into the chilly air. The aroma of pine resin and old magic hung in the air, subtle and persistent, like a heartbeat beneath the serene silence.

Isaria sat at the long stone table by the window, her cloak draped casually over her shoulders. She was focused on a small, delicate task, weaving together sprigs of dried winter herbs with a soft pale silk ribbon, creating a charm intended to bring gentle fortune and good health. Her fingers danced in a smooth, steady rhythm, each movement infused with quiet determination. A stray lock of her hair brushed against her cheek, and she tucked it away absentmindedly, humming a familiar old tune, one she often sang when the winds outside her farm turned chilly.

Caldarus sat a short distance away near the brazier, eyes aglow with a hue like burning amber, half-lidded in quiet thought. The soft light from the flames shimmered across his features, elegant yet distinctly inhuman, with horns that caught the fire’s light and scales that traced delicate patterns over his skin, reminiscent of molten gold just beneath the surface. He had become accustomed to watching her hands move in this way: steady, patient, and deliberate. For someone who had once only known silence and stone, every gesture she made felt like the truest embodiment of life itself.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and smooth, carrying that familiar rhythm of thought that always seemed to precede something unexpected. “Isaria…” he said, his tone gentle yet focused. “A matter of curiosity.”

The soft sound of her humming faded as she looked up from her work. A warm smile played on her lips, but her eyes sparkled with a hint of suspicion, she had learned that when Caldarus brought up such topics, it usually led to questions that were anything but ordinary. “Hmm? What’s on your mind this time?” she asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

He took a moment before responding, his eyes lingering on her hands, small and nimble, moving in sync with her breath. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was gentle, almost tentative. “I would like to see your hand, if you would not mind.”

She blinked, tilting her head as if trying to decipher his thoughts. “My hand?” she repeated, her voice light, a mix of amusement and curiosity. For a brief moment, it seemed like she might burst into laughter, but instead, she set down the charm she was working on and extended her hand, palm up, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “Alright…” she said, “But don’t tell me you’re about to examine it like some rare artifact from your lost era again. I’m fairly certain it’s just an ordinary hand.”

Caldarus’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened with quiet mirth as he reached for her. His movements were slow and intentional, like someone carefully cradling a fragile treasure for the very first time. His clawed fingers lightly brushed against hers before fully enveloping her smaller hand. The contrast between them was striking, his skin was cool and faintly textured with the smooth ridges of scales, while hers was warm and vibrant, gently pulsing in sync with her heartbeat. The warmth of her touch bled slowly into his palm, filling the spaces where stone once lived.

“Yes.” he murmured, turning her hand gently in his grasp as if reading it. “It is indeed… quite different from mine.” His other hand came to rest over hers, large enough to almost swallow it whole. His voice dropped, softer now, full of quiet thought. “Soft. Alive.”

Isaria felt her breath hitch, and a faint blush bloomed across her cheeks. She attempted to laugh it off, though her voice wavered slightly. “That’s what happens when you’re not made of scales and stone, you know.”

Caldarus tilted his head slightly, unbothered by her playful teasing. “Stone does not hold warmth.” he remarked, his voice calm and almost nostalgic. His thumb brushed along her knuckles. “But you… you carry it even in your fingertips.”

Her heart skipped a beat at that. “You make it sound like I’m something special.” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though her voice softened toward the end. But when his thumb drifted over her wrist again, tracing slow circles where her pulse beat, she swallowed and looked away. “They’re just hands, Caldarus.”

He studied her intently, his eyes glimmering softly, like embers flickering behind glass. “And yet.” he said in that calm, steady tone of his, “They do what mine could not. They heal. They build. They touch without causing destruction.”

The words hit her harder than she expected, heavy but gentle all the same. For a long moment, silenced enveloped them. The brazier crackled softly nearby, casting a slow, rhythmic warmth throughout the temple. Outside, snowflakes danced through the Deep Woods, melting as they met the faintly shimmering barrier surrounding the temple.

To calm her racing thoughts, Isaria gently turned his hand over in hers. His palm was large and rough, with faint lines of scales that glimmered in the firelight. “Yours aren’t so bad.” she said softly, tracing one of the markings with her thumb. “A bit rough around the edges, maybe, but… I actually like them.”

He blinked, a slight crease appearing between his brows as if he were trying to understand. “Like them?”

“Mhm.” A small, genuine smile began to form on her lips, the corners lifting ever so slightly. “They’re strong. Honest. You could crush a stone, yet you still hold a teacup like it’s made of glass.”

He seemed to ponder her words, his eyes shimmering softly, a being of great power, caught off guard by such a simple act of kindness. “That is… an odd thing to find endearing.”

“Get used to it.” she playfully replied, her tone warming up again. “You’re in my world now. I find all sorts of odd things endearing.”

That earned her something rare, a soft, low sound, a rumble of laughter deep within his chest that rolled like distant thunder. It surprised her how human it sounded, yet there was something ancient and gentle in it too. “Perhaps.” he said, a hint of amusement dancing on his lips, “That is what I find… compelling.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly tried to pull her hand back, but his fingers lingered just a moment longer before finally letting go. The loss of his touch left a strange emptiness behind, like stepping from warm sunlight into a cool shadow.

“Thank you.” he murmured, tilting his head slightly in that formal way of his. “For indulging my curiosity.”

Isaria managed a small smile, though her voice came out softer than before. “Anytime you want to hold my hand, Caldarus.” she said, glancing away, “You don’t have to come up with an excuse.”

For a brief moment, he froze. The amber light in his eyes dimmed slightly, leaving his thoughts unreadable. Then in that deliberate and serious tone that was all his own, he said, “I will… keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t the kind that felt cold or distant. The firelight flickered gently against the temple walls, casting reflections on ancient carvings and the soft glimmer of runes etched into the stone. Outside, the winter snow fell endlessly, creating a muffled, gentle hush, while inside, a cozy warmth lingered, not just from the glow of the brazier, but from something deeper, more delicate, and slowly blossoming.

Isaria returned to her weaving, her fingers moving skillfully, even though her heart hadn’t quite calmed. Every now and then, she could feel his gaze drifting back to her hands, not out of desire, but in quiet awe, as if still trying to understand how something so simple could feel so alive.