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“The Hammer of Earthblood,” Osric said. “Forged from a falling star, and quenched in the goddess’s own blood. With it, our kind could summon up the might of the volcanoes, the lava that serves as very blood of the land, and nothing in this world or any other could stand against us.”
Osric’s eyes met Hali’s, and for a moment, the air crackled between them, heavy with unspoken things.
“And did they?” Hali asked. “Did they claim the goddess’s gift?”
Osric’s expression softened, the fierce light in his eyes dimming. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, and Hali leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.
“They did,” Osric said. “And with it, they forged a new era for our people. An era of strength, and power, and unity. The Emberforged became a force to be reckoned with, our name feared and respected throughout the land. And the Hammer of Earthblood . . . it became a symbol of our people, a reminder of the goddess’s gift, and the duty that came with it.”
“What duty?” Hali asked, her voice soft.
“To shape the earth and its people wisely, but with strength. To use weapons to end violence, not spread it. To reshape lands and civilizations, cleanse them, rebuild them.”
“Sounds a little ominous,” Hali said.
Osric smiled. “Well, it is only a legend.” Osric’s hand fell away from Hali’s, the warmth in his eyes fading. “There are other legends, of course. Tales of the Emberforged’s battles, and triumphs, and the purpose that we carry in our hearts. But it is a heavy burden, and one that I have struggled with, at times.”
Hali watched him for a long moment, the way his shoulders slumped, the weariness that seemed to seep into his very bones. “I like your legends, Osric,” she said, her voice a soft murmur. “But I think I like the idea of writing new ones even more.”
Osric stilled, and turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised in silent question.
Hali moved closer to him, until she was standing in the circle of his arms. He made no move to embrace her, but he didn’t step away, either. She reached out, running her fingers along the runes on his forearm, tracing the ancient symbols. “Legends are all well and good. But I think you’re right. It’s up to us to write our own, too.”
She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his, and her heart thudded in her chest. “And I want to write new ones with you.”
Osric’s breath quailed in his throat. He knew he should pull away, put a stop to this before it went any further. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when Hali was looking at him like that, her eyes dark with longing, with a hunger that matched his own.
With a soft, wordless sound, he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. She tasted like honey and ale and something indefinably her, and it was all he could do to not devour her, to not let the flames that raged inside him consume them both. He deepened the kiss, tangling one hand in her hair, the other on her waist, and she made a soft, muffled sound of assent, moving even closer to him.
Heat. There was heat, certainly, but there was also a warmth that spread through him, a softness that he was unaccustomed to. He was more used to the searing blaze of his magic, the white-hot fury that drove him in battle. But this . . . this was a different kind of power, one that he was only beginning to understand.
Hali’s hands were on his chest, his shoulders, and he shivered at the warmth of her touch. He drank her in, pouring all of his longing, his yearning into it, and he felt her respond in kind. She made a soft, desperate noise in the back of her throat, and it went straight to his heart.
He had never felt like this before, not even in the grip of his most powerful magics. This was a different kind of fire, a different kind of power, and it threatened to consume him whole. It was a fire in his blood, a storm in his soul, and he never wanted it to end.
He never wanted to stop.
Hali’s hands moved from his chest to his waist, and Osric stifled a gasp. With trembling fingers, he began to unfasten the laces of his trousers, and he had never known a task so difficult, so urgent. He wanted to be closer to her, he wanted to be inside her, to feel the flames that he knew were burning in her, too.
He shuddered as her fingers slipped beneath the waistband, her skin soft, hot against his. He closed his eyes, his head falling back, and he let out a silent prayer to the fire goddess, a jumble of words that he hoped she would understand. He needed her. He needed this.
He was a man of control, of discipline, but in this moment, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He was a vessel, too full of power, of longing, and he was afraid that he might shatter, that he might destroy everything around him. But Hali’s touch was a balm, a salve, and he let himself be consumed.
He bit down on his lower lip, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth, and he did his best to stifle the cry that threatened to escape him. He didn’t want to draw attention to them, didn’t want to risk being discovered. But it was getting harder, and harder to hold back, as Hali’s fingers worked their magic, coaxing the flames within him higher and higher.
Hali’s fingers danced over Osric’s clit, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through him. He bit softly into her shoulder, stifling his cries as his runes flickered brighter, their glow casting an amber hue across their entwined bodies. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment.
Hali’s voice was a low murmur in his ear, her words punctuated by wry comments that only served to heighten his arousal. Her fingers moved with a practiced rhythm, each stroke pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Heat stoked brighter and brighter within him, a fire that promised to incinerate him.
Osric’s body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Hali’s fingers worked inside him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. His walls clenched around her fingers, his body trembling as he fought to hold back his release.
But it was a losing battle. With a final, shuddering gasp, Osric came, his body convulsing as the pleasure washed over him. His walls throbbed around Hali’s fingers, his body searing hot to the touch. Heat radiated off of him, a testament to the intensity of his release.
As the waves of pleasure subsided, Osric slumped against Hali, his body spent and his mind deliciously blank. Distantly, he felt her fingers slipping out of him, her touch gentle as she traced patterns on his skin. He let out a contented sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the afterglow.
In that moment, Osric felt truly alive. He felt connected, not just to Hali, but to the world around him. He felt the fire within him, not as a destructive force, but as a source of life and warmth. And he knew, with a certainty that went beyond words, that he would do anything to protect this feeling, to protect the woman who had given it to him.
Hali’s fingers continued to trace patterns on his skin, her touch a comforting presence as he drifted in the afterglow. Her heart beat against his, steady and strong, matching the rhythm of his own. And he knew, in that moment, that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
