The village square was alive with muted anticipation.
Villagers lined the main path, heads bowed as the elder led Sion and Dara toward the center — a worn stone platform surrounded by cracked statues and hanging talismans.
At the platform's heart—
It hovered.
Suspended above a carved pedestal, a small black flower-shaped artifact, delicate and unnatural.
It pulsed faintly with a breath that wasn't human, petals curled inward like it guarded a secret.
The Voidpetal.
Its surface shifted subtly, darkness swallowing light, whispering at the edges of hearing.
Around them, the villagers dropped to their knees, murmuring prayers in a language lost to time.
Sion and Dara stepped closer without needing to speak.
When they saw it clearly — when the socket at the center seemed to pull at Sion's earring like a magnetic cry —
They froze.
Their eyes locked across the distance.
No words spoken.
But their thoughts moved as one.
Isn't that... one of the Seven Ancient Relics?
The knowledge was instant.
Buried deep inside both of them — stories of relics lost to the ages, scattered across the continents.
Relics powerful enough to overturn kingdoms, rewrite natural laws.
Relics that no one had seen for thousands of years.
Until now.
Until here.
The Voidpetal hung before them like a black sun ready to eclipse everything.
The elder, oblivious to their silent exchange, knelt before it and said with reverence:
"Our saviors have come. The Prophecy has been fulfilled."
The villagers slowly rose to their feet after the elder's declaration.
A soft murmur passed through the crowd — awe, hope, desperation all tangled together.
The elder turned toward them, staff tapping lightly against the ground.
"Come," he said. "There is more you must see."
Sion and Dara followed without a word.
As they moved deeper into the village, the elder spoke — explaining in his deep, rhythmic voice:
Long ago, the Voidpetal had fallen from the heavens like a wounded star.
The ancestors had worshiped it ever since, believing it would one day call forth their saviors.
Its power, they said, was the foundation of the Blue Roots' survival — their crops, their beasts, their strength.
They passed between rows of low houses and market stalls.
Villagers bowed as they passed — men, women, even children — their eyes wide, shining with unspoken expectation.
But as Sion walked, a strange feeling tugged at the back of his mind.
Something subtle.
Wrong.
He didn't need to reach for his deeper senses — it was natural, instinctive.
Something unseen was pulling at the villagers.
A faint, constant siphoning.
And all of it...
Was flowing toward the center of town.
Toward the Petal.
He kept walking, expression unreadable.
They turned a corner — and in a small fenced yard, a large beast lifted its head lazily.
It looked like a bull, but it was bigger, thicker, its horns curved backward like hooked scythes.
Its skin was a dark, shifting shade of blue, and its golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling awareness.
Dara's eyes lit up.
Without hesitation, she broke from Sion's side and rushed over, crouching by the fence.
"Aww," she cooed, reaching through the fence to scratch behind its massive ear. "You're so cute!"
The bull rumbled low in its chest — not a warning, but something closer to a purr.
Sion, several steps behind, stopped.
He narrowed his eyes.
A faint golden flicker passed through his irises — brief, almost invisible.
The beast looked back at him for a split second.
Held his gaze.
Then lowered its head submissively and walked away.
Sion said nothing, just slid his hands back into his pockets and kept walking.
The elder chuckled warmly. "That one likes you," he said to Dara.
"Who wouldn't?" Dara grinned, dusting off her hands as she rejoined Sion.
They continued.
The elder led them to a broader plaza near the far side of the village, where several vacant houses stood, their doors covered in intricate symbols woven with silver thread.
He gestured to one of the larger houses — a comfortable, clean-looking building with an open veranda.
"This will be your home," he said. "For as long as you wish it."
He bowed low again.
"We do not rush the Chosen.
Decide at your own pace."
With that, he turned and departed, leaving them alone under the rising sun.
Sion and Dara stood there for a few seconds in silence.
The warm wind whispered between them.
Finally, Dara broke the silence, voice light:
"...So. King and Queen, huh?"
Sion didn't answer right away.
He stared out over the village — the humble houses, the blue-skinned people, the broken sky above.
His expression unreadable.
Finally, he said:
"They're dying."
Dara blinked, startled.
"What?"
Sion turned to face her.
"The Petal is killing them. Slowly. Quietly. It's draining their lifespan."
Dara frowned, her usual playful air slipping.
"...You sure?"
Sion shrugged lightly. "I can feel it. It's subtle, but it's there."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Dara's gaze flickered — not to the village, not to the people — but to the memory of the artifact.
The Voidpetal.
Its beauty.
Its power.
She bit her lip thoughtfully, eyes gleaming.
"I want it," she said softly.
Sion raised an eyebrow. "Greedy much?"
Dara smiled — a little sharper than usual.
"It would sync perfectly with my second gift," she murmured. "The legends said the Seven Relics amplify the natural flow of power... the Voidpetal could make my second gift fully bloom."
"Your second gift?" Sion arched a brow.
"Hmm." She nodded. "Why do you think I trust your instincts so much?"
Sion smiled faintly.
He folded his arms, leaning casually against a pillar.
For a moment, he just studied her.
Then he said, voice low:
"We should steal it."
Dara's head snapped toward him.
For a second, she thought he was joking.
But he wasn't.
His eyes were calm. Icy.
Calculating.
Dara blinked. "...You mean run away with it?"
"No," Sion said simply. "I mean steal it. Take it before they realize."
"But—"
He cut her off with a glance.
"If we leave it, they'll die anyway.
If we take it, they might live."
Dara stared at him.
"Why though? Since they have had it with them for this long, it means they have managed to stand its absorbtion." She tilted her head slightly.
"This house was not always vacant." He gestured towards the house at their back. "So did most of this house."
He took a deep breath.
"My senses can cover the whole village. They are too many vacant houses. And with the rate of absorbtion...."
He left his statement unfinished.
"But most importantly, you want the flower..." He turned to face her. "And I am definitely not dropping my earring for them. Might as well steal it."
Dara stared at him. A sly smile crossed her lips—hiding the blush.
"You aren't just weird. You are also a bad boy."
----
The desert air screamed around them.
Sion clutched the reins of the massive bull-like beast as it thundered across the sand, every heavy stride shaking the earth. Behind them, a chorus of furious shouts rang out—the entire village giving chase, weapons glinting under the harsh sun.
On his back, Dara sat sideways, arms casually draped around his shoulders like she was lounging on a park bench.
Her death glare burned into the side of his head.
"When you said you would do it," Dara said sweetly—too sweetly—"I thought you had a plan."
"I did," Sion retorted.
"You call waltzing into the middle of the village, grabbing the Voidpetal in front of everyone, and running a plan?"
"What? I haven't exactly stolen anything before." Sion shrugged shamelessly. "If you think about it, you're a bad influence on me."
"You were the one who said we should steal it!"
"Why are we riding this bull anyway?" he asked innocently, dodging the accusation. "I can literally get us out of here in a flash."
"Because we stole it too," Dara said flatly.
"We?" Sion raised an eyebrow. "You mean you."
"Nope." Dara grinned wickedly. "Me... and my weird boyfriend."
Sion almost missed a step.
The words hit harder than any weapon.
He glanced sideways—and froze for a moment.
The wind whipped through Dara's pink hair, the light dancing in her eyes, the most gentle, genuine smile he had ever seen.
It wasn't teasing.
It wasn't mocking.
It was... real.
And it was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
The world around him seemed to slow—the roaring villagers, the galloping bull, the burning desert—they all faded.
It was just her.
Just Dara.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"You said I was immune to emotions," he murmured, voice barely audible over the wind.
"Huh?" Dara blinked, confused. "Yeah, I did. And you still haven't proven me wrong."
Sion smiled faintly.
"But... I'm actively doing that."
"What do you mean?"
He turned his head fully now, locking eyes with her.
"How can I be immune to emotions..."
A breath.
A heartbeat.
"...if I love you?"
The world slammed into silence.
Dara stared at him.
Mouth slightly open.
Eyes wide.
A thousand expressions flickered across her face—shock, disbelief, realization—and then—
Without warning.
She lunged at him.
"Kiss me, you weirdo."