They say the heart needs time to decide, but her first yes comes in a moment—when she closes the space between them before thought can stop it.
~~~~~
KaanKuwar's energy clashes against the black string, again and again. He promised, And a dragon never breaks its word.
KaanKuwar screams, his Voice edged with command. "Let him go."
His eyes get wide. His hand lifts. Like a beast.
Stanzin's breath catches as he watches him move, Raw, unmistakably monster-like. He instinctively steps back. For a moment, something primal grips him—fear.
KaanKuwar's arm cuts through the air in one swift motion, sharp, precise like a force claiming its right.
The golden threads respond instantly.
They surge forward with him, expanding, flaring—colliding into the black string with a violent push.
For a moment—
everything strains.
Then—
the black string jerks back.
Not willingly—
but forced.
Pushed away.
The hold breaks.
And in that instant—
KaanKuwar exhales.
The golden breath flows forward, softer now—but no less powerful.
It wraps around the shapeshifter.
And releases him.
The shift is immediate.
The shapeshifter collapses to the ground.
The pain is gone.
But heavy and deep exhaustion remains.
"I feel…very tired…" it says, its shape changing again and again—unstable, fading.
"Because you were trapped for a very long time" KaanKuwar replies quietly.
He steps closer.
Then—without hesitation—
he takes the shapeshifter's hand.
Stanzin freezes.
Shock runs through him. How can someone… hold a spirit?
But KaanKuwar does.
Firm.
As if it is the most natural thing.
A faint glow begins to spread from his touch—soft and blue, different from before.
Gentler.
Warmer.
It lifts.
The dark weight around the shapeshifter begins to loosen. Slowly.... layer by layer, the heaviness starts to dissolve, as if something long buried is finally being released.
Time passes.
Quietly.
Gradually—
the changing slows.
The dark fades.
And what remains—
is a soul.
Grey.
Tired.
But free.
KaanKuwar lets it settle.
Then asks softly,
"Tell us your name."
A pause.
"My name…was… Kaartik…"
"How old were you when you died?" KaanKuwar asks.
"32…"
KaanKuwar nods, then turns slightly.
"Stanzin."
Stanzin steps forward immediately.
"He is Kaartik. Thirty-two. You can see him, right?"
"Yes…" Stanzin says quietly. "I can hear him."
"Good." KaanKuwar says.
"Perform a sacred release for him… so his soul can find peace and descend."
Stanzin nods.
"I will."
The soul looks at KaanKuwar.
"Thank you… thank you…"
KaanKuwar's expression does not change.
"No need," he says simply. "We made a deal."
And he turns away.
.
KaanKuwar enters Shaamvi's room.
The space feels quieter than before.
She lies resting, sleeping on the bed—pale, still, but breathing steady.
He walks slowly, careful not to make a sound.
Sits beside her.
And then—
he just looks at her.
For a moment, there is nothing else.
His gaze lingers... slowly, as if noticing her for the first time—not as someone he must protect, but as someone he just wants to look at without interruption.
Her face is calm in sleep.
Sweet.
Cute.
Unaware.
His eyes trace the small details—
the curve of her nose,
the stillness of her closed eyes,
the faint part of her lips,
the quiet shape of her brows resting without tension.
There is a kind of innocence in her.
But not weakness.
Never that.
Because beneath that stillness—
he sees something else.
His gaze shifts slightly—pausing at her forehead.
And there—
he sees it. With his dragon sight.
A faint glow.
The imprint of what she is.
He sees the echoes of souls she has helped— the ones she has guided,
the ones she has released,
the homes she has freed from evil.
It is not loud power.
It is peaceful and Steady. Earned.
And it draws him in more than anything else.
She is naive, yes—
but she is not fragile.
She is strong in a way that does not need to prove itself.
And that—
holds him.
For longer than he realizes.
Then He notices a small eyelash resting on her cheek.
Without thinking—
he leans closer.
Carefully.
His face inches toward hers, his breath quiet, controlled.
His fingers lift—just slightly—
to brush it away.
And suddenly—
her eyes open.
Time stops.
Their faces are too close.
Too close.
His hand still mid-air.
Her breath brushing against his skin.
Their eyes lock.
Neither moves.
Their hearts begin to pound—
fast.
Unsteady.
Loud enough to be felt.
"I… was… just…" KaanKuwar tries, his voice low, almost lost.
But the words don't finish.
Because Shaamvi moves first.
Slowly—
but surely.
She closes the distance.
And kisses him.