She stood there for a long time after that thought crossed her mind. It did not come like a loud decision. It settled in quietly, like something that had always been waiting for her to admit it.
The city lights flickered beyond her window. Voices echoed faintly from the streets below. Life was moving. People were laughing somewhere, arguing somewhere else, unaware that a war greater than swords was being fought in a single heart.
Maria pressed her palm against the cold stone beside the window. "Continuing this relationship feels wrong," she whispered, almost as if the walls could judge her. "Yet it is the only path that keeps me alive."
The words tasted bitter. Then the tears came. Not soft, not gentle. They came all at once, breaking through the strength she had worn all day. Her shoulders trembled. She tried to hold it in, but it slipped through anyway.
"I have to end this," she said again, this time louder, like she was trying to convince something deep inside her. "For the gods."
For a moment, she just stood there, breathing hard, wiping her face with the back of her hand. The warrior returned slowly. You could almost see it happen. The softness drained. The hesitation hardened into something sharp.
By the time she stepped away from the window, her face was set. No more tears. No more weakness.
Night came quietly, as it always did. And just like every other night, the forest waited.
But tonight felt different. Maria did not wear a gown. She did not hide herself in soft fabric or shadows. She wore her armour. Every piece fitted tightly against her body, cold and unyielding. The weight of it steadied her. It reminded her who she was supposed to be.
A warrior, not a lover.
She stepped into the forest slowly. Each footstep pressed into the dry leaves beneath her. The wind moved through the trees, carrying that familiar scent of earth and silence.
Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword. Not because she expected a fight. But because it felt like one was coming anyway.
She reached their usual place and stopped.
For a while, nothing happened. Just the sound of her breathing. The faint rustle of leaves. The distant call of night creatures.
Then, movement. A figure slipped through the darkness. Quiet. Careful. Familiar.
Drexo.
He stopped the moment he saw her. There was a pause. A long one. His eyes moved over her slowly, taking in the armour, the stillness, the way she stood.
"What is going on?" he asked, his voice low, confused. "You have always worn a gown, not this."
He stepped closer, cautious now. "Are you planning on fighting?"
Maria did not answer immediately. She moved instead. One step forward. Then another.
Each step felt heavier than the last. "I am here," she began, then stopped.
Her throat tightened. She swallowed and forced the words out. "I am here to have a serious conversation."
Drexo frowned slightly. There was something in his expression now. Not fear. Not yet. But something close.
"What is it with the serious tone?" he asked, trying to lighten it, but it did not land.
Maria opened her mouth, then closed it, opened it again.
Her eyes shut for a brief second, like she needed to gather every piece of strength she had left.
Then she said it. "We have to end this." The words fell between them.
Heavy, and unmovable.
For a second, Drexo did not react. He just looked at her. Studying her face. Searching for something. Maybe doubt. Maybe hesitation.
He found both. Instead of stepping back, he moved forward.
Slowly, and deliberately.
His hand reached her waist and wrapped around it, pulling her closer. Maria felt it immediately. That warmth. That pull. The thing she had been trying to fight all day.
Her body betrayed her first. Her breath shifted. "Stop this," she said, but her voice was softer now. Not as firm. "I do not want this anymore."
Drexo did not let go. If anything, he drew her closer.
Their faces were inches apart now. Her heart pounded. Loud. Too loud. "What were you saying?" he asked quietly.
Maria looked up. That was the mistake. His eyes. His face. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment.
It cracked something inside her. Everything she had built all day, it slipped. Not all at once. But enough.
"Nothing," she whispered, almost breathless. "Forget about it." And just like that, it was gone.
The resolve, the plan. The strength. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his.
The world disappeared. There was no prophecy. No war. No gods watching.
Just them.
The kiss deepened, urgent, desperate, like both of them knew they were running out of time but refused to acknowledge it.
The armour became a burden. It pressed between them, cold and intrusive. Drexo's hands moved, trying to pull her closer, but the metal resisted.
Maria let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, and began to remove it piece by piece. It felt symbolic. Like she was shedding the warrior she was supposed to be, and choosing something else entirely.
They sank to the ground together, the dry leaves shifting beneath them.
Time blurred.
Moments stretched and collapsed all at once. And when it was over, they lay there, side by side, breathing heavily.
The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.
Maria stared at him. Really stared this time. Like she was trying to memorise every detail.
Then she looked away. A small shake of her head. "I have accepted my fate," she told herself, the words silent but heavy.
"I cannot leave him." Her chest tightened. "I will gladly love him, and die."
The thought did not scare her anymore. That was the strange part. It felt calm.
Drexo reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Do not ever think of leaving me," he said, his voice low but firm. "I will not leave you either."
He turned slightly, looking at her. "I will love you, even if it leads to my downfall."
Maria did not respond. She just held his hand tighter. And for that moment, under the silent watch of the forest, they chose each other again.
Not because it was right. Not because it was safe. But because they could not do otherwise.