The roaring falls helped ease Keshiema's simmering anxiety, but the longer Dásos slept, the more her fears piled up. Several times she examined him for wounds she could heal, each time finding nothing of note. As the sun crept below the falls, Dásos finally stirred. "Fate and Chaos," he cursed, holding his head. 'You shouldn't have overworked yourself.' he thought as he rubbed his eyes.

  When his vision cleared, he took Keshiema's hand and kissed it gently, making her flush. "Your star is gone," he said, his voice thick with concern.

  "Eury had an incident with a tiger. The wounds were fairly deep." She rubbed her forehead, at least the chills bothered her less since her demonic awakening. 'I wonder if it's the ice-daemon heritage.' she pondered.

  "how long was I out?" Dásos asked, surprised Eurynome was already hungry enough to attack a tiger.

  "Just a day." Keshiema ran her hand through his hair. "Cress helped me move you." She offered Dásos a small handful of acorns from the Tree of Life, which he graciously accepted.

  "I'd rather he not do me any favors," he remarked before summoning a mug. As he dropped the acorns in, they liquified into a steaming dark liquid, save for the last few which turned into fresh cream. "I'd kill for some real coffee," he frowned after taking a sip.

  "He was doing me a favor, not you." Keshiema took the mug from Dásos and gave the drink a try, regretting it instantly. "Gross."

  "Alright," he chuckled, taking the coffee back. "I get he's your friend, but he's never going to like me."

  Resting on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, trying to tame her anxious thoughts, "He told me about Amai." Dásos tensed, fearful of what Cresil may have said to poison her against him. "But a while back, he told me you and I are a good fit. I don't think he hates you, he's just hurting from the loss."

  Swallowing his fear, Dásos wrapped his arm around Keshiema. "I suppose you're right. I did give Nergal someone's blood to help him hide his aura. In exchange, I received his blood to help me recognize him."

  Sitting up, she faced him earnestly, "Why help him at all?"

  "We shared a common goal," the horror in keshiema's gaze twisted in his heart like a searing knife. "Nergal was looking for a way to break the Primordial curse. ?ther carries his child."

  Accepting his answer, Keshiema backed down, understanding the lengths someone would go to to save the people they care for. She would do anything to have her family back. And although she was conflicted, the thought had crossed her mind that she might murder Tobias for caging Cresil.

  Sitting against a fallen tree, they watched the waterfall, lit by the waning crescent moon. Fireflies danced around them, the soft chirps of crickets filled the evening air. The evening song of the garden set an intimate atmosphere.

  Tugging Keshiema's hand, Dásos beckoned her to face him. With stars in her eyes, she leaned in for a kiss. Before their lips could meet, she pulled back. "How old are you, exactly?" Keshiema blurted out. His status as an immortal being made pinning his age troubling enough, but he often referenced ancient events. She was only twenty.

  "Oh, um, let's see." Dásos summoned a stick and drew in the sandpit at their feet as he thought aloud, "Not much happened for the first few billion years. We all just kind of slept in the void, waking up to check on everything every few thousand years. After celestials, humans, and demons developed we stayed awake for slightly longer spans, rousing more frequently too. Especially when Eden was created, as Fotiá fell in love.

  "But once the creator gods cursed us, I went back to sleep again until Bathin begged me to heal the Earth. Then áeras went and attacked everyone thinking I wanted revenge, so I slept again until a year or so ago. I did wake up to eat now and then." He thought for a minute, looking up at the sky. "In mortal time, I've been conscious for about eight thousand days."

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "So you're," Keshiema took his stick, "three-hu...ten...times two...another seven..." She mumbled as she scribbled out the simplified math. "You're twenty-two?"

  "Give or take a few months," He smiled at how adorable she was as the wave of relief washed over her. "Were you worried I was too old for you?"

  "Um, yeah, a bit." Keshiema smiled, fidgeting.

  "Good. I'm glad you're thinking about things like that. I want you to remember that out of the princes, Ipos is the only one who isn't thousands of years old. Even if they act childish, they've been around a very long time."

  Keshiema squirmed, uncomfortable with the topic. She liked Dásos, and thinking about being with anyone else made her stomach churn. But it was also good information to have in general. Demons aged about the same as humans for the first twenty or so years of their lives, but after that, the rate of maturity varied wildly depending on both power and mindset.

  "Anymore concerns or can I kiss you now?" He asked, caressing the tip of her ear. Pulling him in, she closed the gap between them.

  Her soulfire grew, warming her body. As their kiss deepened the heat intensified. Dásos broke away, moving to her neck. She moaned softly as he broke her skin with his razor sharp teeth.

  Tasting the blood, he tried to move away, worried he had hurt her, but she took his shirt and pulled him into another passion filled kiss. Her hand was hot as she placed it in his chest.

  Screaming, Dásos pushed Keshiema away and quickly tore off his shirt. The fabric ignited into flames as it hit the ground. Keshiema stared in horror at the handprint seared onto his chest. Her body froze, and her star flickered. Ice formed around her hands as her hair and eyes turned gray.

  "Kesh, please, calm down," Dásos begged, taking her frost covered hands and placing them over the burn. "Can you try to heal me?" He asked through his teeth.

  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she prayed desperately for her magic to obey, 'Please, just work!' Her essence dimmed and brightened, pulsing in rhythm to her erratic heartbeat. Shaking, she tried to focus on the world around her, desperately looking for anything to ground herself. "I, I can't," she stuttered between fast, shallow breaths.

  "Look here," taking her face, he guided her to look into his eyes. "Everything is going to be alright. Your essence and powers are adjusting to your awakened bloodlines. Just breath, slow, steady."

  Still gray, but calming down, Keshiema focused her aura. The lavender swirls were slow to form, and the scent of smoky lilacs was much too subtle. Finally, her powers obeyed, allowing her to call on her healing magic. The burn scabbed over, fading into a scar that slowly vanished.

  With the wound healed, Keshiema's body let go of the built up tension and she turned into a sobbing, hysterical mess. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried. "I don't know what's been happening. I should've been more careful. Please, I'm sorry!"

  Gently pulling her onto his lap, Dásos cradled Keshiema, placing his forehead against hers, "Hey, it's fine. I'm fine." He stroked her hair and continued to whisper soothing words until she calmed down. "This isn't the first time you've lost control of your power?" He asked, keeping his words soft. The last thing he needed was her to think he was accusing her of something.

  "Nothings been quite right since my Primordial awakening," she admitted, her voice hoarse from crying. "I don't know if the demon rites made it worse or not, they happened so close together."

  "Stars, we need Ezekiel," he huffed.

  "Are there no other Demon-Primordial hybrids?" She asked, the aching absence of belonging seeping into heart.

  "There are only five Primordials. Neró has many descendants, but they're all human. Fotiá has only been with Azura. Aéras was too obsessed with someone who never loved her. ?ther carries a half-demon, but Fate found her shortly before she would have given birth."

  "And you're sure you haven't had any children?" The question came out before she could think not to ask it. Keshiema felt sick, unsure why it would matter if he had, but the thought of Dásos loving someone else sparked a frighteningly powerful spell of jealousy.

  "I'm sure," He brushed her hair back. "I've been around as long as the others, but remember, I slept for millennia at a time, and once the others fell victim to the curse, I had even less reason to stay awake."

  "It must have been lonely," she lamented, absently brushing her fingers over his bare chest, tracing the lines of the golden hourglass mark above his heart.

  Taking her hand, Dásos lightly kissed her fingertips, "At times." He leaned back, and they rolled to their sides, their legs entwined.

  A scar on his shoulder stood out, it's shape unmistakable. "Who did this?" She asked touching the bite mark.

  "A Reaper," he stared deep into her eyes, hoping his answer would stay in her soul. "He was a close friend before it happened, and after he was too guilt-ridden to continue living. I've been where you are, Kesh, and I know from experience that when Reapers and Primordials socialize, no one comes out of it unharmed.