We eat in silence for a while. The fire crackles, the scent of the cooked meat thick in the air, but I barely taste it. My mind keeps circling back to something else.
Energy manipulation.
The Glowranth can do it—I’ve seen a couple of the ones who joined the Riftborn cause use it. It’s different from what I know of tech, different from magic too. Rawer. And now, with the bond partially formed, I can’t help but wonder….
I clear my throat. “So. Your… abilities. The energy manipulation thing.”
Kael pauses mid-bite, blinking. Then, to my surprise, he brightens. Not physically—though his markings do shift slightly, his bioluminescence flickering a little more vividly—but his whole presence changes. Like he wasn’t expecting the question but is eager to answer.
Almost happy about it.
“It’s… difficult to explain,” he says, setting his food down. “We don’t see energy the same way humans do. To us, it’s a current, a force that can be shaped. We train from childhood to harness it, to use it in combat, in construction, in healing. It’s….” He hesitates, searching for the right words.
I watch, fascinated despite myself. This is the most open I’ve ever seen him.
“It’s a part of us,” he continues. “Like breathing. We draw it from our bodies, from the world, and wield it.”
I frown. “Like how?”
Kael lifts a hand, palm up. At first, nothing happens. Then a faint shimmer appears just above his skin, like heat distortion. It twists and shifts, slowly forming into a crackling sphere.
My breath catches. It’s not fire. Not electricity. Something between. The sphere pulses once, then vanishes in a flicker of energy.
I exhale, realising I’d been holding my breath.
Kael watches me carefully. Too carefully. Like he’s gauging my reaction.
I try to keep my voice even. “And humans? If… if a human and a Glowranth… complete the bond, do they—” I don’t finish the question. But I don’t have to. He understands.
Hope flares in his luminous eyes, so sudden and raw that my stomach bottoms out. I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have let him hope.
And fuck me, I shouldn’t want to comfort him.
But I do.
I want to reach out, touch him, say something that makes that vulnerable look in his eyes hurt less.
I don’t.
Can’t.
Kael shifts, the light of the fire casting shadows across his sharp features. He exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his words with care. “I don’t know.”
I blink. “What?”
“I don’t know if you’d gain any of my abilities,” he clarifies. His markings pulse faintly, a slow, steady rhythm. “There are no bonded Glowranth. Not in this lifetime, anyway.”
I nod, knowing that fated mates, or having the ability to have one, wasn’t possible for his species. “Until me and Dawson.”
He hesitates, then says, “The ability to bond—the way it’s meant to happen—stopped over seven generations ago.”
“So, your species used to have fated mates?” I ask.
“Yes.” Kael’s voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper. Resignation, maybe. “The old records—the Kezthran Archives—mention fated mates, but only amongst other Glowranth.”
I tilt my head, absorbing that. “Not surprising, I guess. There’s no recorded history of the rifts, right? No proof that other species ever got pulled into your world before now.” Because that’s something we’d know about, right?
He nods. “Exactly. All Glowranth can manipulate energy, so there was no way to tell what… exchange happened between mates back then.” His voice turns contemplative. “Though it’s said that bonded mates could communicate without words.”
