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The Tarnished slowly opened her eyes in bed.
The light that greeted her was not the usual morning brightness, but a muted, yellow haze, as if the world had been overlaid with the faded tint of an old photograph. Her companion was asleep in her arms, breathing softly. The strawberry strands of Melina's hair rested against her forearm. Melina's body was light. In sleep, her face was peaceful. The moment she sensed movement, she stirred awake.
The Tarnished reached for the remote and switched on the television.
The news was reporting:
“This year marks the most severe wildfire season on record! Every summer and into early autumn, dry air leaves the wild forests vulnerable. As of July 13, there have been 2,128 wildfire incidents, burning 10,004,583 hectares in total. 734 are still active, of which 389 remain classified as out of control.”
“What a mess!” the Tarnished murmured. Though in a way, it meant there was every reason to stay home with her partner.
Melina seemed to think the same. She was never one for socializing, she far preferred to stay inside with a book. The two of them linked hands beneath the blanket. In the dim light, the Tarnished found Melina's lips, and Melina lifted her head to return a slow, sweet kiss. The Tarnished tasted fire, the scent of a candle just lit, or a match flaring for the first bright second. A hint of smoke clung to Melina's hair as well.
“Did you go outside?” the Tarnished asked.
Melina shook her head, “No.”
Her gaze drifted to the window. The smoke rolling in from the wildfires miles away, made the world feel unreal, as though it contained only the two of them. The Tarnished had assumed Melina had walked through lingering smoke, but this yellow haze of wild mountain fire had no scent at all.
“When you were asleep, I roasted some marshmallows,” Melina explained softly, “and made hot cocoa.”
The fireplace in the living room did indeed show signs of use. Melina always did things so quietly, the Tarnished hadn't even noticed her companion leaving their bed, or perhaps she had simply slept too deeply. Though Melina always claimed she didn't want to disturb her in the sleep, the Tarnished wished she would wake her up for snacks next time.
The Tarnished leaned her forehead to Melina's, and Melina didn't pull away. She traced her hand along the Tarnished's arm, cheek brushing against cheek. The Tarnished wanted another taste of marshmallows and cocoa on her tongue.
This house had originally belonged to Melina's mother, and later passed to her older brother. But he had already left, with his girlfriend, driving their car to the coast for vacation, departing just a day before the wildfire smoke rolled in. The Tarnished remembered Melina's mother, Lady Marika, that elegant, stately blonde woman, who always looked as though she carried a hint of weariness behind her poise. Whenever guests visited, she would look up from her stack of documents, retrieve a tray of warm cookies from the oven, and offer them with quiet grace.
People often said that, when Lady Marika was young, she sailed from an island across the seas, eventually becoming a small but respected local official. She kept a large deerhound brought from her homeland. And in a tone almost absentminded, she once told the Tarnished that the magnificent animal's sole assigned task was to guard the spare house key hidden beneath the living room rug.
As for Messmer, he was a peculiar guy. In high school, he had his grievances with their mother, locking himself in the basement, playing heavy metal, at full volume. The first time the Tarnished met him, he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, taking slow pulls from a vape. Yet, it did not take long for his nerdy nature to reveal itself... the same as Melina. Soon, the three all playing TRPGs together. When Messmer goes to university, he began dating a science prodigy named Rellana— the sharpest Dungeon Master the Tarnished had ever met, as soon as they start their campaign.
Melina had once said, good students must all love punky guys like her brother.
“So what does that make us?” the Tarnished complained, half-teasing. “Looks like I really am your bad influence.”
Melina laughed. She rarely laughed, when she did, she looked no different from any gentle-hearted girl. The Tarnished had seen the slight, amused curve of her lips; the soft, helpless laughter where she buried her face in her hands. To be tucked together beneath a blanket like this, foreheads touching, Melina's golden eyes flickering like tiny flames, the two of them letting go of every burden. Such moments were rare.
After a while, they got hungry, and they both got out of bed in search of something to eat.
Bare feet on carpet, the idea of just the two of them alone in the entire house felt almost thrilling. The Tarnished took cold pizza from the fridge and placed it into the microwave. Melina sat down on sofa, picked up their old session notes, and leafed through them while waiting.
They were partners in the TRPG game, just as in life. The Tarnished played a medieval fantasy warrior, while her best friend, Melina, a kindling maiden, bound to her as a guiding spirit. Their dynamic had always been adorable, Messmer and Rellana liked to tease them in game, whenever seeing a little spark between these two. But for various reasons, Melina's character had already been retired, waiting for the next campaign to begin. Everyone agreed it was a shame. Their cool DM promised the two would meet again... perhaps the Tarnished would discover a Minor Erdtree Incantation left behind somewhere just for her?
“We meet again. It seems you've returned with supplies, old friend. May your meal be a good one.” Melina whispered, her eyes not leaving the notes.
The Tarnished paused, with the pizza plate in her hands. It took her a moment to realize Melina was speaking in her character's voice. She laughed, amused.
She sat down beside Melina and lit the candle they used during game nights. The small flame imitated the warmth of a site of grace. When Melina retired her character, she had done so with ceremony, tearing the page in silence, letting the scraps fall into the fire. When the candle was lit again, a faint scent of ash lingered. Outside, wind dragged dried leaves across the sliding glass door. The sky, yellowed by distant fire, felt heavy and slow. In the dim room, the Tarnished leaned into Melina's arms and ate her pizza. Melina's clothes smelled of clean laundry, a scent both soft and calming. The Tarnished thought it suited her perfectly.
“I remember burning Leyndell,” the Tarnished said quietly. “We lit the Erdtree together. You sacrificed yourself for me. Why are you still here, standing before me?”
Melina answered, with her usual calm voice, “I don't know, old friend. I was ready to give myself to the flame. Yet here my spirit stands again. Perhaps the Erdtree's grace has pulled me back…or perhaps it is only chance.”
Then she took the Tarnished's hand, earnest, unguarded now in a way she rarely allowed others to see. “No matter the reason, if you'll have me, I will walk beside you. Until the end of your journey.”
The Tarnished exhaled, her words soft: “I have wanted to tell you so, so much. Each time I took your hand, it turns out to be more than just companionship. Whatever form the world we seek to save may take, without you in it, it will surely be a bleak one.”
Melina's gaze lowered. Warm, trembling:
“The feeling… is mutual. Traveling within your body all this time, I understand now. I was afraid to seek you first...Afraid you would reject me. If silence takes you, then let it take me too. You are the only voice I wish to hear in this world.”
The yellow light flickered across her face, and for a moment, she truly resembled the cloaked girl of their story. The Tarnished turned in her arms, Melina's hands circled her waist. They kissed. Slow, unhurried, the kind that needed no explanation.
“Will we always be together?” the Tarnished murmured against her lips.
Melina nodded. Then the Tarnished felt her cool hand slip beneath the hem of her pants, fingertips brushing bare skin.
“...Keep going,” Melina whispered near her ear.
“I want to be yours…”The Tarnished's breath trembled. Her voice carried a warmth that bordered on pleading.
Melina's touch moved with gentle certainty, easing the fabric down her hips. The Tarnished's body arched instinctively, baring the soft curve of her waist to the dim room. They settled into the sofa cushions together, unhurried. Melina let out a small laugh, relaxed, fond.
“You've always been mine,” she said, as if stating something obvious.
The Tarnished buried her face into Melina's shoulder, began undoing the buttons of her shirt. The heat in the house felt heavier now. Their skin felt too warm. Outside, the haze thickened, visibility falling even further. The world beyond the glass faded into a yellow blur. On days before the smoke rolled in, Melina would also stare out that same window, expression distant. She never seemed to be looking at anything in particular, simply… somewhere else. Like the girl in their story who once walked willingly toward the fire. A heart living in a place no one else could follow.
But here, her body was warm. She was not leaving.
“I'd love you,” the Tarnished said quietly, “in ways no one ever has.”
Melina's smile deepened. “Still roleplaying?”
The Tarnished shook her head.
“Then… good,” Melina murmured. “If you truly know how to love… maybe you'll save me, too.”
Her hands were firm when she lifted the Tarnished and lowered her back into the cushions. Their bodies aligned, skin to skin, the Tarnished's chest rising with shallow breath. Her breasts was small, softer than average, delicate beneath Melina's touch. Her companion always lingered there first, as if drawn by instinct. She kissed the Tarnished's throat, slow and deliberate, leaving faint marks along the pale skin. The Tarnished trembled, not in fear, but anticipation.
Melina's palm moved to her waist, patiently waiting, letting her companion settle into the moment before deepening the touch. She could be soft, but when needed, she could also be unwavering. The Tarnished loved her for that. Melina held her wrist gently, guiding her into stillness as she kissed her, mouth warm and steady, her other hand moving lower. The Tarnished clung to her partner, as heat rushed through her body, shuddering against Melina's chest, when the first wave took her.
When her breathing steadied, they stayed like that. Noses brushing, sharing the same slow, warm breath. Their kiss afterward was longer. Deeper. Quiet.
The Tarnished was sensitive. Melina withdrew her fingers carefully, slow enough not to hurt her. She wiped the excess moisture along the inside of her thigh, which only drew another soft, startled sound from the Tarnished's lips.
The Tarnished rose from the sofa without bothering to cover herself. Melina followed. Outside the windows, the valley lay empty, no neighbors close enough to see, only the blurred treeline disappearing into smoke in endless horizon. The Tarnished stopped at the French window. Melina wrapped her arms around her from behind, breathing into her hair. The Tarnished linked their fingers together and stared out at the yellow sky.
She remembered the Erdtree burning. Air thick and gold, just like now.
Melina's grip tightened around her arm, guiding her forward until her soft chest pressed softly against the glass. The cool surface met her skin, her breath fogging the window. The Tarnished gasped. Melina stepped closer, body molding behind hers, nowhere to escape, nowhere she needed to. A warm hand brushed up her thigh, and the Tarnished could only whimper softly when Melina's fingers take her again, slow, steady, familiar.
“This is what we did,” Melina whispered against her ear.
The Tarnished understood. The wildfire smoke, the burned world, the two of them, conspirators of flame. The thought made her laugh, smiling into the glass.
Melina kissed her cheek. The world outside continued to dissolve, leaves drifting, sky flickering, everything falling apart except the warmth between their bodies.
“My beautiful Tarnished,” Melina murmured, voice low and certain, “the world burns around us, yet all I wish is to gaze at you.”
Already sensitive from before, the Tarnished came easily in the embrace of her companion, her breath catching, body arching, warmth spilling through her in waves. The glass bloomed with a fogged imprint of her bare skin.
Melina looked satisfied.
The Tarnished's body trembled from the lingering aftershocks, breath still uneven. Melina found her hand again, their fingers intertwined, the same way they always had, and guided her toward the bathroom to clean up. Halfway there, the Tarnished had already recovered. She wrapped her arms around her companion from behind. Melina laughed, a quiet, surprised sound, and touched her arm in return. The Tarnished slipped her thigh between Melina's legs and immediately felt how wet her partner was... how easily she, too, came undone. Heat gathered along the inside of Melina's thigh, a slow trickle. She blushes.
“I'm fine,” Melina murmured, gently. “You don't need to worry about me.”
But the Tarnished didn't release her. Her hand slid down Melina's arm, and closed implicitly around her wrist. The faucet opened with a soft rush of water. Steam filled the bathroom, blurring tile and glass. No lights, only the muted gold from outside and the sound of water running, bathroom fan humming in the background.
Their hair darkened and clung to their skin as the warm spray soaked them. Breaths overlapped, foreheads touched. Then they kissed again, slow, lingering. Melina rested her forehead in the hollow of the Tarnished's collarbone and let out a small laugh that vibrated against her skin.
The Tarnished held her carefully, almost reverently.
“Let me take care of you,” she whispered. "A warrior should repay her guide.”
Melina tried to look away, but the Tarnished's eyes were earnest. Gentle. Unavoidable. Melina didn't object.
The Tarnished led her to sit at the corner of the tub, leaning back against the cool wall. She lifted one of Melina's legs, settling to her knees in the space between them. In the softened light, Melina's face glowed faint and warm, cheeks flushed, lips parted.
The Tarnished looked up at her, as though she was looking at something sacred. Her hands slid along her partner's thighs, slow and steady, learning each line of muscle and softness. Melina's limbs were long, like some kind of fairytale, her silhouette graceful in a way that had once reminded the Tarnished of her mother, Lady Marika. They had seen each other's parents before; they had grown up at the edges of each other's lives. Once, Melina had traced the Tarnished's eyebrows with a makeup brush, in the backstage of a high school performance, she murmured the same thought. You look like your mother.
“Wait… you don't have to—” But by the time Melina spoke, the Tarnished was already leaning in.
The breath caught in Melina's throat, low and unguarded. The water traced down her neck, along her ribs, pooling in the curve of her hips. The Tarnished's mouth was warm, deliberate, earnest, not rushed. She held Melina's thigh gently, grounding her, while her tongue moved slowly, rhythmically, with purpose.
Melina's head tipped back against the wall, her breath scattering. The sound of water, the fog of steam, and her unsteady breathing became indistinguishable. The Tarnished was careful, but bold. There was pure devotion in every movement. Melina reached out, first blindly, until her hand found the Tarnished's. Their fingers threaded together again. Then Melina's other hand cupped the side of the Tarnished's face, thumb brushing her damp cheekbone. Her voice trembled. The muscles in her legs tightened, then loosened as the warmth broke through her. Her breath unspooled into soft, aching sounds. Afterward, she licked her lips with satisfaction...
The Tarnished rose slowly. Her legs tingled from kneeling too long, but she didn't mind. She leaned in, bracing her palms on either side of Melina, and kissed her deeply again. Wet skin pressing each other. Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the steam. Melina's hand slid along her companion's back, almost maternal in how she held her.
They eventually washed themselves properly.
The bathroom windowsill was cluttered with bottles, some almost new, some half-forgotten. Most belonged to Lady Marika. Elegant brands, expensive, yet abandoned without care. Messmer preferred sharp, metallic scents, dark packaging with bold typography. The Tarnished picked up the big brother's shampoo, the one with the serpent-shaped dispenser. She squeezed a little into her palm. Melina tapped her wrist lightly: He doesn't like people touching his things, she said wordlessly. The Tarnished only grinned, smelling the palm of her hand. The scent was rich, something like melting lava.
Melina's own toiletries were placed modestly in the corner, just simple brands, but they smell really nice, leaving only the clarity of clean skin. The Tarnished always used hers whenever coming to Melina's. She wanted to smell like Melina.
Steam filled her head, made her drowsy. And then she remembered the first time she ever fell asleep on Melina's shoulder.
When they were just 9 or 10, The Tarnished had been sitting stiffly in this same house, too timid and scared to touch anything. Lady Marika had brought out fruit and snacks that felt too luxurious for her at the time, then asked if she wants to borrow some of Melina's DVDs. The TV played an old cartoon with fainted noises. When Melina finished her homework that day and sat beside her, the Tarnished had leaned against her without meaning to.
And Melina had smelled like this.
The Tarnished smiled without realizing. Melina nudged her foot beneath the water to bring her back.
“How long until they come back?” the Tarnished asked, she is referring to Messmer and Rellana.
“A few weeks,” Melina answered, glancing at the window.
Which meant— this world of only two of them would continue. The Tarnished practically glowed.
“When we roleplay again,” she said suddenly, “Rellana said she'll bring your character back into the story. Let's rehearse our reunion lines!”
Melina climbed out of the tub, drying her hair on the edge. The request made her laugh. “There's nothing to rehearse,” she said softly. Yet there was a faint shyness in her voice. "We have already met many, many times before now."
The Tarnished leaned on the edge, smiling. “Just once more, please, please? In the story, we meet by the water. I was dying, and you found me. Torrent chose me to be your partner. And then, we traveled together.”
Melina exhaled, a tiny surrender. She held out her hand:
“Greetings, traveler from beyond the fog. My name is Melina. I offer you an accord.”
The Tarnished did not hesitate to took her hand. Melina pulled her from the bathtub.
By the time they returned to the bedroom, the smoke outside had receded almost completely. The valley now lay beneath deep, gentle blue. One by one, the lights of the town flickered awake. The world had survived the burning.
The Tarnished held Melina in her arms beneath the blankets. Melina's breathing was soft against her shoulder, her arm loosely around her waist, the same way they always slept together, from since they were very young. The Tarnished watched her. Hoping that when she opened her eyes again, the world would still be like this. She hoped she would not live in a dream, no matter where her reality might land.
The TV no longer spoke of wildfires. Now it spoke of distant wars, new influenza and economic collapse. The Tarnished breathed in, and there it was again. The faint smell of fire. Warm. Eternal. Always beside her.
Her eyes closed. Sleep came easily.