Chapter 233: Beneath the Storm

Steam curled lazily above the wide tub, blurring the edges of the room and softening the glow from the hearth. The scent of herbs—rosemary and mountain mint—mingled with the faint sweetness of the oil Orion had poured into the water earlier. The warmth seeped into Sophia’s skin, loosening the stiffness in her shoulders and drawing a quiet sigh from her lips.

She leaned back against him, her head resting against his chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. His arms were draped around her, one tracing idle circles on her hand beneath the surface of the water, the other resting loosely around her waist. Every now and then, his lips brushed her shoulder—feather-light—sending tiny shivers up her spine despite the heat.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle ripple of water whenever either of them shifted. Outside, the wind howled faintly against the walls, a distant reminder of what awaited beyond the safety of the house.

Sophia tilted her head slightly, breaking the silence. "I still don’t understand why we have to stay indoors for three whole days," she said, her voice quiet but edged with curiosity. "It doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t the weather department be able to tell the exact day the storm will happen?"

Orion chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "Shorty, if the weather in Nirvana worked like that, half the things that have happened here would never have happened."

She frowned, twisting slightly so she could glance up at him. "You mean it’s that unpredictable?"

"That’s one word for it." He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb along the curve of her arm before continuing. "The weather here doesn’t obey rules. You could swear it’s clear one moment, and within an hour sometimes lesser than, the sky will open up and swallow you whole. I’ve seen it happen."

She turned back around, listening as he spoke. His voice was calm.

"The last time we thought we had the storm figured out," he said, "the weather keepers predicted it would hit on the first day. We prepared for it—reinforced everything, sealed the walls, stocked food. But the first day came and went without a single flake of snow. On the second, the skies stayed blue, and everyone thought the department got it wrong. So they stepped outside." He paused, his tone lowering. "The storm didn’t hit until the third day. By then, people were caught off guard. It was a blizzard that tore through half the pack. We lost homes. People were injured. Some didn’t make it." He paused then added. "Funny how we didn’t learn our lesson after that."

Sophia stilled in his arms, her breath catching at the quiet gravity in his voice. "It happened more than once?" she asked softly.

"Twice," he said. "After that, we stopped gambling with the weather. When the department says there’s a storm coming, we don’t wait to see if they’re right. We shut ourselves in and wait the days out. Three days might seem long, but it’s better than being buried under snow or torn apart by the wind."

She was silent for a while, letting his words sink in.

"So the storms here... they’re that bad?"

Orion hummed in response. "Yes, shorty. They’re that bad. They destroy everything in their way—even animals."

Sophia frowned, her brows knitting together. "Even the animals?"

He nodded against her temple. "Of course. When a Nirvana storm brews, every living thing runs for cover. The forests go silent. The skies empty. It’s nature’s way of warning us to stay in our burrows."

She fell quiet again, absorbing his words. For a long moment, she simply listened to the muted roar of the wind outside and the steady rhythm of his heart against her back. The warmth of the water was soothing, but the thought of the wildness beyond the walls made her uneasy.

"It’s strange," she murmured after a while. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

"What is strange?" he asked her.

"The way the houses in the pack are built. Is that because of the storms?"

He smiled against her skin. "Yes. When the pack first settled here, we built the houses the usual way—with wood, beams, and charm seals. It worked fine in the beginning. Until the first storm came."

Sophia glanced over her shoulder at him. "What happened?"

"A blizzard," he said quietly. "It came with wind that tore everything apart. After that, we decided we had to get creative. If the normal way wasn’t going to work then we’d come up with something else."

She listened, curiosity deepening in her eyes.

"We explored Nirvana, trying to find anything that could help us build homes that would be sturdier. And lucky for us, we found strange stones scattered through the valley—dark red, almost glowing under the frost. They were warm to touch even with how cold the weather was. So the builders tried them. Mixed them with timber, built the walls thicker, sealed the seams."

Sophia turned slightly toward him, her expression soft. "And it worked?"

"It did," he said, his thumb brushing her hand beneath the water. "Those bricks... no one really knows where they came from. That’s another mystery of Nirvana. We call them magma bricks though and they sell for a lot of money."

Sophia chuckled at that. "Let me guess, Tobias brought that suggestion?"

"Who else?" Orion asked with a laugh.

Sophia smiled faintly. "I am not surprised."

Orion’s fingers skimmed down her arm before tangling gently with hers under the water. "But enough questions for tonight, shorty. Question time is over."

She laughed softly. "What if I still have—"

He didn’t let her finish. His hand slipped beneath the water, firm and slow, and he leaned down until his breath brushed her ear. "No more questions."

Her protest dissolved into a small gasp as his mouth found hers.

The kiss was deep and unhurried. His lips moved against hers with a quiet intensity that made her forget what she’d been about to say. The warmth of the water pressed around them, the steam thickening as the fire crackled brighter, painting their skin in gold and amber.

The world outside faded—no storm, no cold, no questions—just the rhythm of two hearts beating too close to tell apart.