The Silence Between Heartbeats

True Love's Kiss
The petals beneath his knees rustled as Alexander remained crouched beside her, eyes locked on the slumbering form of Aurora. He turned slowly, lifting his head to meet the fierce gaze of Elara. Her grey hair caught the sunset like strands of moonlight, her arms folded, eyes burning with distrust. Around her, others had gathered. Morpheus's cloak billowed as he stepped forward. Soraya, her face stern and mouth drawn in tight disapproval. Malakai stood beside Daphne, who tilted her head curiously, the gemstone on her forehead catching the golden hues of the sunset. Estelle's sharp eyes glistened with suspicion. Lucian and Flora flanked the group, more witches trickling into the field, drawn by tension like moths to a flame.

"Answer me, traitor," Elara repeated, much louder. Her voice carried across the clearing. "What are you doing here?!"

Daphne leaned closer to Malakai and whispered, "Who is he?"

Malakai's jaw tensed. "Alexander, the Crown Prince of Edralis. He came to us under the false name ‘Sebastian’. Hid what he was. Lied about his true allegiance."

Daphne blinked in disbelief, her eyes flicking to Alexander with new clarity. Her lips parted slightly. "He’s a witch too?"

Malakai nodded gravely.

Behind Elara, Soraya narrowed her gaze, her fingers twitching at her sides as if itching to summon flame. "You better start talking before we send word to the King and Queen that an enemy of our kind has has breached the borders of Bellaflor."

Alexander raised his hands in surrender, his voice calm despite the fire in his chest. "Please... I come in peace. I swear. I’m not here to harm anyone. I heard about what happened to Aurora and I’ve been waiting for the right moment to come here. To find her."

Morpheus stepped forward, his boots crunching the flowers. "To find her? Why? Is it to spy on us? Or to finish what your kingdom started? Come to kill her yourself?"

"No!" Alexander's voice rang out, fierce and raw. "Never. I would never hurt her. I came because I know how to wake her."

A ripple of murmurs broke through the crowd. Gasps, scoffs, disbelief.

"Liar!"

"Another trick!"

"Get him out of here!"

One of the leaders of the other sanctuary, Flora, stepped forward, her emerald vines slithering protectively around her limbs. She looked doubtful. “You expect us to believe you hold the secret to breaking an enchantment put on Aurora by the blackest of magic?”

Daphne’s gemstone glowed with soft light as she studied Alexander. The light reflected in her violet eyes as she tilted her head. "And what, may I ask, could possibly wake her? What magic could you have access to that we haven’t already tried?"

Alexander shifted, swallowing. He recognized her instantly now—a Serenyor. Empath. Truthsayer. Her magic would see through any lie.

He breathed in deeply, the air thick with suspicion and wildflowers. Then, with every nerve lit by conviction and his heart hammering against his ribs, he said, "True love’s kiss."

Silence.

A deep, profound pause. Then the laughter began. First a chuckle from Estelle. Then another from Lucian. Flora slapped a hand to her forehead, groaning. Then more laughter erupted from some of the gathered witches. Sarcastic, incredulous and mocking.

Morpheus stepped forward again, his movements sudden and sharp. He gripped Alexander by the jaw, forcing his face up. His own narrowed eyes searched for even a flicker of deceit. "You think we’re in the mood for games, boy? You think we haven't tried spells older than the stars themselves? We’re not here to play fairy tales, Your highness.” He said in a mocking tone.

“You think you can saunter in here, speak some nonsense about love, and we’ll just let you put your filthy, bloody hands on her?”

He turned, barking an order. "Alert the King and Queen. Tell them the Crown Prince of Edralis has broken through our borders."

Two witches moved immediately to obey, but Alexander cried out.

"Stop! Just listen to me!"

The crowd stilled again. Eyes narrowed. Elara didn’t speak, but neither did she stop him.

"Just give me a chance. If it doesn't work, you can do whatever you want with me. Lock me away, exile me, kill me, I don't care. But please, let me try."

Flora stepped forward again, her green hair braided with ivy, skin painted in hues of spring. The flowering vines that wrapped around her arms, twitched with her fury. "Even if true love’s kiss could wake her, why would it be yours? You, who betrayed her. You, who hid behind a mask while humans burned your own kind. You were only protecting your own skin, not ours. Why would we believe your love is true?"

Alexander met her gaze, no anger in his eyes. Only sadness. And fierce, burning love.

"Because I put myself in danger for her. Over and over again. I led her to safety when she was being hunted. I helped her find your sanctuary before the witch hunters could get there first. I could have turned her in a hundred times, and I didn’t. You think Edralis wouldn’t demand my head if they knew what I’d done? I risked everything for her. I’ve risked everything—my life, my crown, my soul—for her.”

He paused, stepping closer to Aurora.

"I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again." His voice dropped to a tremble. "I love her. Not because she’s powerful. Not because she’s the God Witch. But because she’s Aurora. The girl who puts everyone first before herself. The girl who taught me how to see beauty in the strangest places. I love her when she challenges everything I thought I knew. I love her even when she makes me question if I’m strong enough to stand beside her. I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if she’d want me near her if she wakes up. But I do know I’d rather die trying to wake her than live a thousand lifetimes knowing I didn’t.”

Silence blanketed the clearing. Even the wind seemed to have paused.

Alexander dropped to his knees beside Aurora, his knees sinking into the sea of petals. Slowly, reverently, he reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was cool, too still. He memorized the shape of her jaw, the curve of her brow, the golden strands of her hair glinting beneath the sun.

His hand trembled as it traced the edge of her lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, just for her. “For everything. But if there’s any part of you still listening, still holding on… come back to me.”

Morpheus took a step forward again, rage twitching behind his eyes. He was ready to stop Alexander but Elara reached out and stopped him with a single touch. Her eyes, wide and unreadable, were fixed on Alexander.

“Wait,” she said softly. “Let him.”

The crowd quieted. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Hundreds of witches stood frozen in that golden field of flowers as Alexander leaned down. His heart thundered in his chest. Every muscle braced. Every thought focused on the girl before him.

Alexander leaned closer, lips inches from hers. He closed his eyes.

And then, with all the tenderness of a vow, he kissed her.

A kiss full of hope. Of grief. Of desperate love.

It wasn’t rushed or showy. It wasn’t forced or demanding. It was soft, intimate, and slow—like a prayer given form. It was a kiss from someone who truly believed in the girl before him.