Scene: The Distance Between Stars

The days after that morning passed quietly — too quietly.

Lilith noticed it first in the little things.
The way Merlin stopped looking at her for too long.
How he found excuses to busy himself with maps and relics whenever she entered the tent.
How his laughter — once warm and full — now carried a shadow behind it.

At first, she told herself she was imagining it. That he was just tired, distracted. But deep down, she knew.

He was retreating.

That night, the group made camp by the ruins of an ancient tower. The stars shimmered through the hollow roof like broken glass. Lilith sat by the fire, tracing shapes in the dirt with a stick — spirals, runes, anything to keep her hands busy.

Merlin stood a few feet away, his cloak pulled tight, staring into the distance. His eyes were on the horizon, but his thoughts were far beyond it.

“Merlin,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer.

“Are you going to ignore me forever?”

That made him turn. His blue eyes glimmered with something unreadable — sorrow, longing, restraint. “Don’t be dramatic, Lilli.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since…” Her voice faltered. “Since that night.”

He said nothing, but the silence spoke for him.

“Was it a mistake?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Merlin exhaled slowly, as if the air itself weighed too much. “No. It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Then why are you acting like it was?”

He looked at her then, really looked at her — the streak of white in her dark hair catching the firelight, the defiance in her blue-purple eyes that reminded him of every star he’d ever wished on.

“Because I’m not supposed to love you,” he said quietly.

Her heart sank. “Who decided that? You? Or fate?”

He flinched, turning away. “You don’t understand. Every time I love, I lose. Freya. Arthur. Morgana. Every person I’ve ever cared for has paid a price for it. I won’t let that happen again.”

“You think I’m fragile?”

“I think you’re cursed,” he said, the words sharp, desperate. “And so am I.”

Lilith rose to her feet, fire flashing in her eyes. “Maybe curses are meant to be broken, Merlin. Maybe we could’ve done that together.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “You’re young, Lilli. You’ll find someone—”

“Don’t you dare patronize me!” she snapped, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Merlin’s resolve cracked — just for a heartbeat. He reached for her hand, hesitated… and then withdrew.

“I can’t,” he said, voice breaking on the words.

Lilith’s hand dropped limply to her side. “You’re afraid,” she whispered. “Not of curses. Of feeling something again.”

He didn’t deny it.

The wind rustled through the ruins, carrying the faint echo of her next words:
“I hope one day you regret pushing me away.”

Then she turned and walked into the darkness, her footsteps fading beneath the sound of the crackling fire.

Merlin stood alone beneath the ruined stars, torn between destiny and desire, knowing he’d just broken the only thing in his long life that still felt alive.