The council chamber had emptied, leaving only scattered scrolls and the faint smell of candlewax.
The echoes of debate still clung to the walls, but now it was only the two of them—no distractions, no buffer between their truths.
Arasha stood before Kane, her cloak fastened high, her expression steady, though a flicker of hesitation lingered in her eyes.
"I'll be gone for a short while," she said, her tone deliberately casual, as if the weight of it could be lightened by the way she spoke.
"South. To visit Aunt Valmira at Steelhart Keep. I'm worried about her since she hasn't contacted me yet, even as the rifts disappear."
Kane's brow furrowed immediately, his body stiffening like a drawn bow. "Then I'll come with you."
Arasha shook her head gently, already anticipating the storm in his voice. "No. Not this time."
His jaw clenched. The shadows of memory flashed behind his eyes. "Why not?"
"Because," she said softly, but with firm resolve, "you watch me as though the moment you turn away, I'll slip from your grasp. I know why—you lost me once. That scar has never healed. But, Kane… if every step I take is shadowed by your fear, then neither of us will ever believe I can return on my own. You'll always live braced for me to vanish again."
The words struck like a blade drawn slow.
His lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
"I have reason to think that way, Arasha. The world took you from me before, and I couldn't stop it. Even now, with the rifts gone, I don't trust it. I don't trust what I don't see—the threats waiting in silence, the ones I can't prepare for. You work yourself until you collapse, you take burdens no one else can carry… and I can't—" His voice broke, raw for a heartbeat before he forced it steady. "I can't let it happen again. Not when I have the power to stop it."
Her sigh was quiet, almost weary, but her gaze never wavered.
"You're not wrong. I've burned myself out before—Leta told you, Garran complained, you saw it with your own eyes. But this journey is different. This one I must take alone. Not for Aunt Valmira, not even for duty. For me. To look into myself. To find answers that no one else can give—answers tied to my fate, my soul. If you come, your presence will shield me. And if I am shielded, I will not see what I need to see."
Kane's fists flexed at his sides, his whole body caught in the tension between fear and reason.
His breath came uneven, as though the chamber's air was too thin to sustain him.
Leta, who had lingered by the archway with Roen, finally broke the silence.
"Let her go," she said gently, her voice low but steady.
"This is the first time she's asked something like this. If you hold too tight, Kane, you'll break her wings. You'll make her cage herself for you, and that is not love."
Roen crossed his arms, tone more pragmatic.
"Besides, you've already made yourself her safeguard. If danger comes, she'll call you first—you've made sure of that. You'll know."
Kane closed his eyes, dragging in a deep breath that trembled on the exhale.
For a long moment, silence pressed between them, weighted with everything he could not say—that the thought of her slipping beyond his reach again hollowed him to the bone.
At last, his shoulders sagged. "…Fine. But only on one condition."
Arasha tilted her head, wary but patient. "Name it."
"You call me. Every night you're away. No exceptions. I don't care if it's a single word or silence itself—so long as I hear your voice."
For the first time in hours, Arasha's expression softened, her smile touched with warmth that pierced through his dread. "I promise."
The stern façade in his face cracked, his eyes betraying the tenderness he fought so hard to conceal, though unease still lingered in their depths like smoke after fire. "…Then go. But don't make me regret this, Arasha."
Her smile widened just enough to ease the heaviness between them, though not to erase it. "I won't. You'll see."
Yet, Kane's hand shot out before she could step away.
He pulled Arasha into his arms with a force born not of anger, but desperation.
His breath shuddered against her hair, his voice rough and frayed.
"You better not break your promise this time," he whispered, hoarse as if the words scraped his throat raw.
"You've broken it before… and even now, even with the rifts gone, I still see it—your death in my arms. I can't—" His words fractured, swallowed by the shadow of memory.
For in that instant, her warmth against him dissolved into ghosts.
His arms had held her too many times in the silence after breath.
His soul remembered what his heart could not bear.
Arasha's embrace pulled him back, steady and unyielding. Her voice cut through the storm like a clear bell. "Then let me give you a new memory," she said softly, firmly. "When I come back, Kane, I won't leave your side ever again."
Kane froze, torn between the ghosts of the past and the living fire in her now.
Slowly, he leaned back just enough to search her gaze.
What he found there was no fragile promise, no half-truth spoken to ease his worry—it was steel and fire, sincerity that could not be faked.
His chest tightened until breathing felt like tearing himself apart. But still, he forced himself to let go.
He squeezed her once more, a silent plea pressed into the gesture, then released her.
His hands lingered, brushing down her arms before falling heavy to his sides, useless without her in them.
Arasha gave him one last, quiet smile before adjusting her cloak. Without another word, she turned and walked on.
Each step away seemed to echo louder in his skull than the last.
She mounted her horse, her figure growing smaller with each pace, dissolving into the horizon until at last it vanished.
Kane stood rooted, staring long after she was gone, as though sheer will might hold her within sight, as though if he blinked, she might fade like the phantoms of memory.
His chest burned with the ache of restraint.
Hope was all he had left to clutch—hope that this time would be different, that the ghosts would remain ghosts, and that she would come back breathing, smiling, alive.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
Garran's voice rumbled low, steady, certain. "It'll be alright. She'll come back—you'll see. Besides…" A sly grin tugged at his mouth. "This is the perfect time for you to plan your proposal."
Kane's head snapped toward him, color rushing to his face. "Wha—?"
Garran only chuckled, unbothered by his sharp tone. "Don't look so shocked. You've been thinking it. Everyone can see it."
Kane turned away, ears burning, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. And yet, despite the shadows clawing at him, a reluctant smile crept to his lips.
Garran was right. When she comes back… when she truly comes back… I'll be ready.