Inside were two rings. One forged of star-steel, braided with threads of white gold. The other a matching band, etched with runes of union and protection. Both shimmered faintly in the morning light, as though waiting to be claimed.
Auralia stared in stunned silence.
I let out a breath. "Well… I guess the gods have decided to speed things up a little."
Auralia reached first.
Her fingers hovered over the pair of rings, a breath catching in her throat. "They're… beautiful," she whispered. "But this feels like more than just a gift."
I nodded slowly. "It's a blessing. Or a challenge. Or both."
We stared at the rings, our thoughts loud in the silence. For all our courage in battle, all the horrors we'd faced… This was different. This was raw. Intimate. Permanent.
And then—
the room changed.
It was as if the world paused. The light dimmed into a warm gray, the very air folding inward like the breath before a storm. The velvet pouch, the stone walls, even the breeze through the window—all of it fell still.
And in the center of the room, standing where the priest had been only moments before,
a woman appeared.
Not walked. Not emerged. Appeared.
Clad in ethereal armor, the color of dawn-lit steel, she was radiant—her presence pulsed with strength, serenity, and something deeper. Her skin shimmered like polished bronze, and her eyes—bright and gold like sunfire—carried the weight of ages.
Aone, patron of warriors, goddess of oaths and protection.
We both instinctively straightened, our breath caught somewhere between awe and fear.
"You stand at the crossroads of many things," she said, her voice both a whisper and a bell. "Blood, shadow, fire, and love."
Her eyes passed between the two of us, pausing briefly on Auralia… and even longer on me.
"I have watched you, Warden. Struggled. Risen. Fallen. And you," she turned to Auralia, "Shadow-dancer. Child of secrets. Seeker of redemption."
She reached forward and, without touching, the two rings floated into the air between us.
"These are not simply tokens of affection," Aone said. "They are a pact. A warding. A bond stronger than steel or spell. They will anchor you to each other… but also to me."
A pause, as the light in the room pulsed gently with her breath.
"But I will not force your hands," she added, softly now. "If you take them willingly, you accept not just one another… but the path that follows. A path of loyalty, sacrifice, and divine consequence."
The vision began to dim at its edges, her form already flickering like smoke lit by sunrise.
"When you choose," she said, stepping backward into the veil between worlds, "know that you are seen."
And then—
The room snapped back.
The light returned to its ordinary warmth. The pouch lay open on the sheets. The rings rested exactly where we had left them.
Auralia's fingers trembled as she pulled them back from the velvet.
"Gods…" she breathed, wide-eyed, "she was really here."
I nodded, still stunned, the echo of Aone's voice reverberating in my chest like a war drum.
I looked at the ring meant for me. Then at her.
Then at the one meant for her.
Then back again.
"She gave us a choice," I said, voice hoarse. "But it's not a light one."
Auralia hesitated for a heartbeat longer, then took my hand and placed it gently over the ring between us.
"I've already chosen you, Eiran," she said. "Whatever comes next… I'd rather face it at your side than wonder what might have been."
The morning light filtered softly through the high windows of the temple's eastern sanctum. Golden rays spilled across the smooth marble floor, illuminating the simple altar and casting long shadows behind the three figures who stood there.
Auralia's hand was in mine — warm, steady, trembling only slightly.
The little girl we had saved, dressed in a borrowed tunic that hung a bit too long on her, stood off to the side. Her wide eyes flicked between us and the elderly priest who stood solemnly before the altar, his hands folded, his white robes gleaming in the early sun. She had insisted on holding Auralia's hand until the ceremony began, and now she clutched a small bundle of lavender picked from the temple garden.
No audience.
No music.
No fanfare.
Just us — two scarred souls, and one small witness.
"I am only a servant of the divine," the priest said, his voice a warm hush in the vast stillness. "But today, I am honored to speak the words that bind your hearts. Not as warriors, nor refugees, but as two who have chosen each other in truth."
He looked between us, and the gentlest of smiles creased the edges of his eyes.
"Do you, Eiran of the Wardens, take Auralia of the Whispering Shadow to walk beside you in light and in darkness, through all that may come?"
My voice caught for a moment, but I steadied it, clutching her hand a little tighter. "I do. In every way I can."
"And do you, Auralia of the Whispering Shadow, take Eiran of the Wardens to stand with you in blood and in grace, from this moment until your last?"
She didn't hesitate. "I do. With all I am."
The priest nodded, and gently lifted the rings from the small velvet pouch, still resting in his palm as if they carried their own weight — as if the gods still watched.
"Then let these rings be the circle that binds you. A promise forged not by steel or spell, but by will."
I took her hand again, slid the ring slowly onto her finger. My breath caught as it settled perfectly — as if it had always belonged there.
She mirrored the motion, and when her fingers brushed mine, I felt something pulse deep in my chest — something quiet, sacred… complete.
"By the eyes of the divine and the truth of your vows," the priest intoned, "I now bind you in sacred union. May your bond endure through fire, shadow, and time itself."
A moment passed.
Then the little girl let out a soft sniffle and clapped once, awkward and too loud, her eyes bright with tears.
We both laughed. Not because the moment wasn't serious — but because it was real. Because it was ours.
Auralia leaned in, her lips brushing my ear. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"
I turned to her, forehead resting against hers. "We already did."
And for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, the weight we both carried felt… lighter.