**Three days until Marcus arrives**
Kaelen woke to find himself in the medical bay, with no memory of how he'd gotten there.
"You collapsed," Lia's voice said from beside the bed. She looked exhausted but relieved. "After the cleansing ritual. Your body finally said 'enough' and shut down. You've been unconscious for six hours."
Kaelen tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Every muscle screamed in protest. "How bad?"
"Magical exhaustion, physical strain, and..." Lia held up her diagnostic runes. "Your Shadow Scar count hasn't increased, but the existing ones are stressed from maintaining the resonance armor under combat conditions. You need rest."
"Don't have time for rest. Marcus arrives in three days."
"Which is exactly why you need rest," Lia insisted. "If you burn yourself out now, you'll be useless when he actually shows up. Selene's orders: twenty-four hours of mandatory rest and recovery for both of us."
"Both of us?"
Lia showed him her arm. Her echo-scars had darkened significantly, now visible even in normal light. "The resonance armor takes more out of me than I admitted. I'm not at critical levels yet, but I'm approaching them. So we both rest, recover, and prepare for the final days."
It was frustrating but necessary. Kaelen forced himself to relax, accepting the healing draughts Lia provided and letting his body recover from the multiple battles and magical strain of the past days.
The warehouse was quieter than usual. Many Shadow Hunters were out finalizing defensive positions, coordinating with the City Council, running last-minute supply acquisitions. Those who remained moved with the focused intensity of soldiers preparing for a war they knew would be brutal.
Ronan visited in the afternoon, bringing news. "Seraphine escaped, but she's wounded badly. Our scouts tracked her to the docks—she commandeered a boat and fled north, probably to report to Marcus about our capabilities."
"So now he knows about the resonance armor," Kaelen said. "There goes our surprise advantage."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Ronan settled into a chair. "Seraphine saw you use it once, under specific conditions, for about ninety seconds total. She doesn't know your limits, your full capabilities, how you developed it. Marcus will get a report, but an incomplete one."
"Silver lining," Kaelen muttered.
"Take them where you can." Ronan pulled out a map. "We've fortified all four strongpoints. The tunnels are cleared and marked. Civilian evacuation is seventy percent complete—everyone who'll leave has left, and the stubborn ones have been moved to the most defensible districts."
"What's our total force strength?"
"Forty-three Shadow Hunters now, including recent arrivals. Another fifteen City Guard volunteers. Twenty guild mages who've agreed to provide defensive support. And..." Ronan's expression turned slightly amused. "A mercenary company called the Iron Fangs showed up this morning, claiming they owe the network a debt from seven years ago. Twenty hardened fighters, their own weapons and supplies, led by a woman named Captain Valdris."
"That's... over a hundred defenders," Kaelen said, surprised. "That's an actual army."
"A small army against a cult with hundreds of corrupted creatures and decades of planning," Ronan corrected. "But yes, we're less desperately outnumbered than we were. We might only lose three-to-one instead of ten-to-one."
"Your optimism is inspiring."
"I do my best." Ronan stood. "Rest. That's an order from someone who outranks you by virtue of being old and ornery."
After Ronan left, Lia climbed into the bed beside Kaelen—scandalous behavior that would have been unthinkable weeks ago, but now felt natural.
"Tell me something good," Kaelen said. "About the future. After all this."
"After?" Lia curled against him. "We find your sister. Set up a proper research facility to study Forbidden Artifacts safely. Maybe teach others about the resonance technique, turn it into something reproducible instead of just our weird ability."
"That sounds nice."
"We'd travel. See the parts of Aethor neither of us have visited. The Frozen Wastes, the Southern Jungles, maybe even cross the ocean to the Western Kingdoms." Her voice was soft, dreamy. "Just two people exploring, researching, living without constant danger."
"I like that future," Kaelen said. "Let's make it real."
"Deal."
They lay in comfortable silence until Lia's breathing deepened into sleep. Kaelen stayed awake longer, thinking about the future they'd described—a future that depended entirely on surviving the next three days.
*You create hope,* Soulrender observed. *For yourself, for her, for everyone. We wonder if that is strength or delusion.*
"Does it matter?" Kaelen asked silently. "If the hope keeps us fighting, if it gives us something to protect, isn't that enough?"
*Perhaps. We are a weapon. We understand destruction, not creation. But we observe that humans fight most fiercely when they have something to fight for beyond mere survival.*
"That's surprisingly philosophical for a cursed sword."
*We contain fragments of everyone who has ever wielded us. Their thoughts, their feelings, their philosophies. Three centuries of human experience, distilled into shadow and steel. We understand more than you might think.*
That was a disturbing thought Kaelen chose not to examine too closely.
The next morning brought Kaelen back to fighting shape. Not perfect—he still ached in places he hadn't known could ache—but functional. Capable. Ready.
Selene called a final strategic meeting. Everyone who mattered was there—Shadow Hunter commanders, City Guard captains, guild mage representatives, Captain Valdris of the Iron Fangs, and the core team.
"Marcus arrives in approximately sixty hours," Selene said without preamble. "We know his landing site, we know his forces, we know his ritual plans. What we don't know is his countermeasure to our defenses. So we prepare for everything."
She laid out the battle plan with clinical precision:
Phase One: Harassment. As Marcus's forces land, long-range attacks from concealed positions. Deny them an easy beachhead, force them to commit resources early.
Phase Two: Fighting Retreat. Draw Marcus's forces into the city where our defensive positions and home-ground advantage matter most. Make him fight for every street, every building, every inch.
Phase Three: Strongpoint Defense. Fall back to our four fortified positions, connected by tunnels. Force Marcus to divide his forces or waste time reducing our defenses while we strike from unexpected angles.
Phase Four: Decapitation. When Marcus commits to his ritual—and he will, that's his entire purpose—we strike with everything we have. Kaelen and Lia with resonance techniques, elite Shadow Hunters, every advantage we can bring to bear.
"This plan assumes he follows predictable patterns," Captain Valdris pointed out. She was a tall woman with scars and the bearing of someone who'd survived dozens of battlefields. "What if he doesn't cooperate?"
"Then we adapt," Selene said simply. "War never survives contact with the enemy. But having a plan gives us a framework to adapt from."
"What about the Forbidden Blades?" a guild mage asked. "How do we counter two of them simultaneously?"
All eyes turned to Kaelen.
"We don't," he admitted. "Not directly. Soulrender is powerful, but it's one blade against two. I can't match that kind of raw power."
"But," Lia interjected, "we can neutralize his advantage. The resonance armor protects against shadow magic—including Forbidden Blade attacks. If Kaelen and I can maintain it long enough, we can buy time for others to strike."
"How long can you maintain it?" Selene asked.
"Under ideal conditions? Maybe three minutes," Lia said. "Under combat stress, with Marcus actively trying to break it? Probably less."
"Then we make those minutes count," Ronan said. "Kaelen and Lia occupy Marcus. Everyone else handles his forces, secures the ritual site, and creates openings for the killing blow."
"Who delivers that blow?" Captain Valdris asked.
"Whoever's in position when the opportunity appears," Selene said. "This isn't about glory or heroes. It's about stopping Marcus by any means necessary."
The meeting continued for hours, every detail examined, every contingency planned. By the end, everyone understood their roles, their fallback positions, their objectives.
It wasn't a perfect plan. But it was the best they could manage with limited time and resources.
As the meeting broke up, Kaelen found himself cornered by Matthias, the defector.
"I want to apologize," Matthias said quietly. "For the trap. I should have realized Marcus would predict my defection."
"You couldn't have known," Kaelen said. "And the information you provided is still valuable, even if the delivery was messier than planned."
"Still. People got hurt because I was naive." Matthias looked old beyond his years, worn down by guilt and bad choices. "If there's anything I can do to help in the coming fight, any role you need filled—even if it's just carrying supplies or distracting enemies—I'll do it."
"Can you fight?"
"I was a mid-tier shadow mage before defecting. I've given up using shadow magic, but I still know how it works, how it's structured." Matthias met Kaelen's eyes. "I could help Lia with her purification work. Act as a consultant on countering Marcus's specific techniques."
"Talk to Lia," Kaelen said. "If she vouches for you, we'll find you a role."
That evening, Kaelen and Lia climbed to their rooftop spot one more time. Tomorrow would be day five—the penultimate day before Marcus arrived. After that, there would be no more time for quiet moments or stolen peace.
"I'm scared," Lia admitted. "Not of the fighting. I'm scared that we'll lose each other. That I'll watch you transform into a shadowfiend, or you'll watch me die from echo-corruption, or Marcus will kill us both and everything we've built will mean nothing."
"That won't happen," Kaelen said, though he had no way to guarantee it.
"You can't promise that."
"No," Kaelen agreed. "But I can promise that whatever happens, we face it together. No heroic sacrifices, no last stands. Just two people refusing to let the darkness win."
"Two people who are possibly insane for thinking they can stop a man with thirty years of planning and two Forbidden Blades."
"Definitely insane," Kaelen agreed. "But that's part of our charm."
Lia laughed, slightly hysteric, and kissed him. They stayed on that rooftop until the stars came out, holding each other, drawing strength from proximity and shared determination.
Tomorrow was day five.
The day after, Marcus would arrive.
And then everything would be decided—victory or annihilation, survival or doom, the future they'd dreamed about or oblivion.
But tonight, they had this moment.
And for now, that was enough.
*The storm comes,* Soulrender whispered. *We hope you are ready.*
"We have to be," Kaelen replied.
Because there was no other choice.
Not anymore.