Lily
I'll be gone," I told Elis softly, "but… I'll still be here."
His brows drew together instantly. "What do you mean?"
I took a steady breath. "I'll have to clone myself."
For a moment, he just stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Clone yourself?"
"Yes," I said, my voice low but firm. "The real me will be gone, but the shell will remain; wearing my clothes, walking through the palace corridors, talking, maybe even laughing at the right moments, engaging in simple conversations. Enough to fool anyone who might notice my absence."
His mouth fell open. "You can do that?"
A small smirk tugged at my lips. "I can."
He leaned back slightly, as if reassessing me. "You're no longer a small witch, then," he teased.
I chuckled at that, though the sound felt thin in my throat. "I have to leave myself behind, Elis. If people realize I'm gone from the palace, it will raise questions… and worse, suspicions. And suspicions lead to danger—not just for me, but for us."
He nodded slowly, but I could see the unease settling in his eyes.
"There's a problem, though," I admitted, my voice dipping. "Cloning myself isn't simple. It comes with… high risks. I'll need to split my awareness, to watch over the shell constantly, to make sure it doesn't wear out or get attacked. If anything happens to it, if it's destroyed, it could maim me for life. I might never recover."
His jaw clenched, and he stepped closer until his shadow fell over me. "Then I'll watch over it," he said firmly, no hesitation in his voice. "With everything I've got."
Something inside me eased at his promise, but my heart still pounded. The magic I was about to attempt was dangerous. The thought of being away from him for months was dangerous in its own way too, but I had no choice.
Elis's mouth curved into that maddening half-smile of his.
"Then spend the night with me," he said softly, "leave another part of you in here… something to keep Tika alive while you're gone."
The teasing in his voice made my heart stumble.
"Elis, I can't. I still have things to prepare before…"
He cut me off with a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. "No excuses, Lily." He stepped closer, his presence filling the space around me until I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. "You've already told me I can't see you for three whole months. You think I'm going to let you leave tonight without giving me something to remember?"
Before I could gather another protest, his hands were on my waist, firm but unhurried, guiding me back toward the bed. The look in his eyes… gods, it was a tether, pulling me in no matter how much my mind screamed about unfinished spells and lists still to complete.
He sat me down on the edge of the bed as though placing something precious. Then, with deliberate slowness, he straightened and began unfastening his robe. I should have looked away, should have, but didn't. His gaze stayed locked on mine, unblinking, dark with need and something deeper I couldn't name.
The heavy fabric slid from his shoulders, pooling soundlessly to the floor. My breath caught. It wasn't just the sight of him, all lean muscle and dangerous grace, it was the way his expression softened as if he'd stripped away more than cloth, as if I was the only one who could see him like this.
"Stay," he said again, quieter now, but it wasn't a plea. It was a command, wrapped in velvet and steel.
And gods help me… I wanted to obey
That night, Elis held me as if letting go would make me vanish into the air.
We poured ourselves into each other, not just with touch, but with every whispered word, every unspoken vow. His hands roamed my skin with a reverence that felt almost like prayer, and I memorized the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath, the rhythm of his heart beneath my palm.
It felt like our last night together… and perhaps, in some ways, it was.
Between kisses, I found ways to weave my warnings into the softness of my voice.
"Elis," I murmured against his lips, "I'm afraid the palace is already crawling with enemies. Shadows in familiar shapes. You must be careful, more careful than you've ever been."
He cupped my face, searching my eyes. "I'm always careful."
"No," I whispered, "you must be more than careful. My clone will be here to keep the pretense but… she will not seek your bed. If anyone comes to you—anyone—looking and sounding like me, don't let them near. No matter the pressure… or temptation. Resist."
He frowned, his grip tightening around my waist. "Lily…"
"I mean it," I cut in, my voice firmer. "Zal may try to lure you into a fight. If you go to war while I'm away, it will pull me out… end my training… and everything we've worked for will be lost."
His brows drew together, a storm gathering in his eyes. I pressed my hand against his chest. "If you're in danger… if your life is seconds from ending… call my name. Not Lily."
"What then?" His voice was a mix of defiance and desperation.
I leaned closer, my lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Solfrai. That's my name in the spiritual realm. Call it, and I'll come. If you call Lily… they will hear too. And they will find you."
He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. I could feel the war inside him, to demand I stay, or to trust me enough to go.
From the air between us, I summoned the necklace—a thin silver chain with a pendant that shimmered faintly with a light not entirely of this world. It hadn't existed a breath ago, but now it gleamed in my palm. Without explanation, I clasped it around his neck, the charm resting against his collarbone.
"Never take this off," I ordered. My tone left no room for argument. "If Zal comes close to you… this will stop him."
His fingers rose to touch it, his thumb tracing its shape. "What is it?"
I held his gaze. "I'll explain when the war is over. For now, take my word—and do everything I've said."
Silence stretched between us, thick and aching.
"Wait for my return," I whispered.
His eyes searched mine like he was trying to anchor himself to them. "Promise me… you're coming back to me."
I pressed my forehead against his. "I will come back to you."
I kissed him then, not like a goodbye, but like a seal on a promise. And when we made love again, it wasn't frantic but deliberate, sacred. Every touch was a vow. Every breath was a plea. And when sleep finally claimed us, it felt like we had bound our souls so tightly that no force in this world or any other could tear them apart.