"It's the last day," I replied, settling onto the cushions beside his chair in the position that had become as natural as breathing. "Tomorrow we return to our separate lives."
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand finding my hair in the gentle caress that had become as necessary as water. "Are you ready?"
"No," I admitted, leaning into his touch like a plant seeking sunlight. "I don't think I ever will be."
"Then perhaps," he said softly, "we should make tonight count."
He drew me up into his arms, and I went willingly, desperately, like a drowning man reaching for shore. We came together with the tender desperation of souls who knew their time was measured, holding each other as if we could stop the sun's progression through will alone.
“I…love you," I whispered against his throat, tasting salt and the clean scent of temple soap.
"And I love you," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. "More than I thought possible. More than I was prepared for."
We sank onto the bed together, not with passion but with the quiet surrender of people who had found something precious and were about to lose it. His hands moved over my skin with reverent attention, asif memorizing every line and curve for the dark days ahead.
"Whatever happens tomorrow," he said, pressing kisses to my throat, my shoulder, the place where my heart beat wild beneath his lips, "remember this. Remember us."
"Always," I promised, and meant it with every fiber of my being.
We made love with the desperate tenderness of farewell, bodies speaking truths that words could never capture. And when we finally lay spent and clinging in the aftermath, the moon had risen full and bright beyond our window, calling us toward the ceremony that would sever what we had built together.
One more hour. One more breath. One more heartbeat in the life we had created.
And then we would walk into the darkness and let it end.
Chapter
Fifteen
KAELEN
The sacred chamber waited in the hour before dawn, bathed in silver moonlight that filtered through crystal skylights like fragments of captured stars. Each beam illuminated the ancient carvings that adorned the walls—reliefs of bonds formed and dissolved, of souls joined and separated, of the eternal dance between connection and solitude that had played out within these stones for countless generations.
My stomach felt carved hollow, a cavern where my heart should have been beating. Each breath tasted of endings, of words not yet spoken but already weighing heavy on my tongue. Beside me, Rion moved with the careful precision of someone walking toward his own execution, his footsteps echoing off marble with funeral rhythm.
We had dressed in ceremonial garments—his the deep crimson of Korrath's militant order, mine the midnight blue of Aerius's scholarly domain. Thecolors that had once marked our separate identities now seemed like costumes for a play neither of us wanted to perform. But beneath the formal robes, I glimpsed something that made my breath catch in my throat.
The silken collar rested against his skin like a whispered secret, barely visible where his seret had loosened in the warmth of the chamber. The fabric caught the moonlight, pulsing with each beat of his heart, a reminder of everything we had built together in stolen moments and surrendered hours.
Priest Myris stood before the altar where our bond had been forged twenty-eight nights ago, his expression serene as still water. Behind him, the ceremonial implements waited—cup of wine for the final sharing, blessed blade for the cutting of threads both seen and unseen, scroll containing the words that would undo what had been woven with such care.
"Brothers," he began, his voice carrying the weight of ritual older than memory, "you have walked together for one full cycle of the moon. You have learned what it means to join your souls in sacred purpose, to find strength in unity while maintaining the distinct gifts that mark your separate callings."
Captain Thane stood witness for the militant order, his weathered face carved from stone, revealing nothing of whatever thoughts moved behind his steady gaze. Elder Lysias represented my scholarly brothers, fingers steepled in contemplation, eyes bright with the satisfaction of theory proven through practice.
"The bond has served its purpose," Myris continued, unrolling the ancient parchment with movements that spoke of countless such ceremonies. "You have learned discipline through connection, wisdom through surrender, strength through the courage to hold and then release. Now comes the final lesson—the grace to let go with gratitude rather than grief."
The words should have brought comfort, the assurance that what we had shared possessed meaning beyond its duration. Instead, they felt like stones cast into the hollow space where my heart used to beat. Meaning was cold comfort when measured against the warmth of waking beside someone who knew your every breath, who could read your needs in the tilt of your head or the tension in your shoulders.
"Lieutenant Rion," Myris said, extending the scroll toward my bonded partner with steady hands, "as the one who answered the call to serve, you will speak the severance first. The words are ancient, blessed by those who came before. They will cut cleanly, with honor intact and purpose fulfilled."
Rion stepped forward, and I watched his hands tremble as he accepted the parchment. The bond between us pulsed with his distress, carrying whispers of panic barely held in check. Through our connection, I felt his throat constrict, felt the way his mouth had gone dry as summer stone.
He unrolled the scroll with fingers that shook despite his efforts at control, and I saw him read the words that would separate us as surely as any sword stroke. His lips moved silently, practicing the phrasesthat would tear apart everything we had become together.
"By sacred moon and rising sun, I release what was given..."
The opening line hung in the air, barely whispered, and I felt something fracture inside my chest. This was happening. This was real. In moments, the golden thread that connected us would be severed, leaving us both to stumble through the world with half our souls missing.
