The Scion Order banners fluttered proudly under the early spring sun as Arasha and her company crossed the final ridge leading to the fortress. The gates opened wide, and knights, squires, and staff alike gathered in welcome. Sir Garran, having arrived just hours earlier using one of Linalee's teleportation scrolls, waited at the courtyard's edge, arms crossed and an unreadable expression carved into his face.
But it was not Garran who reached her first.
As soon as Arasha dismounted, Kane was there—standing between the stables and the main hall. His usual calm was replaced by something deeper and more volatile. His eyes locked on hers with a storm she had rarely seen in them.
Before she could say a word, Kane's voice cut through the bustle of the courtyard.
"You left," he said, low but sharp. "You didn't say anything. Not even a word."
Arasha blinked, caught entirely off-guard. "Kane, I—"
"You promised," he snapped, stepping forward. "We said we'd face battle rifts together. I wasn't asking to go with you. I was asking to be told. I deserve that much."
Knights in the courtyard began to glance at each other awkwardly. Sir Garran subtly signaled for them to disperse.
Arasha, who had stood unfaltering before an undead dragon, now faltered before the fire of an indignant youth. "You're right. I should've—"
Kane didn't let her finish. "What if something had happened to you again? What if I couldn't have done anything this time? What if that talisman wasn't enough? What if—"
"Enough," Arasha said, gently but firmly. "Come with me."
The training grounds were mostly empty, the sun beginning to dip low behind the walls of the fortress. Arasha pulled off her cloak and passed it to a nearby rack, stepping into the circle of worn dirt with a practice sword in hand.
Kane stared, confused.
"You're angry. You have every right to be. So take it out here." She tossed him a matching blade. "Let your frustration speak."
Kane's jaw tightened. "This is childish."
"And yet, here we are." Her smirk was brief, but there was a glint of something raw in her eyes—an unspoken understanding. "Come on. Show me that spark of yours."
With a huff, Kane stepped into the circle, blade raised—not with the form of a student, but with the bearing of someone who had fought for lifetimes. Their weapons clashed with a force that echoed.
Strike. Parry. Counter. Again.
Kane moved faster than a squire should have. He met her blows, fueled by months of bottled emotion. He didn't hold back—and neither did she.
"I was scared," Kane said between breaths, eyes flashing. "That I'd lose you. Again."
Arasha's hand wavered, just for a moment, but she recovered with a swift side-step. "I don't know why you think that way. Still, I clearly upset you so I'm sorry."
"You keep forgetting," he growled, ducking low and sweeping his blade toward her leg, "that we're here too! That I'm here—waiting, watching, helpless every time you vanish."
She blocked his swing and twisted, disarming him. The practice sword clattered to the side.
Kane panted, his hands shaking. "I don't want to lose you. Not this time."
Arasha studied Kane closely trying not to miss anything.
He didn't seem like a prodigy squire or a too-smart orphan.
But he looked like a boy carrying the weight of a past no one remembered but him.
"I'm strong Kane but I do keep forgetting that I have people to lean on," she admitted, stepping closer added, "and that even sparks can burn out if they're left alone too long."
Kane looked away, arm rising to cover his eyes again, but his voice cracked. "Don't say stuff like that... I can't—"
Without hesitation, Arasha closed the distance and pulled him into a hug.
Kane broke.
His shoulders shook, and the tears came, hot and unrelenting. He didn't fight it this time. Arasha held him, silent, unsure, but steady.
From the upper walkway, Leta watched, arms folded, sighing quietly.
"There she goes again. One step forward, two steps into chaos."
Sir Garran, who stood beside her, chuckled. "At least she's learning."
Kane's sobs had finally settled, leaving only hiccuping breaths and a flushed face buried stubbornly into Arasha's shoulder. She hadn't moved much—still holding him, unsure whether it was the right or wrong thing—but she felt the tension slowly drain out of him like a storm that had blown itself out.
Finally, Kane stirred and stepped back, hastily wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. His cheeks were still red, and he wouldn't quite meet her eyes.
"That—That hugging thing. You really have to stop doing that whenever I get like this," he mumbled, voice rough.
Arasha tilted her head, eyes narrowing in confusion. "It seems to work, though."
"That's not the point!" Kane snapped, the fire in his voice returning just enough to hide the lingering cracks. "What if—what if it wasn't me? What if it were another squire? You can't just... go around hugging people like that!"
Arasha blinked, genuinely considering it for a moment. Then, without missing a beat, she shrugged. "There's no one else like you, Kane. So I wouldn't."
Kane froze. His entire face went from pink to crimson in a second, eyes wide as though she had just declared marriage in the middle of the parade square. "Wh-What?!"
From the upper walkway, Sir Garran choked on his breath while Leta laughed openly, gripping the railing.
Kane, eyes flicking up and realizing they had an audience, let out a small, strangled noise—somewhere between a groan and a yelp—before spinning on his heel and bolting toward the inner corridor, muttering something about needing to "train alone before he loses all sense of dignity."
A few squires nearby chuckled under their breath, exchanging amused looks. One elbowed the other and whispered, "Told you he was her favorite."
Arasha, still standing in the center of the practice ring with Kane's practice sword in one hand, blinked again. "Did I say something strange?"
Sir Garran approached, his arms crossed but a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You need a little more practice at handling squires with delicate pride, Commander."
"And a bit more awareness about how casually you say the most heart-rending things," Leta added, finally catching up to them and grinning with impish delight. "You're a natural at teasing people without even realizing it."
Arasha looked between the two of them, utterly baffled. "I wasn't teasing."
"That," Sir Garran said, gesturing at her with a nod, "makes it so much worse."
The three stood there for a moment longer before Leta, still chuckling, gave Arasha a pat on the shoulder. "You've got the whole fortress wrapped around your finger and don't even know it. Come on. Let's give Kane some space before his soul leaves his body entirely."
As they walked off the training grounds, Arasha glanced once more toward the corridor Kane had vanished into, brow furrowed—not with confusion this time, but with something far softer.
"I'll protect that spark," she murmured under her breath. "Even if I don't always know how."
Sir Garran caught the words but said nothing—just walked beside her in comfortable silence, the weight of the world momentarily eased by the warmth of found family.
****
The hidden hall was a quiet, forgotten space near the edge of the fortress—where ivy crept lazily through broken windows and moss softened the edges of old stone. Once a proud indoor sparring ground, it now stood overgrown, the wooden floors dappled with the golden-green light of the late afternoon sun.
Kane sat on a worn bench pushed into one corner, knees drawn to his chest and sword leaning against the wall beside him. His tunic was wrinkled, dirt smudged his cheek, and his expression was tight—wrestling emotions as if they were foes on the battlefield.
He had run here without thinking, only knowing he needed to be away. Away from the stares. Away from her.
"Gods above... what is wrong with me?" he muttered, dragging his hands down his face. "I've survived death, fought riftspawn, changed fate—and yet one hug from her and I'm falling apart."
He buried his head in his arms, frustration curling in his chest.
"She smells like pinewood and steel and… and warmth," he growled under his breath. "And she always looks at me like I'm still a child. But then she says things like 'no one else is like you' and *'you're the only one I'd hug'—" His voice cracked, cheeks burning. "What the hell is she thinking, saying something like that so casually?!"
Kane flopped back against the wall and stared up at the beams above, lost in a storm of confusion and heat and longing. "Damn it…"
His chest ached—deep, hollow. Not just from embarrassment, but from something far older, far more painful. Memories surged from the back of his mind—her last smile, her vanishing into light, his hands trying to hold what couldn't be held.
"I never told her," he whispered, the words tasting like guilt. "In the last timeline… I never told her I loved her. I didn't even realize it until it was too late."
And now that love—real, undeniable—settled over him like armor and shackles all at once.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes again, trailing down without permission. He covered his face with his arm, willing himself to breathe through it.
That's when he heard the soft crunch of boots on overgrown leaves.
He shot up, quickly wiping his face—and froze.
Arasha stood at the threshold, one hand on the archway, bathed in the warm hue of the setting sun. Her expression was hesitant, concerned.
"There you are," she declares softly. "I… realized you hadn't come back for supper. I thought maybe you were still mad at me."
Kane turned away quickly, wiping at his face again. "I'm not mad," he muttered, voice tight. "Just… needed space."
Arasha took a few cautious steps inside, eyes scanning the overgrown hall before resting gently on him. "This place is peaceful. I didn't even know it was here."
"I come here when I want to be alone," Kane said, not looking at her.
She crouched beside him anyway, not touching, just close enough for her presence to be undeniable. "And yet, I found you."
"That's because you're annoying like that," he muttered. Then winced. "I mean—not annoying, just... persistent."
A soft laugh escaped her—tired but warm. "I'll take that as a compliment."
There was a long silence between them. The light filtered through the vines like threads of gold, painting her armor and hair in celestial hues.
Kane clenched his fists, voice quiet. "Commander… when you said earlier—about me being the only one…"
"I meant it," she said, not waiting for him to finish. "You're… special to me, Kane. I don't always know how to say it right, but I do mean it."
He finally looked at her—eyes red, lower lip trembling just slightly.
"It hurts," he whispered. "Losing you hurt more than I ever admitted. And I—" He hesitated. "I never want to go through that again."
Arasha reached forward, hesitant, and gently placed her hand on his head—fingers threading into his hair like a promise.
"You won't," she said, with a quiet certainty that steadied his heartbeat. "I don't know why you think you'll lose me. But, both the past and the future where you believe you lost me doesn't matter. Because right here, right now, I'm here. With you. "
Kane leaned into her touch, breath shaky. He looked at Arasha in the eyes searching for any doubt but all he could find if the bright fire in her eyes telling him, making him feel, the truth.
She's here. Alive. That thought rang echoed in his mind.
"…You better not disappear again," he mumbled.
"I'll try not to," she replied softly. "But if I do… you have to find me again. Deal?"
"…Deal," he whispered.
And in that overgrown, hidden hall, lit by the last light of day and thick with unspoken truths, the pact between them—heartfelt and fragile—was sealed not with fanfare, but with a silence that spoke louder than words.