Aldric walked in darkness and silence.
The fabric of the blindfold pressed against his skin, cutting out all light, while the thick padding in his ears smothered even the faintest whisper of sound. Disoriented, weightless in the absence of his senses, all he had left was the solid ground beneath his boots and the firm hand guiding him forward.
His body still remembered the divine space, the vast emptiness where Luna had tested him, where he had bound himself to her—the one beside him now. The one walking through the dark at his side.
Lysara.
His fingers itched to reach out, to confirm she was still there.
Something brushed against the back of his hand—soft, warm, hesitant. A moment later, her fingers slid into his, threading through with quiet certainty.
Aldric stiffened, surprise jolting through him.
She wasn't clinging to him. She wasn't trembling. Her grip was firm, steady—not seeking reassurance, but giving it.
Slowly, he squeezed back.
Neither of them let go.
When the blindfold was pulled away, Aldric blinked against the sudden light. His ears rang in the absence of the silence, sound rushing back too fast—the crackle of flames, the distant clang of metal, the low murmur of voices.
They were back in the forge.
Soluna stood before them, arms crossed, watching them like a smith inspecting untested steel. Her sharp gaze swept over them once, and whatever she saw must have satisfied her because she nodded once.
"You succeeded," she said simply.
Lysara exhaled next to him, rolling her shoulders. "Not exactly how I planned it."
Soluna smirked. "It never is."
The forge glowed behind her, casting shifting golden light over the chamber, illuminating the sacred components still laid out before them. Their materials remained untouched—the ores, the new relics they had created waiting.
Aldric's fingers twitched at his side. Everything felt different now.
He could still feel Luna's effect on his mark, the way she had twisted his vow, reshaped it into something permanent and binding.
His gaze flicked to Lysara, but she was watching Soluna, her expression unreadable. She had changed, too.
"Rest," Soluna said, stretching her arms as if shaking off some unseen weight. "The divine artifact you brought back is strong, but I'll need time to work with it." She gestured toward the doors leading out of the forge. "We've prepared a room for you both. Sleep, eat. When your items are ready, you'll know."
Lysara didn't argue. She just nodded and walked toward the door without hesitation.
Aldric hesitated, but Soluna caught his gaze before he could follow.
"One last thing, Oathbound."
He stopped.
Her eyes weren't mocking like Luna's, nor absolute like Sol's. They were something in between—a quiet, knowing weight.
"You should tell her."
Aldric frowned. "Tell her what?"
Soluna tilted her head toward the retreating Lightborn. "That you've already made your choice."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned and followed Lysara.
The room was warm, the fire crackling in the hearth, the scent of charred wood and mountain air settling into the space.
Lysara stood near the fire, stretching her limbs as Aldric dropped onto the cot with a heavy sigh.
The burden of the day pressed down on him, but it wasn't exhaustion from the climb, nor the trials, or even the divine presence that had nearly unmade him.
It was what the gods had left behind.
He ran a hand over his chest, fingers brushing against the fabric of his tunic, feeling the phantom weight of the vow still binding him.
Lysara broke the silence first.
"So," she said, her voice steady but edged with something unreadable, "what did she do to you?"
Aldric didn't answer immediately.
He turned his head, watching the way the firelight caught in her silver eyes, the flickering glow tracing the curve of her scales. She looked the same. But she wasn't. Neither of them were.
Finally, he exhaled. "She changed the vow."
Lysara raised an eyebrow. "How?"
He held her gaze. He wasn't sure how she'd take it.
"It only works for you now."
The fire popped in the hearth.
Lysara blinked once, her expression unreadable. "That… wasn't what you asked for, was it?"
"No."
She tilted her head, watching him. "But you're not mad about it."
Aldric shook his head. "No. I don't regret it."
She studied him for a long moment before huffing a quiet laugh. "Figures."
Aldric smirked faintly, leaning back against the cot. "What about you? What did Sol do?"
The smirk faltered.
Lysara looked away, her fingers curling slightly against her arms.
Aldric waited.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter.
"He called me a coward."
Aldric's breath stilled.
Lysara gave a small, sharp laugh, but there was no amusement in it.
"Said I ran. That I couldn't face my death with honor when it mattered." She exhaled, shaking her head. "And he was right."
Aldric clenched his jaw. "That doesn't—"
She cut him off with a glance. "No. Don't."
She wasn't angry. She wasn't mocking.
She was being honest.
"I ran when the Veil froze. I ran from the Dark Templar. I ran because…" She hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "Because I didn't want to die."
Her silver eyes flickered with something almost… distant.
"I told myself I'd fight for something greater one day. That I'd stand when it mattered."
Aldric's fingers tightened against the blanket beneath him.
"But the truth is—I didn't stand until you made me."
Aldric's chest felt tight. Remembering his conversation with Luna
"Is she worth it?"
"Yes."
She leaned her head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "And Sol found that hilarious."
Aldric frowned. "Why?"
Lysara tilted her head, watching him like he was missing something obvious. "Because the reason I fought wasn't for faith. It wasn't for honor. It wasn't even for the gods."
Her silver gaze didn't waver.
"It was for you."
Silence stretched between them, the air thick with something unspoken but understood.
Aldric exhaled slowly, the weight of her words settling into him.
She huffed a breath, shifting where she sat. "Sol changed my Canticle, too."
Aldric raised an eyebrow. "How?"
Her lips twisted into something between amusement and frustration. "It only works when we are together and your oath is active."
Aldric froze.
Then, slowly, he laughed.
Lysara scowled. "You find that funny?"
Aldric shook his head, still grinning. "No. I just—" He ran a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. "You realise the gods absolutely played us, right?"
Lysara's eyes narrowed. "What?"
He gestured between them. "Think about it. I ask for a vow to protect everyone—Luna chains it to you. You ask for battlefield control—Sol locks it to my range." He let out a breath, shaking his head. "They had this planned from the start. I bet they're laughing their divine arses off right now."
Lysara snorted. A real, startled laugh. "You think they set us up?"
Aldric leaned back against the cot, smirking. "Oh, absolutely. Divine matchmaking at its finest. 'Oh no, two idiots playing at heroism? Guess we better make sure they don't get themselves killed by forcing them to work together.'"
Lysara laughed, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."
Aldric grinned. "Well, guess we really don't have a choice now. Team effort, whether we like it or not."
She huffed, rubbing a hand over her face. "Just when I thought I was free of you."
He smirked. "Sorry to disappoint."
Lysara glanced at him, still smiling, her silver eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Could be worse."
Aldric chuckled. "It really could."
And in the flickering light of the fireplace, they both understood what it meant.
--
Aldric woke to warmth, not weight.
For the first time in what felt like years, he wasn't exhausted, wasn't sore, wasn't bracing for a fight the moment he opened his eyes.
He lay there, blinking at the wooden ceiling, letting his breath settle. The fire had burned low in the hearth, but the room was still warm. The usual aches in his muscles were gone. Not just eased—gone. As if the tension, the exhaustion, the burden had been stripped from his bones overnight.
A shift of fabric beside him made him glance to the other cot. Lysara was awake too, stretching lazily, silver eyes half-lidded with a rare moment of peace.
She turned her head slightly, rolling her shoulders. "You feel it, don't you?"
Aldric exhaled slowly. "Yeah."
It was a pull, an energy thrumming just beneath his skin, deeper than blood, woven into his very soul.
The marks left upon them by the gods itched, but not in irritation—in power.
The Canticles had been written. The forge had done its work.
Their divine artifacts were ready.
Lysara sat up, shaking her head as if shaking off the last remnants of sleep. "They won't even need to send a message."
Aldric swung his legs off the cot, rolling his shoulders. "We already know."
They felt it, in their very bones, an unspoken call from the forge.
The guards at the forge doors stepped aside without question, their gazes lowering in subtle acknowledgment.
Inside, the forge blazed brighter than before, its golden fire reflecting off the polished stone walls. The weight of something sacred filled the chamber.
Soluna was waiting for them.
And she was beaming.
The blacksmith, ever the hardened artisan, stood tall, arms crossed, her golden eyes practically glowing with pride. Beside her, Sight-Rider stood silent, her silvered gaze unreadable but expectant.
"You took your damn time," Soluna smirked, but there was no bite to her words—only satisfaction.
Aldric exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Didn't need to rush."
Lysara's gaze flickered to the workbench behind Soluna, where two items rested atop a silken cloth, gleaming in the forge-light.
Their divine artifacts.
Their vows made tangible.
Soluna rolled her shoulders. "Not gonna lie, this is the best damn work I've ever done."
She turned first to Lysara, picking up the small object that lay before her.
"This one first."
She held out a symbol attached to a slender metal cord.
Lysara stepped forward, brow raised as she took it. The moment her fingers closed around the metal, she felt it—warmth, power, a pulse of divinity that surged through her very core.
The symbol was a twelve-pointed star, encased in a smooth, perfect ring.
And at its center, a stone gleamed with a strange, shifting glow.
Lysara's silver eyes narrowed as she turned it over. This hadn't been part of the original design.
Soluna smirked, leaning against the worktable. "I felt like it was missing something." She nodded at the stone in the center. "Had this thing for years, some oddity that never fit in any of my work. But the moment I started forging your piece, this resonated with your ore. So I figured—why fight it?"
Lysara tilted her head, feeling the weight of the symbol in her palm. Then, without hesitation, she slipped the metal cord over her neck.
The moment it settled against her collarbone, she inhaled sharply.
Holy power surged through her, not like a sudden shock—but like a wellspring bursting open.
It doubled.
No—nearly tripled.
Her reserves had never felt this vast, this limitless. Between the healer's robe and this new artifact, she couldn't see herself running out of power anytime soon.
Lysara let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "This is… absurd."
Soluna laughed. "Good absurd or bad absurd?"
Lysara smirked. "That remains to be seen, does it have a name?"
There was a moment of contemplation in Soluna's expression. "Lightbearer"
Lysara nodded "Good name I like it."
Aldric nodded as well but before he could comment, Soluna turned to him.
"Now you."
She reached for the second item—a shield, a medium-sized Horsehead shield, named such as it is shaped like the front profile of a horse's head, elegant yet sturdy.
The white and gold inlay shimmered under the forge-light, but there was nothing fragile about it.
It was strong.
Aldric stepped forward, taking it into his arm.
The moment the leather straps tightened around his forearm, he felt it.
His bond surged to life.
The oath pulsed, stronger than it ever had before. The connection to Lysara was absolute, drumming through his body, his senses heightened, sharpened, reinforced.
But what truly surprised him was…
The weight.
Or lack of it.
He adjusted his grip, expecting the usual strain of carrying such a well-crafted shield—but there was nothing. It was light. Unnaturally so.
Soluna smirked at his reaction. "Yeah, figured that'd throw you."
Aldric turned to her. "How?"
The blacksmith crossed her arms, grinning like a woman deeply satisfied with her work.
"The ore you picked—strong, but light. I don't think there's anything that could damage this thing, not without divine intervention."
Aldric flexed his grip, adjusting the shield's angle. It moved effortlessly, without burden.
This was his.
A weapon not to strike, but to stand firm. To take the hits no one else could.
His Oathbound shield.
Aldric exhaled, his fingers tightening on the straps. "I don't think I can break it even if I tried."
Soluna chuckled. "You can try. But don't blame me if you look like an idiot failing."
Lysara snorted, shaking her head. "I give it a week before you end up testing it against something you shouldn't."
Aldric smirked, flexing his fingers around the leather grip. "Reckon it'll hold."
Lysara rolled her eyes but smiled. "You better hope so."
Soluna clapped her hands together, stepping back from the workbench. "Well, that's it then. The gods made their changes. You got your artifacts. So—what now?"
Aldric and Lysara exchanged a glance.
The power surged through them stronger than ever. Their trials had reforged them, their weapons were made, their divine connection locked into place.
Aldric smiled, adjusting the shield on his arm.
"Now," he said, "we put them to the test."
Aldric adjusted the shield on his arm, still marveling at the effortless balance, the way his body already understood it. Lysara ran a finger along the edge of her newly forged symbol, her silver eyes flickering with something he couldn't quite read.
Then Sight-Rider stepped forward.
Aldric tensed on instinct.
There was something in the way she moved—deliberate, measured, like someone about to deliver a truth no one wanted to hear.
"The artifacts are complete," Sight-Rider said, her voice steady as ever. "The gods have left their marks. You have endured their trials."
She paused.
"And now comes the payment."
The room stilled.
Lysara's fingers twitched against the metal cord at her throat. "Payment?"
Aldric's grip tightened slightly on the shield's strap. He had been waiting for this.
Soluna scowled, glancing between Sight-Rider and the rest of the forge. "What in the hells are you talking about?"
Sight-Rider raised a hand, her silver-lit eyes betraying no emotion. "Do not worry. This is something they can help with."
Aldric exhaled slowly. "Go on."
"The Caelites," Sight-Rider continued, turning slightly toward Soluna, "have been struggling to collect enough meat for their Dragles."
Soluna let out an irritated breath, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "That again?"
Lysara frowned. "Dragles?"
The blacksmith grinned. "Oh, you're in for a treat. Big bastards. Half-eagle, half-dragon, all attitude. The Caelites breed them for transport, scouting, and sometimes war—when they feel particularly righteous about something."
Lysara raised an eyebrow. "They ride them?"
Soluna shrugged. "Not all of them, but yeah. Dragles are their lifeblood. Only problem is, they eat a lot."
Aldric glanced at Sight-Rider, suspicion curling in his gut. "You're asking us to go on a hunt."
Sight-Rider nodded once. "Yes."
Lysara crossed her arms. "And that's all?"
A pause.
A fraction of a second too long.
Aldric and Lysara exchanged a glance.
They weren't stupid.
This wasn't just about food.
Sight-Rider offered nothing more, her expression unreadable. "You have no reason to refuse."
That was true.
They didn't.
Soluna folded her arms, clearly still not pleased but not arguing.
Aldric exhaled through his nose. "Fine. We'll go."
Lysara sighed but nodded. "Might as well. I'd rather not spend our first day with these artifacts sitting around polishing them."
Soluna smirked. "Hah. Now that's the spirit."
Sight-Rider inclined her head, a small, knowing gesture. "Good. Then prepare yourselves."
As they turned toward the forge doors, Aldric couldn't shake the feeling that this was far more than just a simple hunt.