The night after the council decision was unusually quiet.
No alarms.No urgent summons.No shadow pressing at the edges of Alisha's awareness.
That, more than anything, unsettled her.
She found Caelan where the palace gardens dipped into shadow, the old stone benches half-hidden beneath moonlit leaves. He was seated, elbows resting on his knees, gaze unfocused as if listening to something only he could hear.
"You knew I'd come," she said softly.
He looked up, surprised only for a moment. "I hoped."
Alisha stopped a few steps away.
For the first time since everything had changed, there were no observers. No expectations waiting to be fulfilled. Just the space between them—and the choice of whether to cross it.
"You stood your ground today," Caelan said. "They won't forget it."
"Neither will I," she replied.
Silence settled, not heavy, but careful.
Alisha moved closer and sat beside him, leaving just enough space that neither of them could pretend it was accidental. Their shoulders didn't touch—but she was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from him.
"You could have walked away," he said quietly. "From all of this. From me."
"I thought about it," she admitted.
That honesty surprised him.
"What stopped you?" he asked.
Alisha folded her hands in her lap. "If I keep choosing distance every time something matters, I'll end up exactly where he wants me."
Caelan didn't need to ask who he was.
The Eclipse stirred—not warning her away, not urging her forward. Simply watching.
Slowly, carefully, Caelan reached out.
He didn't grab her hand.
He didn't pull her closer.
He let his fingers brush against hers—barely a touch, light enough that she could withdraw without explanation.
Alisha didn't.
Instead, she turned her hand slightly, allowing their fingers to rest together, palm to palm. The contact was simple. Steady.
Grounding.
Her breath caught—not from excitement, but from the realization that nothing terrible followed.
No loss of control.No surge of power.No world-ending consequence.
Just warmth.
"This doesn't change your decision," Caelan said, as if afraid it might.
"No," Alisha replied. "It clarifies it."
She leaned her head lightly against his shoulder—not collapsing into him, not seeking refuge, but sharing weight. He stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, adjusting just enough to make room.
They stayed that way, the moon tracing slow arcs above them.
"You don't belong to the council," Caelan said after a while. "And you don't belong to prophecy."
She lifted her head slightly, looking at him. "And you don't belong to strategy."
He smiled faintly. "Then what is this?"
Alisha considered the question.
"This," she said, "is something we're choosing not to weaponize."
She shifted, turning toward him.
He followed her movement instinctively.
Their foreheads touched—lightly, briefly—close enough that she could feel his breath, steady and warm. She hesitated only a moment before closing the distance the rest of the way.
The kiss was soft.
Unrushed.
Not demanding anything more than it gave.
When they pulled back, neither spoke right away.
Alisha rested her hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. Proof. Presence.
"I won't promise forever," she said quietly.
"I wouldn't trust it if you did," Caelan replied.
She smiled—a real one this time.
They stayed together until the night deepened, until the moon climbed higher and the world remained, stubbornly, intact.
Far away, the Shadow King felt the shift.
Not power.
Not defiance.
Attachment.
His smile returned—slow and sharp.
"Good," he murmured. "Now there's something to take."