The silence after my confession was deafening.
I'd laid it all out—the bond, the marks, the inability to separate, the Eclipsed and their plan for the Crystal. Every word felt like another nail in my coffin.
Commander Vex's face had gone through approximately seventeen emotions and settled on something that looked like controlled murder.
"Let me understand this," she said slowly. "You're telling me that you—my best Knight, my most promising soldier—are now magically bonded to a Shadow-Weaver assassin. For life. And if he dies, you die."
"Yes, Commander."
"And you expect me to just... accept this?"
"No, Commander. I expect you to be furious. I expect you to want to kill him. I expect you to question everything I've ever told you about loyalty and duty." I met her eyes. "But I also expect you to be smart enough to see the bigger picture."
"The bigger picture."
"The Eclipsed are coming. They have the Crystal—or they will soon. And if they succeed, everyone loses. Solaris. Umbra. Every person on both sides who just wants to live." I stepped closer to Dorian, felt his presence steady through the bond. "He and I are the only ones who touched the Crystal and survived. The only ones who might be able to stop it."
"You don't know that."
"No. But I know if we kill each other now, we definitely fail."
Across the clearing, the Umbran commander—a scarred woman who moved like a blade—stepped forward. "She's right."
Everyone turned.
"The bond is real," the commander continued. "I've seen it before. Old texts, ancient stories. When the Crystal chooses, it chooses for a reason." She looked at Dorian. "Boy. Can you feel her?"
Dorian nodded. "Everything. Her fear. Her hope. Her complete lack of trust in me."
"I trust you fine," I muttered.
"You trust me approximately three percent."
"That's up from zero."
The Umbran commander's lips twitched. "They argue like an old married couple already."
"This isn't funny," Vex snapped.
"No. It's not." The Umbran commander—Vex, I realized, same name as mine, what were the odds—stepped closer to her Solarian counterpart. "But it's real. And if we ignore it because of pride, we die."
Silence stretched between the two commanders.
Then, slowly, Solarian Vex nodded.
"Temporary truce," she said through gritted teeth. "Until the Crystal is secured. Then we go back to trying to kill each other."
"Agreed." Umbran Vex extended her hand.
Solarian Vex stared at it like it might bite her.
Then she took it.
The two commanders shook hands, enemies agreeing to be allies, and something shifted in the air. Something that felt almost like hope.
Dorian's hand found mine. I let him hold it.
"Well," he murmured. "That's one crisis averted."
"Only one."
"One at a time. That's how we survive."
I looked at him—really looked. At the silver in his dark hair. At the warmth in his eyes. At the way his shadows curled protectively around us both without him seeming to notice.
"Who are you?" I asked quietly.
"Someone who's very glad you didn't let them kill me."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have right now." He squeezed my hand. "Give me time. I'll find more."
They gave us a tent.
Separate from both camps, in the middle of the clearing, where everyone could watch us but no one had to touch us. A compromise. A cage.
I sat on one side of the small space, back against the canvas, knees pulled to my chest. Dorian sat on the other, doing the same.
We'd been like this for an hour. Not talking. Just... existing.
"This is weird," he finally said.
"Everything about this is weird."
"No, I mean—" He gestured between us. "This. Sitting here. Not trying to kill each other. It's... quiet."
"You want me to try to kill you again?"
"Would it make you feel better?"
Surprisingly? Yes. Yes it would.
But I shook my head. "I'm too tired."
"Same." He stretched out his legs, getting comfortable. "So. Since we're stuck together forever, tell me something about yourself."
"Something?"
"One fact. Anything."
I thought about it. The usual answers—I'm a Knight, I'm from Solaris, I've trained since childhood—felt wrong. He already knew those.
"My brother," I said finally. "His name was Kael. He died three years ago in the Pass. Killed by a Shadow-Weaver."
Dorian's face softened. "I'm sorry."
"Your people killed him."
"My people killed a lot of your people. Your people killed a lot of mine." He met my eyes. "That's the point, isn't it? The cycle. It never ends because it can't end. Not until someone decides to stop."
"And you think we're that someone?"
"I think the Crystal picked us for a reason. Maybe that reason is stopping the cycle." He smiled sadly. "Or maybe it's just cosmic cruelty. Guess we'll find out."
Through the bond, I felt his grief. Not for my brother specifically, but for all of it—the waste, the loss, the endless fighting. He felt it deeply, the way he felt everything.
"You really do feel everything," I said without thinking.
He blinked. "What?"
"The bond. I can feel you. Right now you're sad. Not just regular sad—deep sad. Like the sadness is part of you."
For a moment, his mask slipped. I saw him—the real him, the one he hid behind jokes and grins.
"It is," he whispered. "Part of me. Always has been."
"Why?"
He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then: "My mother died giving birth to me. My father's never forgiven me for it. Twenty-two years, and every time he looks at me, I see it. The blame. The disappointment. The wish that I'd been the one to die instead."
My heart clenched. Through the bond, his pain washed over me—raw and real and endless.
"That's not your fault," I said.
"Tell that to my father."
"I'd like to. Give me five minutes with him."
He laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of him. "You'd fight my father for me?"
"I'd fight anyone for anyone who's been blamed for something they couldn't control." I held his gaze. "My grandmother did the same thing after Kael died. Made me feel like his death was my fault because I wasn't there. Because I wasn't strong enough. Because I let myself feel things."
"And now?"
"Now I don't feel things. Problem solved."
"That's not solved. That's buried." He shifted closer, slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn't. "You can't bury pain forever. It digs its way out eventually."
"Sounds like experience talking."
"Lots of experience." He was close now. Close enough to touch. "I deal with mine by joking. You deal with yours by freezing. Neither is healthy, but here we are."
"Here we are."
The bond pulsed between us—warm, steady, alive. His eyes dropped to my lips. Mine dropped to his.
For one breathless moment, I thought he might kiss me.
Then someone cleared their throat outside the tent.
"We're moving out," a voice called. "Now."
Dorian pulled back. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
"Saved by the mission," he murmured.
"Saved," I agreed.
But as we rose and left the tent, side by side, hands almost touching—
I wasn't sure what I'd been saved from.
Or if I wanted to be saved at all.