The night before the warehouse raids, Kaelen couldn't sleep.
He'd tried. Laid in bed for two hours, staring at the ceiling, running through scenarios and contingencies until his head ached. Finally, around midnight, he gave up and decided to do something productive with his insomnia.
The warehouse training room was dimly lit by rune-lights set to minimal power. Kaelen moved through sword forms, not with Soulrender but with a practice blade—relearning the feeling of normal steel, the weight and balance that didn't come with whispers and hunger.
He was halfway through an advanced sequence when soft footsteps announced he wasn't alone.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Lia asked, entering the training space. She was dressed for bed—loose pants and a thin shirt that suggested she'd tried and failed the same as him.
"Too much thinking," Kaelen admitted, lowering the practice blade. "You?"
"Same." She moved closer, studying him. "You're worried about tomorrow."
"Three simultaneous operations, splitting our forces, potentially walking into traps." Kaelen set down the blade. "Yeah, I'm worried."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really. Talking won't change the risks."
"Then want to not-talk about it together?" Lia's lips quirked. "I find that company makes anxiety more bearable, even in silence."
"I'd like that."
They settled on the training mats, sitting close but not quite touching. For a while, neither spoke, simply existing in the same space, drawing comfort from proximity.
"Kaelen," Lia finally said. "If something goes wrong tomorrow—"
"It won't."
"But if it does," she insisted, "I need you to know something. These past weeks, working with you, being with you—" She paused, searching for words. "It's been the best part of a very difficult year. You make me remember why I do this work. Why it matters."
"Lia—"
"Let me finish." She turned to face him fully. "I'm not good at feelings. Master Elena always said I intellectualized everything, used research as a shield against emotional vulnerability. But with you, I can't do that. You've gotten past every defense I have, and I'm not sure whether to be terrified or grateful."
"Both?" Kaelen suggested. "I'm definitely both."
"Both works." She took his hand. "I just wanted you to know, before tomorrow, before everything gets complicated again—you matter to me. More than strategy, more than the mission. You."
Kaelen's heart felt too large for his chest. "You matter to me too. More than..." He gestured helplessly. "More than words I know how to say."
"Then don't say them." Lia shifted closer, her free hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw. "Show me instead."
Kaelen kissed her, slow and deep and thorough. Lia responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling herself against him. What started tender quickly turned heated, weeks of tension and fear and need spilling over.
Kaelen's hands found her waist, sliding under the hem of her shirt to touch bare skin. Lia gasped against his mouth, arching into the contact. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his sleep shirt, fumbling slightly in her eagerness.
"Is this—" Kaelen managed between kisses. "Are we—"
"If you want to," Lia breathed. "If you're sure."
Kaelen pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "I'm sure. Are you?"
"God, yes."
They came together again, more urgent now. Kaelen's shirt came off, discarded somewhere in the training room's darkness. Lia's followed moments later, and then Kaelen was kissing a trail down her neck, tasting salt and the faint scent of rune-ink that always clung to her skin.
"Not here," Lia gasped when his mouth found her collarbone. "Someone could walk in. My room."
They stumbled through the warehouse, pausing every few feet to kiss again, hands exploring newly exposed skin. Somehow they made it to Lia's quarters without being seen, though Kaelen wasn't entirely sure how.
Inside, with the door locked and wards engaged, they took their time relearning the art of touch. Kaelen mapped the curve of Lia's spine, the dip of her waist, the soft skin of her inner wrist where faint rune marks glowed. Lia traced his Shadow Scars with gentle fingers, kissing each dark line as if she could heal them through sheer tenderness.
"These don't scare me," she whispered against his chest. "They're part of you. Part of the price you've paid to stay good."
"They're hideous."
"They're beautiful. Because they mean you're still fighting."
They shed the rest of their clothes slowly, reverently, each piece revealing new territory to explore. When they finally came together, skin against skin, it felt like coming home and discovering something entirely new all at once.
"Kaelen," Lia breathed, her fingers tangled in his hair. "Yes. Please."
What followed was both desperately urgent and achingly tender—two people finding connection in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart. They learned each other's rhythms, what touches made the other gasp, where to press and where to gentle. When Lia cried out his name, Kaelen felt it echo through his entire being.
After, they lay tangled together in her narrow bed, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. Lia's head rested on Kaelen's chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his ribs, carefully avoiding the recently healed wound.
"That was..." she started.
"Yeah," Kaelen agreed, because words seemed inadequate.
"If I'd known it would be like that, I wouldn't have waited weeks."
Kaelen laughed, the sound rumbling through both of them. "We were busy trying not to die."
"Fair point." Lia propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen from kissing, and Kaelen thought she'd never been more beautiful. "No regrets?"
"None. You?"
"Not even one." She kissed him, soft and sweet. "Though we should probably sleep. Tomorrow's going to be exhausting."
"Five more minutes."
"You always say five more minutes."
"Because it's always true."
They stayed awake talking quietly, trading stories and secrets in the darkness. Kaelen learned that Lia had wanted to be a healer before Elena convinced her to study rune magic. Lia learned that Kaelen had a younger sister he'd lost track of after being driven from Valorian.
"We'll find her," Lia promised. "After all this is over, after Marcus is defeated, we'll track down your sister."
"That's a nice dream."
"Then let's make it reality." She snuggled closer, her warmth chasing away the cold that Soulrender's presence always brought. "That's what we're fighting for, right? A world where dreams are possible."
"Is that what we're fighting for?" Kaelen mused. "I thought it was to stop a genocidal tyrant from destroying civilization."
"That too. But the tyrant-stopping is means to an end. The end is the dream—peace, safety, futures worth having."
Eventually, despite their best efforts, exhaustion claimed them. Kaelen fell asleep with Lia in his arms, her breath warming his chest, her heartbeat steady against his ribs.
For the first time in weeks, he slept without nightmares.
He woke to grey dawn light filtering through the curtains and the weight of Lia still pressed against him. She stirred when he moved, making a sleepy sound of protest.
"Morning," she mumbled, not opening her eyes.
"Morning." Kaelen pressed a kiss to her temple. "We should probably get up. Briefing in an hour."
"Don't want to. Want to stay here."
"Me too." And he did, desperately. Wanted to stay in this bed, in this moment, where the only concerns were morning breath and tangled limbs. "But duty calls."
"Duty is overrated." But Lia was already shifting, stretching, opening her eyes. When she looked at him, her expression was soft and content. "Last night was..."
"Yeah."
"If we survive today—"
"When we survive today," Kaelen corrected.
"When we survive," Lia agreed, "we do that again. Many times."
"Deal."
They dressed slowly, stealing touches and kisses, reluctant to return to being soldiers in a war. But eventually they had to face reality—armor and weapons, strategy and tactics, the warehouse raids that would determine so much.
At the door, Lia caught Kaelen's hand. "Come back to me."
"Always," he promised. "I have reasons to now."
"Good reasons?"
"The best reasons." He kissed her one final time, pouring everything he couldn't say into the contact. "I love you, Lia Thorne."
It was the first time either of them had said it aloud. Lia's eyes went bright with unshed tears.
"I love you too, Kaelen Voss." She kissed him fiercely. "So you damn well better not die today."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
They descended to the briefing room separately, maintaining professional distance. But everyone who saw them knew something had changed—the way they moved together, the looks they shared, the unconscious synchronization of their movements.
Ronan caught Kaelen's eye and gave him a small, approving nod.
Selene merely raised an eyebrow, but her expression wasn't disapproving.
And Soulrender, ever observant, said: *So. Now you have everything to lose. How interesting. Let us see if love makes you stronger or more vulnerable.*
"Stronger," Kaelen replied silently. "Love always makes us stronger."
*We shall see,* the sword said. *We shall see.*
The briefing began. Maps were studied, teams assigned, contingencies reviewed. In a few hours, they would strike at Marcus's supply infrastructure, taking the fight directly to him for the first time.
But whatever came next, whatever dangers the day brought, Kaelen faced them knowing he had something worth fighting for beyond mere survival.
He had Lia. He had love. He had a future worth protecting.
And that, he was learning, was a kind of power all its own.
One that no Forbidden Blade could ever take away.