Two weeks of evaluation felt like two months.
Karsten's sessions were relentless—probing every thought, every reaction, every justification Kaelen offered for his choices. She made him recount Marcus's arguments, then systematically dismantle them. Made him examine his own reasoning for flaws, for planted doubts, for subtle shifts in worldview.
It was exhausting. But it worked.
By day ten, Kaelen could clearly see where Marcus's rhetoric had affected his thinking. Could identify the moments he'd started accepting premises he should have questioned.
By day twelve, he could counter those premises with his own logic, not just Karsten's prompts.
By day fourteen, Karsten declared him "functionally deprogrammed" and cleared him for limited duty.
Lia took another three days. Her immersion in Marcus's research had gone deeper, affected her more profoundly. When she finally emerged from evaluation, she looked exhausted and uncertain in a way Kaelen had never seen before.
They met in a private room in the Shadow Hunter headquarters—the first time they'd been alone together since leaving Marcus's compound.
"You look terrible," Kaelen said.
"Thanks," Lia replied dryly. "You look marginally less terrible."
They sat in awkward silence for a moment.
"I almost stayed," Lia finally admitted. "If you hadn't found those test subjects, I think I would have accepted Marcus's offer. The research was so compelling, the arguments so logical. I was losing myself and didn't even realize it."
"Same," Kaelen said. "He knew exactly what to say to make his position sound reasonable. That's what made it so dangerous."
"Karsten says I'm cleared, but I don't feel cleared," Lia continued. "I still catch myself thinking in frameworks Marcus taught. Still finding his arguments surfacing when I consider problems. He changed how I think, and I don't know if I can change it back."
Kaelen took her hand. "Then we change it together. Catch each other when we're slipping. Remind each other why we rejected him."
"Why did we reject him?" Lia asked. "I mean really. Was it just the test subjects? Because utilitarian ethics would say their suffering was outweighed by the knowledge gained. Marcus's logic holds up if you accept his premises."
"That's the problem," Kaelen said. "His logic only works if you accept that some people's suffering is acceptable for other people's benefit. We rejected him because we don't accept that premise. Because we think everyone matters, not just the majority."
"But millions die in the current system," Lia pointed out. "Wars, poverty, persecution. Marcus's plan might kill millions during the transition, but save billions after. How is that worse?"
Kaelen recognized this—it was the argument loop they'd both been stuck in during evaluation. The utilitarian trap that made Marcus's position seem rational.
"Because we don't actually know the outcome," Kaelen said carefully. "Marcus promises improvement, but he can't guarantee it. He might release the Shadow Lord and cause endless devastation with no positive result. He's gambling with millions of lives based on hope and theory. We're not willing to make that gamble."
Lia was quiet, processing. "That's what Karsten kept saying. That the difference between us and Marcus isn't goals—we all want a better world. It's certainty. We acknowledge we don't know the future. Marcus convinced himself he does."
"Exactly," Kaelen said. "He's a true believer. That makes him more dangerous than a simple villain, but it also makes him wrong. True believers don't question their certainty, and unquestioned certainty causes catastrophes."
"Very philosophical for someone who barely passed academy classes," Lia said, a hint of her normal humor returning.
"I contain multitudes," Kaelen replied. "Mostly bad decisions and muscle memory, but some philosophy snuck in there."
They sat together, the awkwardness fading. Not gone entirely—Marcus's influence had damaged their trust in each other and themselves. But healing.
"Karsten cleared us for duty," Lia said. "What's our assignment?"
"I don't know yet. Helena wanted to brief us once we were both operational again." Kaelen checked the time. "Meeting's in an hour. We should probably look professional."
They cleaned up, changed into proper Shadow Hunter gear, and headed to the briefing room.
---
Helena, Ronan, Selene, and Princess Isabella were already there, studying maps and intelligence reports.
"Kaelen. Lia," Helena said. "Good to have you back in proper form. How are you feeling?"
"Functional," Kaelen said. "Mostly certain about which side I'm on."
"Mostly?" Isabella asked sharply.
"Completely certain," Kaelen corrected. "Bad attempt at humor."
"Save the humor for when we're not facing existential threats," Isabella replied. "Sit. We have significant developments."
They sat. Ronan pushed a map toward them.
"Marcus's forces have been repositioning over the past two weeks," he explained. "Moving away from Eredor toward three specific locations." He pointed to marks on the map. "Old ritual sites, all used during the original Shadow Lord war three centuries ago."
"He's preparing for the convergence," Lia realized.
"Correct," Selene confirmed. "But not here in Eredor. He's targeting the Heartland Nexus—a location roughly two hundred miles northwest. It's where multiple ley lines intersect, creating exceptional magical concentration."
"If he performs the convergence there, the effect will be exponentially more powerful," Helena added. "Instead of releasing the Shadow Lord gradually, he could fully manifest the Lord within hours. Maybe minutes."
"Can we stop him?" Kaelen asked.
"We can try," Isabella said. "I've assembled a coalition force—Shadow Hunters, City Guard, military units from three kingdoms. About five hundred trained fighters total. We'll strike his positions simultaneously, disrupt his preparations, prevent the convergence from completing."
"That's a full military operation," Lia said. "Not a covert raid."
"Marcus forced our hand," Isabella replied. "He's no longer hiding, no longer pretending to be a minor threat. This is open warfare now. He's bet everything on completing the convergence. We're betting everything on stopping him."
"When?" Kaelen asked.
"Three weeks," Ronan said. "That's when our intelligence suggests Marcus will be ready to begin the ritual. We need to strike just before that—catch him committed but not yet protected by the convergence itself."
Three weeks. That wasn't much time.
"What's our role?" Lia asked.
"Vanguard assault," Helena said. "You'll be part of the team that hits Marcus's position directly. The main force will engage his army, but a smaller, elite team will punch through to wherever he's conducting the ritual and stop him personally."
"That's a suicide mission," Kaelen observed.
"Probably," Helena agreed. "Which is why we're only using volunteers. People who understand the stakes and are willing to risk everything."
"I volunteer," Kaelen said immediately.
"Same," Lia added.
"I expected nothing less," Isabella said. "Which is why we've already put you on the roster. The assault team will be twelve strong—all Forbidden Blade wielders, high-level mages, or exceptional combatants. The best we have."
She distributed dossiers on the other team members. Kaelen scanned them—recognized some names from previous operations, saw impressive credentials on others.
"Training starts tomorrow," Ronan said. "Three weeks of intensive prep. Tactics, coordination, magical integration. By the time we deploy, you'll function as a single unit. Has to be that way—Marcus won't go down easy."
"What happens if we fail?" Lia asked.
"Then the Shadow Lord returns, Marcus declares himself architect of a new world order, and we all die trying to stop the subsequent apocalypse," Isabella said bluntly. "So we don't fail. Questions?"
Kaelen had a thousand questions. But they all boiled down to one: *Are we actually capable of this?*
He didn't ask it aloud. The answer didn't matter. They had to try regardless of capability.
"No questions," Kaelen said.
"Good. Dismissed. Get rest tonight—you'll need it. Training starts at dawn." Helena gathered the maps. "And Kaelen? Lia? I'm glad you made it back. We need you for this."
Outside the briefing room, Kaelen and Lia stood in the corridor, processing.
"Three weeks," Lia said quietly. "Three weeks until we face Marcus again. Until we potentially die trying to stop him."
"Maybe we win instead," Kaelen suggested.
"With twelve people against an army?" Lia shook her head. "The math is terrible."
"Math doesn't account for determination," Kaelen said. "Or for people willing to sacrifice everything for the right outcome."
"Determination and sacrifice don't stop overwhelming force," Lia countered. Then she sighed. "But they're what we have, so I guess we use them."
They walked back toward their quarters in silence.
Three weeks.
Three weeks to prepare for the most important fight of their lives.
Three weeks that would determine whether the world survived or fell to darkness.
No pressure.
---
That night, Kaelen couldn't sleep. Too much anxiety, too many variables, too much at stake.
He found himself on the headquarters rooftop, looking out over Eredor's nighttime cityscape.
Lia appeared beside him ten minutes later.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked.
"Too much thinking," Kaelen admitted. "Keep running through scenarios. Most of them end badly."
"Same." Lia sat beside him. "Karsten says that's normal before major operations. The mind tries to prepare for every possibility."
"My mind's doing a terrible job of it then. All I'm getting is variations of 'we die horribly.'"
"At least we'll die together," Lia said. "That counts for something."
"Romantic," Kaelen said dryly.
They sat in comfortable silence, shoulders touching, both pretending they weren't terrified.
"If we survive this," Lia said eventually, "what do we do after?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead," Kaelen admitted.
"Think about it now," Lia suggested. "Give us something to aim for beyond just not dying."
Kaelen considered. "Somewhere quiet. No shadow magic, no cults, no world-ending threats. Just... normal life. Whatever that looks like."
"A house?" Lia suggested. "Garden? Maybe a cat?"
"I've never had a cat."
"Then definitely a cat."
"You're planning our post-apocalypse domestic life?" Kaelen asked, amused despite everything.
"Someone has to," Lia replied. "If we're going to survive, we need something worth surviving for. A theoretical cat is as good as anything."
Kaelen pulled her closer. "Alright. We survive, we get a house and a cat. Deal?"
"Deal," Lia agreed.
They sat together until dawn, planning a future they might never reach, finding hope in impossible dreams.
It was probably foolish.
But foolish hope was better than no hope at all.
And for now, that was enough.