The funeral was held at sunset, as Ronan had promised.
Six cairns stood in a cleared field near the ritual site—Drake, Viktor and Sarah Chen, Garrett, Cassandra, and Brother Matthias. Their bodies had been recovered, cleaned, prepared with what dignity battlefield conditions allowed.
The surviving coalition forces assembled in silence. Five hundred soldiers who'd arrived too late to help, standing witness to the six who'd sacrificed everything.
Princess Isabella spoke first. Her eulogy was professional, respectful, hitting the expected notes about duty and courage and sacrifice for the greater good.
But when Valdris stepped forward to speak for the assault team, her words cut deeper.
"They weren't heroes," she said bluntly. "They were professionals who knew the odds and took the job anyway. Drake complained constantly. The Chen siblings were paranoid and antisocial. Garrett had a gambling problem. Cassandra hated everyone. Brother Matthias was self-righteous."
She paused, and her voice cracked slightly.
"They were flawed, difficult people. And they died buying time for the rest of us to complete the mission. That's not heroism—that's just stubbornness. But it's the stubbornness that saves the world, one impossible fight at a time."
Valdris placed a token on each cairn—personal items she'd collected from their gear. A pair of dice for Garrett. A family photo for the Chens. A holy symbol for Brother Matthias.
"Rest well," she said quietly. "We'll handle the next fight. You've earned the break."
The ceremony concluded with military efficiency. Soldiers dispersed, returning to the business of packing camp and preparing for the march home.
Kaelen stayed longer, standing before the cairns with Lia and Ronan.
"I barely knew them," Kaelen admitted. "Three weeks of training, one mission. That's not enough time to really know someone."
"You knew them where it counted," Ronan said. "In combat, under pressure, facing death. That reveals people faster than years of casual acquaintance."
"Drake made terrible jokes," Lia added softly. "Cassandra actually smiled once when she thought no one was watching. The Chens had this way of finishing each other's sentences that was almost telepathic."
Small details. Brief moments. Not enough to constitute a full relationship, but enough to feel the absence.
Kaelen tried to feel appropriate sadness. Tried to access the grief he knew he should be experiencing.
Found only distant acknowledgment. Like reading about tragedy in a book instead of experiencing it directly.
"Something's wrong with me," he said quietly.
"You're in shock," Lia replied. "Processing trauma takes time."
"No, it's not that." Kaelen looked at his shadow-marked hands. "I should feel more. Should be more affected. But it's like... there's distance between me and normal emotions. I understand they died. I intellectually recognize that's sad. But I don't *feel* it the way I should."
Ronan studied him carefully. "That's the transformation. Soulrender's integration is affecting more than just your body. It's changing how you process emotion."
"Am I losing my humanity?" Kaelen asked.
"You're changing what humanity means for you," Ronan corrected. "That's not the same as losing it. But it does mean you're becoming something different from who you were."
That was what Kaelen feared most. Not the physical changes—he could accept shadow-marked skin and altered physiology. But losing his capacity to feel, to connect, to be genuinely human in the ways that mattered?
That was a death worse than the physical kind.
"I need to be alone for a while," he said.
Lia started to protest, then caught the look in his eyes. "Okay. But not too long. We're supposed to report to Isabella in two hours."
Kaelen wandered away from the funeral site, finding a quiet spot overlooking the valley where the ritual site lay in ruins.
The sun was setting, painting everything in shades of red and gold. It should have been beautiful. Kaelen knew it was beautiful, could analyze the aesthetic qualities intellectually.
But he couldn't feel the beauty. Couldn't access whatever emotional response normal people had to pretty sunsets.
*Am I broken?* he asked Soulrender.
*You are changed*, the blade replied. *There is a difference.*
*Is there? Because from here, they look the same.*
*You retain capacity for emotion. You simply process it differently now. More... filtered. Less overwhelming. It is not absence, but transformation.*
*That's just semantics*, Kaelen thought bitterly.
*Words matter*, Soulrender replied. *You fear becoming a monster. But monsters do not question their nature. Your self-doubt proves your humanity remains.*
Small comfort. But comfort nonetheless.
Kaelen sat watching the sunset until it faded completely, trying to feel something beyond intellectual appreciation.
Trying to prove to himself that he was still fundamentally human.
Mostly failing.
---
He returned to find Lia waiting outside his tent.
"You've been gone three hours," she said. "I was starting to worry."
"Lost track of time," Kaelen replied. "Sorry."
She studied his face. "What's wrong? And don't say nothing—I can see something's bothering you."
Kaelen hesitated, then told her. About the emotional distance, the inability to feel appropriate responses, the fear that he was losing essential parts of himself.
Lia listened without interrupting. When he finished, she took his hand—the shadow-marked one he'd been unconsciously hiding.
"I don't think you're losing yourself," she said carefully. "I think you're adjusting to a new baseline. Like when you first started using Soulrender—remember how overwhelming the corruption felt? But eventually, you adapted. Found equilibrium."
"This feels different," Kaelen said.
"Because it is different. You merged with a Forbidden Blade at fundamental level. That's going to have effects beyond what we initially anticipated." Lia squeezed his hand. "But that doesn't mean you're becoming a monster. It means you're becoming something new. Something unprecedented."
"What if the 'something new' isn't compatible with being in a relationship?" Kaelen asked quietly. "What if I keep changing until I can't connect with normal people anymore?"
"Then we adapt," Lia said firmly. "I'm not exactly 'normal' anymore either, if you haven't noticed. My echo-scars are permanent. My magic is fundamentally altered. We're both changed, Kaelen. We'll figure out what that means together."
She made it sound simple. Kaelen wanted it to be simple.
But he could feel the distance growing already. The way he processed emotion differently than before. The way human concerns were starting to feel distant and abstract.
The way Lia felt slightly further away than she had a week ago.
"Together," he echoed, not entirely believing it.
But wanting to.
Lia seemed to sense his doubt. "Come here," she said, pulling him into the tent.
Inside, she lit a small magical light—just enough to see by—and began helping him remove his armor. Not seductively, just practically. The intimacy of familiar routine.
"You're tense," she observed, her fingers finding knots in his shoulders. "When's the last time you actually relaxed?"
"Define relaxed," Kaelen said.
"Not thinking about death, corruption, or existential transformation for five consecutive minutes."
"Then never."
"Thought so." Lia pushed him down onto the cot and began working on his shoulders properly. Her touch was warm, human, grounding.
Kaelen tried to focus on the physical sensation. Tried to feel the comfort and connection he knew should accompany this moment.
Found it, but fainter than before. Like listening to music through thick walls.
"You're not relaxing," Lia said.
"I'm trying."
"Try harder." Her hands moved down his back, finding tension he hadn't realized he was carrying. "You saved everyone, Kaelen. You stopped the convergence. You captured Marcus. You did everything right. It's okay to rest now."
"Is it though?" Kaelen turned to look at her. "Marcus said his movement doesn't end with him. That others will rise. That the ideology persists beyond the individual. What if he's right? What if we just delayed the inevitable?"
"Then we deal with it when it comes," Lia said. "But tonight, right now, the threat is neutralized. We have time. Use it."
She was right. Intellectually, Kaelen knew she was right.
But the emotional conviction wouldn't come.
Lia seemed to realize words weren't working. She shifted her approach, moving around to face him directly.
"Stop thinking," she said.
"I can't just—"
She kissed him, cutting off the protest.
For a moment, the distance receded. Physical sensation overriding intellectual analysis, genuine emotion breaking through the filter.
Kaelen kissed back, pulling her closer, trying to hold onto the feeling before it slipped away again.
They moved together with desperate familiarity, seeking connection that was becoming harder to maintain. Lia's hands found the shadow-marks on his skin and didn't flinch. Kaelen's altered perception saw her echo-scars as beautiful rather than damaged.
The tent's small space became their entire world for a while. No corruption, no transformation, no distance—just two changed people trying to prove they could still reach each other.
Afterwards, lying together in the dim magical light, Kaelen felt something like contentment. Muted, filtered, but present.
"Better?" Lia asked quietly.
"Yeah," Kaelen said. And meant it. Mostly.
She nestled against him, her scarred hand resting over his marked chest. "We'll figure this out. Whatever changes come, whatever distance develops—we'll figure it out."
"Promise?" Kaelen asked.
"Promise," Lia replied.
But neither of them was entirely certain.
Because the distance was real. The transformation was continuing. And neither of them knew where it would lead.
For now, though, they had this moment. This connection. This reminder that despite everything, they were still fundamentally themselves.
It would have to be enough.
---
Later, after Lia had fallen asleep, Kaelen lay awake staring at the tent ceiling.
He could feel Soulrender's consciousness more clearly now. Not intrusive, but present. A second awareness sharing his mind, commenting on thoughts, offering perspectives.
*You fear losing her*, Soulrender observed.
*Yes*, Kaelen thought.
*But you may have already begun losing her. Not through action, but through transformation. You become less compatible with each change.*
*I know.*
*Does she know?*
Kaelen looked at Lia's sleeping form. At the woman who'd stood beside him through impossible odds, who'd risked her life repeatedly, who'd accepted his corruption without hesitation.
Who might not be able to accept what he was becoming.
*She knows something's wrong*, Kaelen thought. *But not how bad it might get.*
*Then perhaps honesty is required*, Soulrender suggested. *Before the distance becomes uncrossable.*
*What if honesty ends everything?*
*Then it ends. But at least it ends truthfully rather than through gradual, painful decay.*
Cold logic. But not wrong.
Kaelen pulled Lia closer, feeling her warmth against his changing body. Trying to memorize the sensation before it became just another distant, filtered experience.
Tomorrow they'd return to Eredor. Begin the long process of recovery, reorganization, figuring out what came next.
But tonight, he could pretend everything was fine.
That he wasn't slowly becoming something that couldn't love the way humans love.
That Lia's promise to figure it out together wasn't already starting to ring hollow.
Tomorrow would bring hard conversations and harder truths.
Tonight, he had this.
And he held onto it like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.
Knowing it might not be enough to save him.
But unable to let go regardless.