The storm broke as they stepped outside.
Rain slashed down the mountain path, cold and relentless, washing ash from stone and blood from memory. Thunder rolled overhead, not distant now, but close enough to feel like the sky was cracking apart.
Kael walked several paces ahead.
Not out of trust. Not out of pride.
Distance felt safer.
Behind him, Liora moved with quiet precision, her presence a constant pressure against his senses. The silver mark beneath her cloak had dimmed since the shrine's rejection, but it hadn't gone dark. Neither had the curse in his veins. Both felt… restrained. Like beasts forced into the same cage, circling but not striking.
Neither spoke.
The monastery loomed behind them — broken, silent, pretending to be dead.
Kael finally stopped beneath the skeletal remains of a stone archway. Rain dripped from his hair onto the black blade at his side.
"You knew it would reject us," he said without turning.
Liora halted. "I suspected."
He laughed once, sharp and humorless. "You nearly got us killed on a suspicion."
She stepped closer, boots crunching on gravel. "No. I nearly got us judged."
Kael turned then, eyes hard. "You gamble with forces that erase cities."
"And you carry one that devours worlds," she shot back. "Don't pretend you're cleaner."
The thunder punctuated the silence between them.
Kael exhaled slowly. "The shrine silenced it."
Her eyes flicked to him. "Yes."
"For the first time," he continued, voice lower, "I couldn't hear Oblivion. No whispers. No hunger."
Liora's expression softened — not with comfort, but with understanding. "The shrine binds will. It strips power down to intent. That's why it rejected us."
"Because we're cursed?"
"Because we're divided."
The words landed heavier than he expected.
Kael looked away, down the mountain path swallowed by fog. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," she replied. "You resist. Most don't. They embrace it, rationalize it, crown it with purpose."
"And you?" he asked. "What do you crown yours with?"
Liora was silent for a long moment. Rain traced lines down her face like silver tears.
"Survival," she said at last. "For the world. Even if it doesn't survive me."
That honesty unsettled him more than any lie.
A sound cut through the storm — metal grinding against stone.
Kael's grip tightened on his sword.
From the fog below, figures emerged.
Five of them.
Black armor etched with crimson sigils. Masks smooth and expressionless, save for a single vertical slit glowing red. Chains hung from their gauntlets, not dragging — waiting.
Inquisitors.
Liora cursed under her breath. "They shouldn't be here yet."
Kael's shadow stretched, restless. "Friends of yours?"
"Enemies of everything unfinished," she replied. "Especially us."
The lead Inquisitor raised a hand. The others stopped in perfect unison.
"Bearer of Oblivion," the voice echoed, distorted and hollow. "And the Silver-Bound Apostate."
So they knew.
"You stand before consecrated ground," the Inquisitor continued. "By decree of the Concord, your existence is a breach."
Liora smiled thinly. "You always did hate nuance."
Chains snapped forward without warning.
Kael moved instantly — blade flashing, shadow surging to meet steel. He severed one chain mid-flight, but another wrapped around his leg, burning with sealing runes.
Liora raised her hand, silver light flaring — then stopped.
The shrine's echo pulsed through the ground.
The chains hesitated.
The Inquisitors faltered, their formation breaking for a fraction of a second.
Kael felt it — the same pressure as before. Judgment. Balance.
"They're weakened," he said.
"Because the shrine marked us," Liora replied. "Incomplete… but not unchosen."
The lead Inquisitor snarled. "Kill them. Now."
Kael met Liora's eyes.
No words.
Just a decision.
Shadow and silver surged together — not colliding this time, but aligning. His crimson chains wrapped around her silver light, stabilizing it. Her power sharpened his, focused it.
The result was devastating.
The mountain path exploded with force. Two Inquisitors were hurled into the ravine, their screams cut short by distance. Another collapsed as Kael's blade pierced through armor and rune alike.
The remaining two retreated, chains snapping back defensively.
"This isn't over," the lead hissed. "The Concord will come."
Liora tilted her head. "They always do."
The Inquisitors vanished into the fog.
Silence returned — broken only by rain and heavy breathing.
Kael released his power first. The curse recoiled, confused but obedient.
Liora lowered her hand, swaying slightly. Kael caught her before she fell.
For a moment, neither pulled away.
"That wasn't supposed to work," he said quietly.
She steadied herself. "It won't again. Not like that."
He frowned. "Why?"
"Because cooperation is temporary," she replied. "And destiny hates it."
Kael looked at the path ahead — fog, danger, unanswered questions.
Then at the woman beside him — silver-bound, unyielding, necessary.
"Temporary is enough," he said.
Liora smiled — not faint, not cruel.
Genuine.
They walked on together into the storm.
Above them, unseen, ancient mechanisms shifted.
The shrine had not chosen them.
But it had noticed.
And something, far older than the Concord, had begun to prepare.