Valdorne's sky stretched above the fortress like black silk dusted in silver. The twin moons reflected off the polished stones of the highest tower, where only the wind dared to roam.
Zera stood near the edge, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid, Clarent sheathed at her side. The cool breeze tugged at her cape.
Shin arrived quietly.
"You called for me?" he asked.
"I did," she said. "No battlefield. No ceremony. Just blades."
He nodded. "Then show me the form you've honed."
They stepped apart and drew together—not to fight, but to flow.
Clarent and Yoshimatsu danced in tandem. Shin's mirrored blade met Zera's regal arc in fluid clashes. They weren't striking to win—they were expressing.
"Your posture is looser now," Shin said. "More grounded."
"Yours is sharper," she answered. "Like you've cut something within yourself away."
They circled. Moonlight flickered across their crests.
After their kata slowed, they remained still, swords lowered.
Zera smirked lightly. "That was just the warm-up, wasn't it?"
Shin nodded, raising Yoshimatsu again. "Let's see how far we've come."
They lunged.
Steel clashed with steel in rapid succession. The sparring intensified—no longer a quiet conversation of forms, but a storm of momentum and drive. Zera's movements were regal but unpredictable, her blade striking with the weight of command and the elegance of a dancer. Shin countered with fluid precision, his steps like flowing water cutting through rock.
Each impact reverberated across the tower as their blades sang under moonlight. They fought harder than training should allow—testing each other, pushing each limit. Sweat glistened at their temples, breath quickening, hearts pounding.
Then something changed.
A final clash brought them chest to chest, blades locked, eyes locked tighter. Neither gave ground.
"Knighthood," Zera said between breaths, "was once my cage. Now it is my language."
Shin looked into her eyes. "You speak it beautifully."
"I feared losing myself in this party of warriors and assassins," she said. "But you never asked me to change. Only to fight beside you."
"You've led men longer than I have," Shin said. "But I trust you not just for that. You make those around you braver."
Zera took a breath, lowering her blade, not in surrender—but in revelation. "Even now, I wonder… am I allowed to want more?"
He mirrored her motion, sheathing Yoshimatsu. "Zera—"
"Let me finish." Her voice was calm but earnest. "I've come to respect every woman who shares your burden. And I will never step beyond the honor they've earned. But still…"
She looked up, moonlight catching the sharp gleam in her emerald eyes. "I love you, Shin. In the quiet between battles. In the thunder of steel. I love you."
Shin didn't speak immediately. But his hand reached forward—gentle, not commanding—and touched her shoulder.
"I know," he said softly. "And I cherish your words."
Zera stepped closer, gaze still locked to his.
"This moment is not for war," she whispered. "Nor prophecy."
He didn't resist as she leaned in.
Their lips met—not urgently, but purposefully. Zera kissed with the grace of a knight pledging fealty, and with the heart of a woman claiming truth. Her fingers brushed lightly along the side of his neck, drawing herself closer until her body pressed into his. It wasn't a kiss to ask permission. It was a kiss that declared what she felt but had never dared to say aloud.
Her breath trembled as she deepened it, slow and firm, her mouth parting just enough to taste the warmth of his resolve. Her other hand moved to his chest, fingers splayed above his heartbeat as if memorizing its rhythm. Shin responded gently, his hands sliding to her waist—not possessive, but steady, grounding her in the reality of the moment.
She pressed further into him, lips growing bolder with each heartbeat. The tower disappeared. There was only the echo of her desire and the warmth of his acceptance. A sigh escaped her when he returned the kiss with firmer purpose, one hand lifting to cradle the back of her head.
When she finally pulled back, her breath came in shallow bursts, cheeks flushed, eyes glistening. She was a knight, yes—but in this instant, she was simply a woman laying bare her heart.
"You make me feel seen," she said, voice thick with emotion.
Shin brushed a strand of her golden hair behind her ear and nodded. "You are," he said. "Always."
He stepped toward the tower's edge and pulled a velvet-wrapped package from within his coat.
"I had this forged," he said. "It's not enchanted—not yet. But it's bonded to me. A mirrored gauntlet. For your off-hand."
Zera unwrapped it slowly. The gauntlet shimmered in moonlight—a fusion of mithril and mirror-stone. Etched on the knuckles: a fox's crest. On the wrist: her own sigil, bound in silver.
She slipped it on. It fit perfectly.
"Then I will strike with both our legacies," she said, and she drew Clarent again, saluting him with it.
"No," Shin said. "We strike as one."
They stood together on the roof, no longer prince and knight—but equals, moonlit and indivisible.