The rain fell hard against the tower's rooftop, beating like war drums against the stone.
Aeron stood at the edge, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the eastern cliffs.
He knew Cassian was behind him before he turned.
"You've been following her," Cassian said flatly. "Watching."
Aeron didn't deny it. "She's changing."
"She's afraid."
"She should be."
Cassian stepped closer, jaw tight. "And what exactly are you afraid of, Aeron?"
Aeron turned then, the wind catching his cloak. "That whatever's waking in her—it's not all hers. And it won't stop until it's free."
The silence between them crackled like lightning in the distance.
Cassian's voice dropped. "You think she's being possessed?"
"No," Aeron said. "I think she's being chosen."
Cassian stared at him, as if trying to see past the anger. "By what?"
Aeron's eyes darkened. "By someone who's already touched her mind. Maybe even her soul."
He thought of the obsidian chamber. The eyes in the vision. The name he still couldn't speak, because some part of him feared that saying it would make it real.
"She still trusts you," Cassian said at last.
Aeron looked away. "For now."
"Then don't betray it."
The warning in Cassian's voice was quiet, but sharp.
Aeron met his gaze. "Neither should you."
The air between them was heavy—thick with unspoken truths and ancient magic neither of them fully understood.
They were both warriors. Both protectors.
But Liara wasn't just a woman anymore.
She was the fault line between what was and what was coming.
And the ground beneath them was starting to break.