The Vault chamber was silent, save for the breathless hush between them. The energy in the air pulsed like a second heartbeat—ancient, alive, and watching.
Liara stood between them, her pulse pounding in her throat. She could feel it—them. The bond. The heat. The pull of something greater than the Vault itself.
Cassian's fingertips traced the curve of her back with reverence. His touch was soft but sure, filled with meaning. "You're not just the key, Liara," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in her ear. "You're the fire that holds us together."
She turned, and Aeron was there—his dark eyes locked on hers, unreadable but burning. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her lower lip with aching slowness. "You've changed everything," he said quietly. "You've changed me."
Liara exhaled, trembling between them.
Their hands began to explore—not out of lust alone, but with the hunger of hearts that had held back too long. Each touch was a confession. Each kiss, a release. The air was thick with tension, passion, and magic. It thrummed through her veins like lightning, setting every nerve alight.
Cassian kissed her neck, slow and open-mouthed, as Aeron pressed a kiss to her lips—fierce and tender, full of war and surrender.
Their bodies moved with silent understanding, a rhythm formed by fate. Hands slipped beneath cloth, breath caught, and skin met skin in a tangle of heat and unspoken longing. Cassian's laughter, low and full of awe, rumbled in her ear. "You're going to ruin us," he whispered.
"Or save us," Aeron replied, voice raw.
They brought her down onto the velvet-soft cushions near the Vault's core, the ancient runes glowing faintly around them like stars. In that sacred place, they let go—of titles, of burdens, of distance.
They became one.
Three souls, tangled in fire and breath and the gravity of something neither of them could explain. They moved with reverence and desire, mouths meeting, hands roaming, the world outside fading away until there was only the sound of their names whispered into skin.
Cassian.
Aeron.
Liara.
It was a ritual, a claiming, a sacred bond forged in flesh and flame.
And when the last shiver faded into silence, they remained—wrapped around one another, breathless, undone, whole.
For the first time, Liara knew: she wasn't torn between them.
She was held by them.