The first pale light of dawn filtered through the dusty shutters, cutting the dimness of the inn room with thin bands of gold. The smell of last night's fire lingered faintly in the air, mixed with the soft scent of Fenrona's hair. Cid stirred first, his body instinctively tense before his mind caught up to the quiet.
Fenrona lay pressed against him, her silver hair spilling over his chest like silk, warm breath brushing the base of his throat. One of her wolf ears twitched as his arm shifted around her, but she didn't wake immediately. For a rare moment, peace didn't feel like a lie to him.
He studied her face in the soft light—softer now without the dirt and blood from the fight. Her lashes trembled faintly, her lips parted in a slow breath. He leaned down, brushing his lips over her forehead.
Her eyes fluttered open, violet irises catching the dim light. "Good morning… love," she whispered, voice still heavy with sleep.
He raised a brow, smirking faintly. "Love?"
She blushed, looking away. "It just… felt right. I can stop if you—"
"No," he interrupted, brushing a stray lock from her cheek. "I like it."
Her smile warmed, and they held each other's gaze for a heartbeat too long before their lips met—slow and careful at first, then deepening, until they both pulled back, breath mingling.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was weighty, filled with something unspoken but felt.
"I love you," Cid said quietly, the words steady but carrying a raw honesty he couldn't have spoken months ago.
Fenrona's tail gave an unmistakable twitch. "I've always loved you, love," she said, smiling as if the confession had been waiting on her tongue for days. "Even before I knew what it meant."
Cid chuckled. "First time I've seen your tail wag like that."
She groaned, burying her face in his chest. "It only happens when I'm too happy."
"You don't need to hide it," he murmured, tilting her chin up again. "I love everything about you—even the things you think you should hide."
Her smile trembled, and for a moment her eyes glistened.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
"Nothing," she whispered. "It's just… no one's ever said that to me before."
Cid drew in a slow breath. "Fen…"
"…Yes?"
"When this cursed road is over—when the fighting's done—let's go to Alfrey. Let's get married."
Her eyes widened, breath catching. She stared at him as if trying to see if he meant it.
He did.
"Yes," she said at last, her voice breaking into a smile. "That would be nice."
He leaned in and kissed her again, this time slower, more deliberate, sealing the promise in the warmth between them.
They dressed and descended to the tavern's dining hall, the smell of roasted meat and bitter coffee meeting them. Arthur and Merly were already seated; Merly waved with one hand, her other wrapped around a warm mug. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but got a sharp glare from Merly that shut him up instantly.
Cid and Fenrona slid into the seats beside them.
"We'll eat, then head out," Merly said, dabbing at her lips. "Shadow-Lair is still three days from here."
"We're stopping at the market first," Fenrona announced firmly.
Cid raised a brow. "We are?"
Her look told him she wasn't asking.
Arthur smirked. "Trust me, Lynvern. It's easier to fight a chimera than to win that argument."
The market was already bustling despite the early hour. Stalls lined the cobbled square, draped in bright cloth, the air thick with scents of hot bread, fried spices, and freshly cut leather. Smiths hammered away in the distance, their strikes ringing out over the chatter of merchants.
Fenrona moved between stalls with purpose, stopping at a shop tucked between a charm-seller and a weaponsmith. Inside, bolts of fabric shimmered faintly, infused with protective enchantments.
"You're the Red Moon hunters, aren't you?" the shopkeeper, an older woman with sun-browned skin, said with a smile. "Bless the gods you came when you did. My cousin's stable was nearly torn apart last night."
"We just did what had to be done," Fenrona said politely, running her hands over a length of magic-thread fabric.
Cid picked out a black, close-fitting shirt and a long hooded coat, its inner lining soft but reinforced with fine runic stitching. He kept his father's worn belt, where his staff still hung.
Fenrona emerged in a white sweater with a polished black stone at the collar, a long grey coat that caught the light with faint silvery threads, and a black belt built for her rapier.
Cid stared a moment longer than intended. "You somehow look even more beautiful."
Her tail wagged once before she stilled it. "You look good too, love."
Arthur and Merly were waiting outside; Arthur raised a brow at their new outfits. "Finally look like you belong in a fight—and not a back alley."
"Fighters in love," Arthur added with a grin. "That's terrifying."
Merly smacked his shoulder. "Come on. We have ground to cover."
They left the village before noon, the cobbled streets giving way to dirt roads lined with pale grass and the occasional twisted oak. The sun hung high, but the wind off the distant hills carried a hint of coolness.
Arthur fell into step beside Cid. "You're quiet today."
"Just thinking," Cid said.
"About her?" Arthur nodded toward Fenrona, who was walking with Merly ahead of them.
Cid's mouth curved faintly. "Always."
Arthur gave a small, almost wistful smile. "Good. Hold onto that. Roads like ours… they try to take things like that from you."
"I know," Cid replied. "That's why I'm not letting go."
Three days passed in steady, quiet travel. The land shifted beneath their boots—the cracked plains giving way to low ridges and scattered trees, then to a dark forest whose canopy swallowed the sky. The air grew cooler with every mile, and the wind carried the scent of stone and hidden water.
By the third night, the stars were veiled by heavy clouds. Only a few silver streaks of moonlight pierced through the branches, casting the path in narrow strips of pale glow. Ahead, beyond the blackened tree line, a faint shimmer of light stirred in the distance—like embers caught between the ribs of the mountains.
"Shadow-Lair," Arthur said quietly, almost reverently.
Fenrona's ears perked, her hand tightening around Cid's. "It's real."
Cid gave a faint nod. "More real than most places."
They reached the entrance just as the last gold of the sun sank behind the dunes. The mouth of the lair yawned before them—two jagged cliffs leaning inward to form a shadowed arch. From that darkness, figures emerged.
The guards' faces were half-covered with scarves woven in dark cloth, their eyes sharp beneath the folds. Hands rested loosely on weapons, but there was nothing careless in their stance.
One stepped forward, speaking in a low, fluid tongue. The words rolled like gravel softened by rain—unfamiliar to Fenrona, but not to Cid.
He answered without hesitation, his voice steady in the same language.
The guard's eyes widened. "My king, my queen," he said, switching to the common tongue and bowing to Arthur and Merly. "What brings you to our hidden hearth?"
Arthur's reply was short, clipped. "Time itself is breaking. We came for wisdom—and these two will aid us."
Cid stepped forward, still holding Fenrona's hand. "I'm Cidolfus Lynvern," he said. "And this is my fiancée, Fenrona."
Fenrona blinked, glancing up at him. "You… speak their language?"
He glanced at her, a small smile tugging his lips. "My father made sure I learned every tongue he knew. This one… was the first."
At the mention of his surname, the guard straightened sharply. "Lynvern… son of Charlie?"
"You knew my father?" Cid asked.
"Everyone in the lair knew him," the guard said with quiet pride. "He helped us defeat the Son of Time—Thurfer. His name is still spoken in our halls."
From the shadows at the mouth of the cave, another voice rumbled—a voice older, heavier, worn by years of command. "I'd thought to call on Charlie again… but then I heard what happened to Moonlight."
A figure stepped into the firelit fringe. His hair was streaked with white, his shoulders still broad despite the stoop of age. His gaze fixed on Cid with the sharpness of a knife point.
"You're telling me," the man said slowly, "that someone survived that hell? And it's none other than the cursed son of Charlie?"
"Father…" Merly's voice was soft but carried weight.
Harold, the man, looked to Arthur. "And you bring him here? A child pretending to be the cursed heir of my oldest friend?"
Cid's jaw tightened, his grip on Fenrona's hand firming. "If you truly knew my father, you'd know he didn't lie. And if he told you I existed… you'd know what I am." He took a step forward, voice low. "Go ahead. Try to sense my magic. Try to find my core."
Harold's eyes narrowed. The silence between them was tense enough to snap.
Finally, the older man exhaled through his nose. "I already tried," he admitted. "There's nothing there. No magic. No core. I wanted to see if you knew how to hide it—to test you."
Cid's expression didn't change. "And?"
"And now I see you don't need to hide anything." Harold's voice softened, if only slightly. "You're your father's son, for better or worse. Welcome to Shadow-Lair."
Arthur stepped past them both, his tone flat. "You could've trusted us from the start."
"I trust nothing easily," Harold said. "You know that."
Merly stepped in. "We didn't come for trust. We came to learn."
Harold nodded once, motioning them forward. "Then follow. The lair has waited long enough."
The passage swallowed them in cold shadow. Their steps echoed on stone, and the air smelled of iron and deep earth. Faint light spilled from sconces carved directly into the rock—glowing crystals humming softly as if alive.
When the narrow tunnel finally opened, the breath caught in Fenrona's throat. Before them stretched a vast cavern, larger than any hall in Camelot. Homes of carved stone clung to the cliffside walls, their windows lit by the same strange crystal light. Bridges of rope and planks connected the tiers, swaying gently in the underground breeze.
And at the center, a massive pit burned with pale fire—a training arena, its floor ringed with symbols etched so deep they seemed to drink the light around them.
Fenrona's voice was a whisper. "It's like a city inside the mountain…"
Cid's gaze lingered on the pit. "It's more than a city. This is where warriors are made."
Harold turned to them. "And where curses are either broken… or learned to be wielded."
The forge-temple loomed ahead, its black stone walls veined with faintly glowing runes. The air here was warmer than the mountain wind outside, scented faintly of forge-smoke and herbs burned in offering. The steady hum of life echoed faintly through the stone, as if the mountain itself breathed.
"This whole village…" Fenrona murmured, turning in place to take in the carved balconies, the winding bridges of rope and wood, the glowing crystals that lit the cavern.
"Just like my father described," Cid replied, his voice carrying a note of memory.
Harold's stride didn't slow. "This is where you'll train," he said, stopping at the heavy double doors of the great hall. "From tomorrow onward, you begin learning our techniques. Even you, Cidolfus."
Cid lifted a brow. "I have no magic."
"The one who created these techniques," Harold said, glancing over his shoulder, "had none either. You'll find scrolls and relics older than the kingdoms themselves here. But to understand them, you'll have to learn the old tongue."
Fenrona tilted her head toward Cid, her voice low. "What's he saying, love?"
Cid smiled faintly, translating for her. Her face lit with sudden warmth. "Then we'll learn together," she said quickly. "And you'll teach me this language too, right?"
His hand squeezed hers, a quiet promise. "We will."
The doors swung open with a low groan, revealing the inner chamber. The first thing they noticed was the heat—not oppressive, but comforting, radiating from the great central fire pit that burned low in the center of the room.
And there, perched on a carved bench beside the flames, sat a girl—no older than ten. Her hair was split evenly down the middle, one side pale blond, the other shimmering silver. Her eyes caught the firelight and fractured it into shifting hues of green and silver, as if each glance carried two worlds inside it.
She wore dark, well-worn clothes, her boots dangling far above the floor as she swung her legs idly. When she noticed them, her whole face lit up.
"Big brother!" she called, darting forward before Arthur could say a word.
Arthur laughed softly, bending to lift her up into his arms. "Hey, Sith."
Merly's smile warmed. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine!" Sith said, her voice bright as birdsong. She glanced past them, curiosity burning in her strange eyes. "Who are they?"
Arthur shifted her in his arms. "Friends. They're here to help us."
Cid stepped forward, lowering himself so they were eye level. "I'm Cidolfus. This is my fiancée, Fenrona." His voice softened as he smiled. "Can we be your friends too?"
Sith tilted her head, studying him for a moment with an almost comically serious expression. Then she broke into a grin. "Will you play with me?"
Cid's lips curved. "Of course."
Her smile widened into pure joy. "Then you'll be my big, big brother!"
"Hey!" Arthur objected.
Merly leaned on her elbow, smirking. "He is taller."
"I'm a king!" Arthur protested.
The laughter that followed was easy and unforced, echoing warmly through the chamber. Even Harold's stern expression cracked into a small chuckle.
Harold cleared his throat and looked to Sith. "Where do you want to stay tonight, little one?"
Sith tapped her chin dramatically, then pointed at Cid. "With big, big brother! He looks more fun."
Arthur shot Cid a glare sharp enough to cut stone. "I'm going to kill you."
Cid just grinned. "Come on, Sith. Let's teach Fenrona how to speak your language, so she can play too."
"Really?!" Sith bounced in Arthur's arms until he put her down. She ran to Fenrona and took her hand. "You'll play with us too? Yay! Come on, I'll show you our room!"
The corridors to the guest quarters were quiet, the walls etched with soft lines of runic script. Their footsteps echoed until they reached a carved wooden door banded with iron. Sith pushed it open proudly.
The room was larger than Cid expected—two chambers connected by an open archway, both warmed by a crystal lamp glowing softly in the corner.
"You and sis can sleep here," Sith announced cheerfully, pointing to the bigger bed, "and I'll sleep over there!"
She stifled a yawn, rubbing her eyes. Moments later she had curled up in her bed, her breathing slow and even.
The quiet settled like a blanket. Cid sat down beside Fenrona, the glow of the crystal lamp painting her silver hair with firelight.
"You introduced me as your fiancée," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder. Her tail gave a slow wag. "I liked how that sounded."
"You are," Cid replied, brushing a stray lock from her face. "In every way that matters."
Her smile grew faint and warm. "You always know what to say to make me happy."
"That's what I'm here for," he murmured.
Her ears lowered slightly, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. "Love… do you think we can really do this? It's not like anything we've faced before."
"I don't know if we're strong enough yet," Cid admitted, his hand resting gently on her hair. "But I know we'll face it together. And I'll do everything in my power to protect you—and Sith."
Her tail gave another slow, happy wag.
They sat like that for a long moment before lying down together, her head resting over his heart.
"I love you," Fenrona whispered.
"I love you too, Fen," Cid said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
The mountain was silent outside, but inside their room, there was only the slow, steady rhythm of two hearts in sync.
The distant clang of hammer on metal rang faintly through the stone halls, accompanied by muffled footsteps and the low murmur of voices. Warm light spilled from the crystal sconces along the walls, chasing away the cool blue shadows of the mountain dawn.
Cid stirred first. Fenrona was still curled against him, her silver hair a soft curtain across his chest. He brushed it gently aside and kissed the top of her head. Her ears twitched in response, but she didn't wake until he murmured, "Time to get up, love."
She blinked up at him, the corners of her lips curving. "Morning…"
Sith was already stirring in the smaller bed across the room, rubbing her eyes. "Big, big brother! Good morning! Good morning, sis!" she chirped, her voice still thick with sleep.
Fenrona laughed, scooping her into a hug even though she didn't understand every word. Sith giggled and buried her face against Fenrona's shoulder.
The three of them made their way down to the dining hall, the air thick with the scent of roasted grain and strong coffee. Harold sat at the head of the long table, a steaming cup cradled in his scarred hands.
"Morning," he greeted with a short nod. "Eat quickly. Training starts soon."
Fenrona slid into the seat beside Merly. "Good morning," she said, reaching for a plate.
Cid dropped into the chair across from her, already piling food in front of himself. "I'm hungry," he admitted without shame.
"You're always hungry, love," Fenrona teased, her eyes warm with amusement.
"Not as bad as Arthur," Merly added with a smirk.
Arthur, mid-bite, frowned. "What?"
"I told you a hundred times," Merly said sharply. "Don't talk with your mouth full."
The table broke into laughter. Even Harold's lips twitched before he set his cup down with a thud. "Enough chatter. Time to begin."
The training circle was carved deep into the mountain, its stone floor etched with spiraling runes that glimmered faintly underfoot. The air here was cooler, but there was a steady thrum—like the mountain itself was alive and listening.
"You all know magic as most do," Harold began, standing in the center. "A core inside you, drawing power from within. But our way is different. We draw from the world itself—through particles. They are ever-present, ever-moving, and older than any kingdom."
"Particles?" Cid asked.
"They fuel everything—fire, water, time, even life itself. Learn to move them, and you can reshape the flow of fate. Even strike at the concept of time."
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that without magic?" Cid muttered.
"The one who created these techniques," Harold said, meeting his gaze, "had no core either. Your lack is not a weakness here."
Fenrona leaned closer to Cid. "What's he saying, love?"
He translated quietly, and she gave him a small, eager smile. "Then we'll learn together."
Harold clapped his hands once. "Begin with meditation. Feel the particles—not with your skin, not with your magic, but with your will."
They all knelt in the circle. The air settled into silence, the only sound their breathing.
Merly's control was evident—within minutes she was hovering, her body outlined by a faint ripple in the air. Arthur followed, his aura flickering with unstable bursts of elemental energy—fire, frost, and lightning sparking briefly before fading.
Then Fenrona rose a few inches off the ground, her eyes wide in awe. "Cid, look!"
"You're doing great," he said, smiling faintly.
He closed his eyes again. Not for me… For Emily. For Fen. For Sith.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, tiny sparks of light appeared—flickering like fireflies, impossible to hold. He reached for them—not gently, but with the same unyielding will that had kept him alive through fire, blood, and loss.
The air shifted.
Particles stirred around him, responding to that will. His body felt lighter—unbound—and slowly, his boots left the ground.
"You did it!" Fenrona's voice was bright with pride.
Cid opened his eyes to see himself suspended in the air, faint motes swirling lazily around him. A quiet certainty settled in his chest. I will be strong enough… strong enough to protect them all.
"Good," Harold said, his grin sharp. "Now comes the real work. Moving them. Shaping them."
He stepped forward, particles gathering around his hands like mist drawn to a flame. "With them, you can strike harder, move faster, dodge like a shadow. Coat your hand in particles, and you can wound without touching. Touch, and you destroy from the inside."
Cid eyed the stone wall at the edge of the circle. He closed his eyes, drew the particles to his fist, and struck. The wall cracked like it had been hit by a hammer, though his knuckles never touched it.
His eyes widened. "That…"
"That," Harold finished, "is outer force. Now—dodge."
He struck at Cid, his movement a blur. Instinct and particles moved Cid's body sideways in perfect time, the blow missing him by inches.
"That's it," Harold said. "You don't think. You trust."
They drilled for hours—strikes, dodges, bursts of movement that left the air rippling. By the time Harold called an end, the cavern was lit gold by the fading sun beyond the mountain's edge, and sweat soaked every one of them.
"That's enough for today," Harold said, satisfaction in his voice. "Tomorrow, we push further."
The ache of training still lingered in Cid's muscles when he stepped forward toward Harold.
"Harold… where's the library?"
The older man raised an eyebrow, studying him for a long moment. "Follow me."
Behind them, Merly had already stepped toward Fenrona. "Come with me. I'll teach you the language our people speak here in the Lair. You'll need it if you want to barter, ask questions, or make friends. Arthur still hasn't learned it properly," she added with a teasing glance over her shoulder.
"I've been busy," Arthur grumbled.
"You've been lazy," Merly countered, and led Fenrona away with a small smile.
Cid followed Harold through narrow, torch-lit tunnels that wound deeper into the mountain. The air was cool here, with a faint metallic tang, and the walls were carved smooth by centuries of careful hands. They stopped before a tall stone doorway etched with curling runes.
"This is it," Harold said, resting a hand against the ancient stone. "The oldest knowledge in the Shadow-Lair."
Cid's gaze shifted briefly toward the break in the wall that gave view to the distant edge of the village—where a black wound split the land in two. "One more thing… That hole out there—what is it?"
Harold's voice lowered. "It's where the Shadow defeated Time."
Cid's brow furrowed. "The Shadow?"
"The one I told you about. The first to wield our techniques. Like you, he had no magic, but he changed the course of the world. Go inside, boy. You may find truths even I don't fully understand."
Inside, the air was heavy with parchment and dust. Lamps cast soft golden light on towering shelves of scrolls and books bound in leather so worn they seemed ready to crumble at a touch. Behind a long desk sat a silver-haired woman, her hair pulled into a single long braid, her eyes sharp and watchful.
"I'm looking for the oldest scrolls on the Shadow and your techniques," Cid said.
Without a word, she rose and vanished into the labyrinth of shelves. When she returned, she carried a bundle wrapped in deep blue cloth, bound with a strip of black leather.
"These," she said, "should be enough for now."
Cid took the bundle with both hands and gave a respectful nod. "Thank you."
When he returned to his quarters, the lamplight pooled over the desk. He unwrapped the bundle and spread the scrolls out before him, the inked symbols dancing in a language his mind struggled to grasp. The ancient script fought him with every line, but he forced himself to match shape to sound, sound to meaning.
Hours passed, broken only by the steady scratch of his quill as he jotted rough translations in the margins.
The door burst open without warning.
"Big, big brother!" Sith cried, racing toward him with her arms wide.
Cid smiled, scooping her up effortlessly. "Hey, Sith. How was training?"
She puffed her cheeks. "Uncle keeps saying 'focus, focus, focus'—but it's hard!"
"You can do it," came Fenrona's voice from the doorway. She stepped inside, looking tired but bright-eyed.
"Yes, we believe in you," Cid added, setting Sith down before meeting Fenrona halfway and greeting her with a gentle kiss. "Welcome back."
Sith wrinkled her nose and hugged him from the side. "He's my brother!" she declared.
They all laughed, the sound echoing warmly off the stone walls. For the next while, the three of them sat together on the floor, playing simple word games that merged Cid's translations, Fenrona's lessons from Merly, and Sith's boundless energy. Fenrona stumbled through new phrases in the Shadow-Lair tongue, her accent making Sith giggle until she toppled backward into a pile of pillows.
When Sith finally yawned and curled up in her bed, one small hand clutching the blanket like she feared it might drift away, the room settled into a quieter rhythm.
Fenrona sat beside Cid in the flicker of candlelight, brushing parchment dust from his hair. "You've been working hard," she murmured.
"So have you," he said, tracing the back of her hand with his thumb.
"Let's make a promise," she said after a moment.
"Anything."
"No matter what happens… let's always find time for each other. Just you and me. Let's not lose ourselves in all this training."
He kissed her temple. "Every night, Fen. I swear it."
She smiled and leaned in for a slow kiss, one they both needed after the strain of the day. "I was proud of you today, love."
"And I am of you, honey," he replied, smiling at the way her ears twitched in quiet joy.
They stayed like that for a while before moving to the bed. Fenrona lay against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. "So that's what peace feels like," she murmured.
"You make it feel real," he said, brushing a silver strand from her face.
"I love you," she whispered, her voice already soft with sleep.
"I love you too," he murmured, kissing her lips once more, then her forehead.
As she drifted off, Cid's gaze drifted to the half-translated scrolls. The world is changing, he thought. And this time… I won't face it alone.
His eyes returned to Fenrona, her breathing slow and even, and his arms tightened around her. "I'll protect this," he whispered. "You, Sith… this peace. No matter the cost."
A year had passed in the Shadow-Lair.
Days bled into one another, not with monotony, but with a quiet rhythm that began to feel… natural.
Each morning began the same way—Harold's voice echoing through the stone halls, calling them to the training arena. Arthur and Merly sparred in the open circle, his chaos magic flaring unpredictably until Merly's steady presence anchored him again. Fenrona drilled with the Lair's hunters, her blade moving faster with each month as her ear for the local language sharpened under Merly's patient teaching. Sith trained in her own way—darting through obstacle courses set up by the older warriors, her laughter ringing through the caverns even when she tripped and fell.
And Cid… when training ended, he always drifted back to the same place—his desk in the quiet corner of their shared chamber, where stacks of scrolls and hand-written notes surrounded him like a paper fortress. By day's end, his hands were ink-stained and his mind heavy with the strange, looping words of the ancient tongue.
Tonight was different. Tonight, the last scroll lay open in front of him, the final unknown glyphs now neatly inked in his notes.
Cid leaned back in the wooden chair, staring at it for a long moment. "Finally," he whispered, the word tasting both foreign and satisfying. "I've translated everything."
For a moment, he closed his eyes and let the weight of the year settle over him—the long hours, the headaches from deciphering faded script, the slow crawl toward understanding. The Shadow—he wasn't just a name in a story. Not a hunter's boast or a fireside myth. He was something far older, far heavier. And now… Cid could read it all.
He opened the first scroll again, running his fingers over the inked lines. Now I can read it. Now I can know more about you, Shadow.
Footsteps approached, quick and light, and the door creaked open.
"Big, big brother!" Sith burst in, beaming as if the world itself had no reason to ever be dark. "Come and play with me!"
Cid's eyes stayed on the parchment for a moment longer before he looked at her. "Not today, okay, Sith?"
Her smile faltered instantly. "But… you promised…" Her ears drooped, and her little shoulders slumped.
That look was enough to pull him from the chair. He knelt in front of her, resting a hand on her head. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm working on something important right now. Tomorrow, I'll play with you twice as long. Deal?"
Her eyes lit up again. "Really?"
Cid tapped her forehead with a grin. "Really."
She nodded firmly. "Then I'll go to sleep now so tomorrow comes faster!" She yawned and scrambled into her bed in the next room, wrapping herself in her blanket like a little cocoon.
As the sound of her breathing settled into the quiet, Fenrona stepped into the room, her silver hair slightly tousled from training, a faint smile playing at her lips.
"So," she teased lightly, "how's the translation going, love?"
"I finished it," Cid said, and even hearing it out loud felt strange, as if he'd been carrying that sentence in his head for months.
Fenrona's ears perked. "Truly? What did you learn?"
Cid's eyes dropped to the scroll. "It's not a name," he said quietly. "Shadow… it's what he is. One line keeps repeating: For every light, there is shadow. I am the shadow of creation."
He looked at her. "It means he was born when creation itself decided to form the world. He's not just a man—he's the balance to everything."
He hesitated, his tone darkening. "but there's nothing about my curse. The scroll doesn't even say he had no magic… but that he could shape the world through particles, even without a core. And it speaks of Thurfer—the Son of Time. Half celestial, half human. That's why he wanted Sith and her mother gone—because of what they could mean for the future. But the Shadow… the Shadow understood."
Fenrona's voice was softer now, her words in the Shadow-Lair dialect she'd spent the year mastering. "Tell me more tomorrow, love. I'm tired." She half-fell onto the bed, stretching out with a sigh.
Cid chuckled, walking over and leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You've worked hard, I'm proud of you, Fen."
Her ears twitched and her tail gave a lazy wag. "Thank you, love. But you're the one doing the harder job. I should be saying that to you."
"I love you, honey," he said as he pulled the blanket over her shoulders.
She caught his hand before he could step away, her grip firm. "Don't go. You promised—in the nights, I'm your mine and only mine."
His smile softened. "Don't worry, honey. I'm here."
He lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. His fingers combed gently through her silver hair, brushing it back from her face.
"Good night, love," she murmured, already drifting into sleep.
"Good night, honey," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead before closing his eyes. Outside, the mountain air was cold, but between them, warmth held steady.
Morning came softly, the Shadow-Lair unusually quiet. A faint hum of distant voices echoed through the stone corridors, but the usual clang of training weapons was absent. Cid and Fenrona dressed and made their way to the dining hall, hand in hand.
Arthur and Merly were already seated at the long stone table, Harold in his usual spot at the head, cradling a steaming mug of bitter coffee.
"Happy birthday, Merly," Cid and Fenrona said together as they spotted her.
Merly's cheeks warmed, and she placed a hand over her chest. "Thank you."
Harold finished the last sip of his drink and set the cup down with a firm clink. "Good you're here. There will be no training today. I intend to spend the day with my daughter."
They all shared a hearty breakfast—laughing, teasing Arthur whenever his mouth was too full to defend himself—before Harold, Arthur, and Merly left for their celebration.
Fenrona lingered by Cid's side, her expression softening. "I'm going to the language practice, okay, love?"
"Of course, honey. You don't need to ask."
Her ears twitched, and her tail gave a small, delighted sway. "Honey? You've been calling me that a lot lately," she teased.
"Well," Cid grinned, "you started it."
He leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting from playful to serious. "Honey… I think it's time we get married."
Fenrona tilted her head, ears perking. "You mean today?"
"If you don't want to, we can wait," Cid said. "I know we talked about doing it in the Alfrey capital… but after everything we've faced, I don't need to wait to call you my wife."
Her smile spread until her cheeks glowed. "Of course I'll marry you, love. Wherever you want, whenever you want."
"That's a yes, then," Cid said, laughing as he reached to gently touch her tail. "Tonight, when they return… you'll finally be my wife."
She kissed him slowly, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Love you," she whispered, heading off to her lesson.
Left alone, Cid's eyes drifted toward the scrolls on his desk. The particles… there's more I can do with them. If the translation's right… this could change everything.
"Big, big brother?" Sith's voice chirped from behind him, tugging at his coat. "Can we play now?"
He turned and knelt to her height. "You still need to train, Sith. You have to learn to control your powers."
"But Harold said no training today…"
Cid smirked. "Then we'll train together, just you and me."
Her eyes lit up instantly. "Really?! You'll train with me?"
"Of course," Cid said warmly. "You're my little sister."
The two headed to the training grounds. Sunlight filtered through a narrow crack in the cavern ceiling, breaking into golden beams across the arena floor.
"What's your usual training?" Cid asked.
Sith straightened proudly. "Shooting lightning at a target."
"Then today," Cid said, stepping to the center, "I'll be the target. You try to hit me—and I'll try to dodge."
Her brow furrowed. "Can you really dodge lightning?"
"Try me."
The first bolt cracked through the air—fast, hot, and sharp. Cid barely twisted aside in time, the electric heat grazing past his cheek.
"You dodged!" Sith gasped, before grinning. "Okay! I'm going all out!"
The second bolt came faster. This time, Cid reached for the particles, letting them swirl and cling to his hands. The lightning met his grasp—and he deflected it away, sending it harmlessly into the stone wall.
They traded attacks and dodges, Sith's power growing with each attempt. Cid's movements grew sharper, his control more precise. The final bolt came in a blinding flash, and he caught it mid-air, dispersing it safely into the ground.
Breathing hard, he grinned. "You're getting better every day."
Sith's smile turned victorious. "And I win!"
They laughed together before heading back inside.
Evening fell, and the celebration party returned—Harold, Arthur, and Merly carrying the smell of roasted meat and wine with them.
"So you want to marry her, kid?" Harold asked as Cid stepped forward.
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'll fetch the priest," Harold said without hesitation, striding back out.
"Finally, you two…" Arthur began, before Merly's hand smacked the back of his head.
"Congratulations," she said with a warm smile.
It wasn't long before Harold returned with the priest. Under the flickering torchlight of the Shadow-Lair's main hall, Cid and Fenrona stood together, hands clasped, and spoke their vows. The crowd of villagers and friends cheered, raising cups in their honor.
That night, the four of them shared drinks and laughter before parting ways to their rooms.
"I love you, honey," Cid murmured, tipsy but smiling, as he collapsed onto their bed.
From the corner, Sith's voice piped up, amused. "Big, big brother is really drunk." She curled into her own bed, still grinning.
Fenrona lay down beside Cid, pulling the blanket over them both. "Love you too, love," she whispered, hugging him close.
And so their lives returned to their rhythm—training, learning, protecting. But now, Cid and Fenrona were not just cursed children walking the same path. They were husband and wife.
And in the shadows of the mountain, Cid and Sith began to train in secret.
Three years have passed.