Evening came gently, like the world was trying to apologize in advance.
The little rented house felt warmer than usual.
Comfortable.
Crowded with silence that wasn't awkward—just… full.
Tomorrow felt close.
Everyone could feel it.
Which is probably why they didn't pretend tonight was normal.
They let truth breathe.
It started with Liora.
She wasn't dramatic about it. She didn't announce she was sharing her past. She just… started talking while sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, chin resting on her knees.
"All of you already assume I grew up tough," she said, eyes unfocused. "Let me confirm the rumor: you are correct."
Aiden sat beside her quietly.
Seris listened without interrupting.
Ardent, unusually respectful, stopped smiling.
"I didn't grow up poor," Liora continued. "I grew up… owned."
She let that hang there.
Owned.
The word tasted like metal in the air.
"My family wasn't important enough to be nobility. Not insignificant enough to be invisible either. We were useful."
Her voice stayed steady.
"That made us valuable."
Her hands folded slowly.
"When nobles break rules, they hide it under paperwork. When they want something that isn't supposed to exist, they get people like my family to facilitate it. We were… intermediaries. Quiet ones. Disposable ones."
She laughed once.
No humor.
"You learn a few things, growing up like that. You learn to smile when someone scares you. You learn to keep breathing while powerful people decide whether you matter next week. And you learn that the worst monsters never roar. They sign documents."
Seris looked away.
Liora noticed.
Smiled gently.
"No, I don't blame you," she said softly. "You're trying to be better than the system. That already puts you in a very small percentage of officials alive."
Seris didn't cry.
But her shoulders shook once.
Liora leaned her head on Aiden's shoulder, almost shyly.
"I left because I got tired of existing only if someone else found me useful. I fight because helplessness is… not an option I allow myself anymore."
She fell quiet.
Aiden wrapped an arm around her without thinking.
She leaned into it like she'd forgotten how to.
She didn't cry either.
But she stopped holding herself together so tightly.
That was enough.
Later, Ardent gestured Aiden outside.
The air was cooler.
Sky darker.
The world quieter.
Perfect for terrible lessons.
Ardent's voice wasn't playful now.
"Listen carefully, Aiden," he said. "I am going to teach you something I never wanted to teach you."
Aiden swallowed.
"Combat wish work," Ardent continued, "is ugly magic. It is desire used like a blade. It weaponizes intention. It turns want into backlash. It takes a person's greed, fear, anger, or desperation… and breaks them with it."
Aiden felt cold.
"Can I refuse?"
"Yes," Ardent smiled faintly. "Which is why I am giving it to you NOW. So when you refuse later, you will do so with knowledge, not ignorance."
He showed Aiden how to listen for desperate wishes in enemies.
How to catch them.
How to tilt them.
How to twist outcomes in ways that hurt.
Aiden hated it.
That was good.
Ardent placed a hand on the back of his neck and leaned forward, forehead touching his lightly.
A very rare gesture of intimacy for something as ancient as him.
"If you must use what I am giving you," he whispered, "do so to survive. Never because it is satisfying. Power is seductive. Predation is easy. Promise me you will remain… Aiden."
"I promise," he whispered.
Ardent closed his eyes briefly in relief.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I am leaving soon… and I need to believe the universe was correct to trust you."
Aiden stiffened.
"What—?"
Ardent smiled.
Soft.
Sad.
But didn't elaborate.
Because tonight was for truths…
…but not all of them.
Not yet.
Seris found Ardent later.
Not demanding.
Not interrogating.
Just… tired.
"Can I ask something that will hurt?" she said quietly.
"Yes," he said gently.
She sat across from him, hands clasped too tightly.
"Is the world always like this?" she whispered. "Systems pretending to protect while actually feeding the powerful? People suffering but paperwork proving it isn't technically happening? Everyone calling it stability while children get used as… tests?"
Ardent didn't lie.
"It has always been like this," he said softly. "Since before humans built cities. Since before my courts learned to dance. Since before gods wrote commandments."
Her eyes closed.
He continued anyway.
"But."
She opened them.
"But there have always been people like you," he said warmly. "Who refuse to pretend. Who hurt because they care. Who don't accept 'this is just how things are' as absolution."
She swallowed.
"That doesn't make it easier."
"No," he smiled sadly. "It makes you braver."
She broke then.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just tears quietly falling that she didn't bother hiding.
And even though he was absolutely terrifying…
she leaned into him.
And Ardent, ancient dignified fae nightmare that he was…
held her like something sacred.
Aiden gave hugs that night.
Not because he was a hero.
Not because it was his role.
Because it was simply who he was.
He hugged Liora when she finally admitted she had never been held without expectation.
He hugged Seris when she whispered she was scared of becoming cruel by accident.
He hugged Ardent too.
Ardent blinked.
Then laughed softly.
Then hugged him back.
Like he might miss it soon.
Night settled.
Everyone eventually slept.
Not peacefully.
But with the relief of people who had finally stopped carrying their pain alone.
Tomorrow waited patiently.
And somewhere in the city…
plans finished aligning.
Wheels locked into place.
The world inhaled.
Ready to tilt.