The atmosphere in the mansion was charged with a static hum that made the fine hairs on Rixsa's arms stand up. Chase was moving with a stiff, mechanical precision, his skin unnaturally warm to the touch. The "Lattice" wasn't just vibrating anymore; it was screaming. By revealing the truth of the Sanctuary, Chase had mentally lowered his internal dams, and the centuries of compressed Warrior Essence were beginning to flood the local space.
"Gym. Now," Rixsa commanded, grabbing Chase by the wrist. Her usual playful smirk was replaced by a look of grim determination. "You're glowing, Chase. And not in the 'healthy tan' kind of way. If you don't vent this, the cliffside is going to become a crater."
As they disappeared into the soundproofed, reinforced training wing, the rest of the house fell into a tentative, watchful silence.
Outside, away from the hum of the electronics and the heavy pressure of the "warrior's" leaks, Kaelen stood in the center of the mansion's garden. Sienna had landscaped it with "Moonflowers"—pale, iridescent blooms that only opened under the light of the stars.
She heard the soft crunch of gravel behind her. She didn't need to turn to know it was Vincent. His presence was like a cool breeze after a summer storm.
"They are beautiful," Vincent said softly, standing a respectful five feet away. "They remind me of the lilies that grew near the Western Gate. Before the soot turned them black."
Kaelen finally turned, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her silk robe. "I didn't think you remembered the Gate. You were always so focused on the maps, the logistics... the war."
"I remembered everything about you, Kaelen," he replied. He looked down at a moonflower, his lavender hair casting a soft shadow over his face. "I remembered how you used to braid your hair with silver wire. I remembered the way you looked at the stars when you thought I wasn't watching. I kept those memories in a box in my mind. It was the only place the gods couldn't reach."
Kaelen took a step closer, her heart hammering against her ribs. For the first time, she wasn't looking at the "Commander" or the "Ghost." She was looking at the boy she had fallen in love with in a world that no longer existed.
"Vincent... I loved you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Every choice I made—even the betrayal—was born from a desperate, selfish need to keep a piece of our life alive. I thought if Alex lived, our history lived."
"I know," Vincent said. He finally looked up, and for the first time, the "Void" in his eyes seemed to have a shore. "And I don't forgive you yet. A hundred years of hunting is a long time to harbor a grudge. But... seeing you here, in this glass house, trying to be 'normal'... it makes the grudge feel heavy. I'm tired of carrying heavy things, Kaelen."
He reached out, his hand hesitating in the air between them. Kaelen didn't wait. she bridged the gap, pressing her palm against his. His skin was cool, a perfect balm to the heat she had been carrying since the night of the fire.
"Can we be... just us?" she asked. "In this Sanctuary? No Legions. No Council."
"I don't know who 'just us' is," Vincent admitted with a tragic, honest smile. "But I think I'd like to find out. As long as the Warrior keeps the doors locked."
Inside the mansion, the "Warrior" was doing anything but keeping things quiet.
The gym's reinforced walls were vibrating. Chase was on his knees in the center of the mat, his shirt discarded. Violet veins of light pulsed beneath his skin, spider-webbing across his chest and shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and iron.
"Come on, Chase! Fight it or feed it, but don't just sit there!" Rixsa yelled, circling him. She was already in her scouting gear, her eyes glowing with a feral green light.
Chase looked up, his eyes entirely violet—no pupils, no iris, just raw, ancient power. "Rixsa... get back. It's too much. I can't... I can't filter it."
"Yes, you can," she snapped, stepping into his space. She didn't use her daggers. She grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. "I'm your anchor, remember? That's the deal. Give it to me. All of it."
The contact was like a lightning strike.
In previous sessions, the release had been clinical—a controlled bleed of energy. But today, with the emotional walls between them crumbling after the battle and the revelations, the connection turned into something far more intimate. As Chase's Essence flowed into Rixsa, she didn't just feel his power; she felt his memories.
She saw the mud of the trenches, the weight of the sword, the loneliness of five hundred years, and finally... her own face, as seen through his eyes. She saw how much he actually cared for her, beneath the "strictly professional" lies he told Vincent.
"Chase..." she gasped, her own power flaring to match his.
The room exploded in a shockwave of violet and green light. The gravity in the gym failed, lifting them both off the mats as the excess Essence poured out of Chase's soul and into the only vessel strong enough to hold it.
They hung in the air, locked together in a storm of their own making. It wasn't just a session anymore. It was a claim.