Dusk had settled over Eclipse City, bathing the streets in a dusty lavender color. With the rise of the evening came the night crowd, bustling through the streets in search of their destination - alight with activity though hushed, as if the moon elves that currently occupied the streets carried a quiet grace with them, even while they were in a hurry.

At this time of evening, inns were practically full of guests - so much so that the two moon elves currently seated in a table at the Purple Lantern didn’t stand out in the slightest. Despite the fact that the young woman’s markings identified her as a cleric, and the older man’s attire and eyepatch indicated that he did not exactly belong in polite society, it was easy to overlook the two while they enjoyed a quiet dinner, neither one willing to speak and break the silence just yet. It was not a tense one - merely… contemplative.

It hadn’t been long since their battle against the Origin Matter, and Cyran was still reeling from the fallout of their fight. Ashamed that he’d lost himself in his emotions, couldn’t even hold it together for Cirice’s sake, and worried about the changes that she’d gone through. Cirice seemed… fine, but Cyran still worried about the magic she’d displayed in her library. So after they’d split up, he did some research, collected books. Practiced spells. Cyran was, admittedly, not a good magical teacher - he doubted he held up to the mages of the guild, much more competent people that were more suited for this task.

But there was something… similar in Cirice’s magic. Not entirely like Cyran’s but close enough that he understood it, knew its siren’s song with an aching familiarity. And while he shoved his darkness down, only used it when absolutely necessary, Cirice harnessed hers. Nurtured it, allowed it to grow, perhaps without any idea about what she was inviting into herself. Far too late to get rid of it. All Cyran could do was attempt to help her control it, use it in moderation.

And if that meant cracking open a spellbook and forcing himself to dark places he’d rather not wander, then it was a worthwhile endeavor.

Theory was one thing, though. Tonight would be a first for him - attempting to tutor someone in spellcasting.

The two were currently waiting for night to fall, having decided to conduct their business under the protection of the moon. Cyran was currently enjoying dinner, listening to the idle chatter around the inn. Waiting for a secret that might be spilled, keeping his eyes and ears peeled out of habit.

“Did you hear? Lord Elthinel is staying here tonight…”

“Truly?”

“I saw him around back with his servants!” The first voice replied excitedly. “Whatever he’s doing here, it must be classified…”

Ah. So that explained the crowd tonight. Cyran leaned forward, inclining his head into his drink so that his features were more obscured. It had been some time since he’d been in Eclipse City proper, and his appearance had changed substantially since his exile, but the paranoia gnawed at him that someone might recognize him. The sooner they were able to leave and make their way to the Lantern Light Woods, the better.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” He murmured kindly, though the lines under his eyes betrayed his worry and fatigue. “We’ve got a long evening ahead of us.”

Cirice had also been listening to the drunken chatter of the inn. She found inns to be a lovely place, full of jolly people drinking their lives away. This inn was no different, though the lives here took a substantially longer time to drink away. She’d never actually been to Eclipse City, always falling just short of the capitol any time she ventured into Moonglade. It was surreal to see so many of her fellow moon elves, considering back on the isles there was much more of a mix between races. There was so much different here and she wanted to absorb every bit of the culture and society and every secret she could find.

“Hmm?” She asks, broken out of her reverie by Cyran’s question. “Oh, yes, I’m ready too. I’ve been looking forward to this! I’ve got so many surprises to show you! I can’t wait to learn from you!”

She grins and then leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Who’s Lord Elthinel? Is he important?”

She didn’t know the names of many political figures around the world, and that had come to bite her in the ass when she’d accidentally met the Princess of Starlight City and treated her like a normal person. She’d realized then she needs to be more careful and try to better understand and identify those who she needs to speak to with more decorum.

She looks up at him with big, excited eyes and realizes just how tired he looks. “Are you sure you want to tonight? You look really tired. Maybe you should take it easy and rest tonight and we can do this tomorrow instead?”

“I can’t wait to learn from you, either.” That was something Cyran had learned since taking on apprentices of his own - imparting his own knowledge was only one small part of teaching. It also meant being a student himself, learning what he could from Cirice. They would both be learning new things tonight. “And I look forward to seeing all you can do.” Cirice was already talented, constantly learning and growing. She had limitless potential.

Cyran only hoped he could help her learn some temperance and control to accompany all that power.

She kept her voice low as she asked about the visiting lord Elthinel. Cyran wasn’t surprised she was curious. Keeping his voice low, though his tone casual, Cyran responded, “A politician in Moonglade. Quite the pompous man. Normally he wouldn’t even deign to spend time around us commoners in a place like this, but… rumor has it that he’s got quite the fondness for ladies of the night.” He whispered, as if sharing a bit of gossip. “It sounds like we have an impending scandal on our hands, if you ask me.”

He fell quiet, then, before speaking once more.

“Most nobles around here are involved in one or another.”

Sharks in the water, all of them. Scorned by the fallout of the elven wars, always pushing to expand their limits and their trade, always hungry for a scrap of power and influence. The thought of the politics of this place, a city he thought he’d left behind, brought a sour taste to his mouth. He sipped at his drink in an attempt to wash it away - still, it lingered.

He shook his head, brushing away Cirice’s concern. “I’m quite alright, I assure you. I have been looking forward to this for some time.” He flashed her a small smile. “Not to mention, I’m rather impatient to get out of this place.” Too many bad memories here that lingered in familiar streets and old haunts. He kept worrying that if he looked over his shoulder, he would see his father there, or Rowan - the latter, he remembered with a small form of bitterness, was always lingering there, anyways. It was an entirely real possibility.

He stood, setting down his now-empty cup.

“And there is no better time to practice shadow magic than the dark of the night, wouldn’t you say?”

Cirice nods along thoughtfully while Cyran explains what the politicians are like here. Its strange and unfamiliar, but something she needs to learn if she plans to keep amassing fame and power.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Cirice agrees, setting her empty mug down. “Let’s go ahead then!”

Hopping to her feet she pulls Cyran along with her out into the night air of Eclipse City. Like most cities the sky is full of light pollution that makes the stars hard to see, but the crescent moon hangs over their heads like a smile. Or a sneer.

She chatters happily about the few things she’d done in their brief time apart, sinking ships, infiltrating a necromancer lair, breaking up underground forgery rings, the usual. She notices that he’s on edge, looking around nervously and watching the shadows as if they might be concealing danger. She steers them out of the city and to her wagon so they can find a place that is safer to try new magic in.

She takes them to the edge of the nearest forest, pulling her wagon up alongside it. She jumps happily out of the wagon and stretches.

“Where should we start? Should I show you my new skills first before you start teaching me?”

“Yes, let’s not dally.” He was getting antsy lingering in the city so long, anyways. He allowed Cirice to pull him along, through bustling streets lit with lanterns that served a poor imitation of stars. Moonlight reflected off of still pools while the pair traipsed through gardens and over curved bridges that connected land where canals cut through. Cyran listened along to her stories, trying not to grow too alarmed when she described some of the stories. He drew the line, though, when he described nearly getting arrested in Sol City.

“That pompous fellow… what did you say their name was? Morrigan?” Even the name itself sounded rather flashy and overbearing. “They don’t sound like the best influence. Be wary around them.” He warned, rather put out that someone had put Cirice in danger like that. They were lucky they’d had the idea for her to conceal her face during the whole ruse, or else they might regret the day they met Cyran in person.

He still kept his eye on the shadows, though - Cyran could not bring himself to relax until they were just at the edge of the city, in the nearest forest. Cyran checked the perimeter to make sure they were well and truly alone while Cirice summoned her wagon. Once they were both ready, Cyran pondered her question.

“Let’s see what you’ve learnt, first. That’ll give me a good idea of where to start with your lessons.” He gave her a reassuring thumbs up. “I’ll be here to step in if anything goes wrong. So don’t worry about letting loose.”

“Okay, then where to start… Hmmm…” Cirice ponders aloud, “OH!”

She takes a few steps back from him and makes a duplicate of herself¹. Then that Cirice makes a duplicate of herself and the three all come and hug Cyran tight.

“What do you think?” The chorus of Cirice asks, giggling. “I can do a little more too!”

One of the Cirices, the original, steps back and holds out her hand to one of her duplicates². The duplicate giggles and is lifted into the air with ease before being gently set back down.

“I can move things with my mind! Nothing really big but some stuff!” She stands proudly, awaiting praise.

"Oh and one more thing." Her expression changes to a little more devious as she puts her hands in front of her chest, fingers steepled in prayer. "Come now I call to thee, back from the edge of eternity. Death's grasp loosen slight and appear to me by Mother's might."

The runes on her arms and face all begin to glow and a chill settles in the air as a form begins to slowly take shape in the air before her³. Its amorphous at first, but slowly becomes more humanoid, gaining more and more features. Features Cyran knows all too well.

It only takes a few moments for the ghost of Rowan to fully manifest.

---

1 Replicant
2 Telekenesis
3 Call ghost

“Oof-!” Cyran could barely keep his balance as all three Cirices tackled him, pulling him into a tight hug. Each one of them felt solid in his arms, and all three looked identical to one another - he beamed at the replicants, giving each one a kiss on the forehead. “Very impressive! Your hugging prowess is now unparalleled… I don’t think I can keep up with it!”

Cirice detached herself before the original lifted one of the replicas into the air with a lot more precision and focus than she’d had when she accidentally started lifting things in her wagon. Cyran clapped, impressed at the display. “Refined technique trumps raw strength any day. In the right hands, even the smallest dagger can fell a giant. I’m impressed with your control, dear.” He praised.

Evidently, that wasn’t the end of her display. Cyran watched with rapt attention as the young woman pressed her hands together, muttering a quick prayer under her breath. The air seemed to grow colder around them, forcing a shiver through Cyran’s body. What was she doing? Dread began to settle in his heart, and he raised his hands, going through the motions of preparing a counterspell, when the woman of his nightmares manifested in front of him.

Cyran’s hands stilled.

“Cirice…?” His voice died in his throat as he took a step back. “Why are you…”

Rowan opened her eyes, unable to resist the sudden force that had jerked her back into the world of the living. The ghostly woman glowered, ready to spew vitriol at whoever was foolish enough to pull her away from her slumber, only to pause when she saw the familiar elven woman in front of her.

Little Cirice.

And, much to her surprise, Cyran stood a little ways away from Rowan, dawning horror growing on his face.

Oh, now wouldn’t this be some fun? A smile stretched across her face as she hovered closer to Cirice. Her hair and gown floated lazily around her, as if she were suspended underwater.

“Now what do we have here?” She drawled, staring down at Cirice. An unexpected meeting, but a pleasant one nonetheless. “Hello, Cirice. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. I’ve been watching you for some time.”

At the sound of Cirice’s name leaving Rowan’s lips, Cyran stepped forward, putting himself between his goddaughter and the ghost. There was a part of him that was still afraid, but not for himself. Rowan could not harm him - not any more than she already had. But he wouldn’t let her get to Cirice.

“Leave, Rowan. You’re not welcome here.”

“And disrupt this happy family reunion?” Rowan tutted. “I would never pass up the chance to meet my goddaughter, after all.”

“Don’t you dare call her that. You don’t get the right-“

“I was speaking with Cirice.” Rowan snapped, and Cyran shut his mouth on instinct. “She’s the one that summoned me here, no? We may as well see what she wants.”

Before Cyran could recover, Rowan drifted past him and stood in front of the young priestess.

“So what can I help you with?” She purred. “There must be some reason you brought me here.”

Cirice smiles warmly and puts a hand on Cyran’s shoulder to comfort him before turning to Rowan and stepping forward.

“It is nice to officially meet you, Rowan, ma’am.” She gives her a small curtsey, “I am Cirice Lunestra, Tsukinaga Shizuki, Cyran’s goddaughter and his apprentice of sorts. I gather from your words that you were Cyran’s wife at some point? What happened?”

Her head tilts to the side, her eyes full of curiosity as she regards the ghost.

Rowan responds to Cirice’s curtsy with one of her own, posture rigid and effortlessly elegant. “Such refined manners. Rowan Pavyre, of clan Pavyre of Eclipse City. And, yes… at one point, wife of Cyran Fenastra, heir of the Fenastra clan.”

Behind her, Cyran makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

“I take it he hasn’t told you about me.” Rowan doesn’t look offended in the slightest. “As for what happened to me… I freed myself. Or so I thought.” She lets out a cruel, haughty laugh. “When they said ‘until death do you part’ I hoped that at the very least my death would be the end of this. As you can see, it didn’t quite work as intended.”

“I assume you mean you thought you’d freed yourself from your marriage but you’re tied to Cyran in the afterlife, hmmm… Maybe I could help you.”

She can feel the tension building in Cyran without having to look his way but she continues, undeterred.

“Cyran doesn’t like you and seems to think you’re dangerous, even as a ghost. You must have really been cool when you were alive. I’ll have to look you up later.” She giggles, her smile becoming a little melancholy, “But... If you really are dangerous to Cyran I can’t have that.”

The shadows around her shift and grow longer, reaching out towards Rowan in a flash and wrapping her ephemeral wrists tight so she cannot move¹. The whites of Cirice’s eyes turn to a pitch black night speckled with stars, her lavender pupils burning with power as she meets Rowan’s gaze with an even look. She reaches out and takes Rowan’s cheek gently in hand, not passing through as one would expect, claws resting on the ghostly skin. A chain of thick violet light appears on her wrist, snaking its way down to shackle itself around Rowan’s neck².

“Rowan Pavyre, of Eclipse City, deceased wife of my beloved godfather,” Her soft voice is threaded with power and meaning³, “If Cyran comes to harm by your hand, by my word and the authority of Mother Moon, I will rip what is left of your soul into pieces.”

She smiles again. 

---

1 Halt Undead
2 Soul Shackle (this is mainly symbolic to show that she won't let Rowan escape, even in death)
3 Fiend: Profane Command with a little Invoke Fear sprinkled in

With every honeyed word that poured out of Rowan’s mouth, Cyran felt his heart sink further down into his chest. Her talk of their union, her mention of a name he no longer had any claim to… she laid all of it bare in front of Cirice, all of Cyran’s shame. Things he’d wanted to tell her, perhaps, on his own terms, but no longer had the choice to. If Cirice was shocked to learn that Rowan had once been his wife, it didn’t show on her face. Not that Cyran was looking. He was too ashamed to even bring himself to speak, too rattled by Rowan’s appearance to step in and intervene.

His cowardice was all too apparent as Cirice stepped forward, as kindly as ever as she informed Rowan that, under no certain circumstances, if the ghost hurt Cyran, there would be dire consequences.

Rowan scoffed. The little attempt at intimidation was cute, but she had nothing to worry about, truly. One didn’t send their prized cattle to the slaughter, did they?

But then, the darkness seemed to grow and morph around Cirice, darting towards Rowan - binding her in place. The young woman’s eyes seemed to flicker before filling with an inky-black void, not unlike Cyran’s own right eye. But there was something dreadful in that gaze, an otherworldly presence distinct from Cyran’s own. Rowan could not bring herself to move as the young cleric took a step closer to Rowan. She no longer needed to breathe, but if she did, the oxygen would have been stolen from her lungs at the sight.

Rowan Pavyre was not a woman who feared much. She’d already encountered the worst, faced the executioner’s knife in the form of her own hubris. But she was not quite done with this world - not yet. And yet… this tiny little whelp, who’d only been alive decades in comparison to her centuries, she was the first person that posed a threat to Rowan’s existence.

What a cruel joke.

As the chain wrapped around her neck, binding her to this promise, Rowan choked out an incredulous laugh. It was a sound that held no real humor in it.

“Oh, your love for your godfather is admirable. But your energy is wasted. I have no intention of harming your precious Cyran.” She glanced over at the older elven man, still frozen stiff. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but his affinity for the shadows is higher than anything I’d ever seen, before now.”

That last part was spoken with a pointed look at Cirice. Though there was something different about the darkness that clung to her. Cirice’s was otherworldly, something that had seeped into her from another source and made its home in her soul. Cyran’s darkness had always been there, inside of him. She’d merely… drawn it out.

And now that darkness was going to be the key to her achieving her goals.

“Your problem, little moon, is that you see the world in shades of black and white. I don’t need to harm Cyran to get what I want. In fact, I’ve been protecting him this entire time, have I not? My plans require him to be alive.” Alive, and powerful. “If you’re worried about someone hurting him, perhaps you shouldn’t be searching for a scapegoat.”

She told Cirice once before that Cirice would break Cyran’s heart.

And watching this little demon in front of her, eyes as pitch as the night around them, Rowan’s suspicions were only confirmed.

“Enough.”

When Cyran finally mustered the courage to speak again, his expression was hardened, covered over in a layer of ice. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was not Cyran speaking, but the Specter. He stepped forward, raising his hand in warning, fingers held taught and sharp like the point of a knife, aimed straight at Rowan. The ring around his neck seemed to spark as the air around him grew colder, as cold as iron forged under ice-water.^[1]

He did not move, merely stood there in warning.

“Rowan, I think you’ve made your point quite clear. I’ve tolerated your presence before now, only because there was no way for me to get rid of you. Test my patience, though, and I won’t hesitate to allow Cirice to destroy you.”

Rowan’s smug expression flickered.

Not scared of Cyran’s threats, but of the promise of Cirice’s reckoning.

“… Very well. I’ll play nice, for now.” She turned her attention to Cirice. “After all, I like you, dear. I see myself in you.”

---

1. Del's Eternity Ring - Delaela's Cold Iron Touch (used in warning)

Rowan’s jab hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Cirice didn’t spare it another thought. The power she wielded was a gift from Mother Moon, one that she uses to do as she believes is right, some ghost bitch isn’t gonna make her feel ashamed or afraid of that. Even if that bitch was Cyran’s former wife. Her smile didn’t so much as waver, her eyes merely narrowing as Rowan brings up her theory that Cirice would hurt Cyran’s heart one day.

As if.

She opens her mouth to speak only to be cut off with Cyran’s ice-cold commandment. He stepped forward, almost between the two, at Cirice’s side. Having him there is comforting.

“Well… Yeah?” Cirice says as if the comparison is obvious, “We’re both moon elves. And you were a priestess of Mother Moon too at some point, right? And Cyran is important to both of us, though I don’t know your reasons.”

The darkness starts to recede back into Cirice slowly and she gives Rowan a more curious look. “I suppose we’ll see each other again, for better or worse. I pray it be on better terms. Goodbye, Rowan Pavyre.”

She gives her a small curtsey and reaches out to thread her arm through Cyran's.

Gods, Rowan did not understand why Cyran so adored children. They were simpletons, and this one was no different. It was a shame to see such power wielded by someone with so little experience and knowledge. She sniffed, turning her nose in the air. Her smile seemed to be strained at the edges. “… Right. Yes. Of course. Yes, I was a high priestess of the moon mother, once upon a time.” Then again, Rowan had a sneaking suspicion that they had not quite worshipped the same goddess. But whatever this brat believed, it wasn’t as if Rowan would be able to shake the foundations of her belief. Not in one conversation, at least.

She recognized the dismissal when she heard one. Rowan curtsied, her skirts fluttering behind her, blown around by an unseen wind. “Perhaps next time you’ll share stories with me how you came to worship the maiden of the night. I’m ever so curious. We could… swap stories. One priestess to another.”

To Cyran, she waved, a devious look on her face. “Give Miss Asiliari my regards.”

Cyran opened his mouth, perhaps to offer a rebuttal - but anything he would’ve said was cut off by Rowan’s disappearance, fading into the shadows once more. Always watching, ever unseen, until Cyran required her aid once more. Only when she was out of sight did Cyran relax, letting out a shuddering breath to compose himself. Only when he felt he could speak without shouting did he turn to look at his beloved goddaughter.

“Cirice, what were you thinking?” He did his damnedest to keep anger out of his voice - truly, he wasn’t mad. How could he get upset at Cirice for being curious about something she didn’t understand the gravity of? All she knew was that Cyran was haunted. It was only natural for her to want to know more. The blame lied with him for not imparting on Cirice why talking to Rowan was an incredibly bad idea.

And now this had happened. His two worlds were colliding in the worst way possible, and it was all Cyran could do to hold himself together in the fallout.

“Cirice… Rowan is dangerous. Not - not as powerful as she was in life, but I’ve seen what she’s capable of with my own two eyes.” He almost sounded desperate now. “I know you’re trying to help me. Truly, I do. But meeting her is the last thing I ever wanted for you. I don’t -“

His voice cracked with emotion.

“I don’t want her to sink her claws into you, too.”

“I-I just wanted to make sure the ghost wasn’t going to hurt you… Before you seemed scared when she showed up so I thought maybe I could put her to rest…” Cirice met his gaze with a worried one of her own, “I learned to summon ghosts and stop them so I could help you if you needed it… I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first. But she can’t get claws in me! Mother Moon protects me! I’m not scared of her. I just want to protect you too…”

She looks down in guilt and shame, she could have just asked him rather than going right to magical means but she’d been afraid he would dance around the subject. She wanted to apologize, to hide, to ask more questions, all at once.

“...You don’t have to tell me about her if you don’t want, I wasn’t trying to pry into your life. I promise. And I wouldn’t believe her words unless you told me it was true. If she’s really dangerous I’m sure she lied a bunch.”

She takes a breath and braces herself for his ire or disappointment.

“Are you mad at me?”

“I-“

Cyran’s shoulder’s slumped.

“I’m not mad at you…”

How could he be? This was his own fault, after all. He’d warned Cirice against interacting with Rowan, not understanding that it would only serve to make the young woman all the more curious. She was an inquisitive soul, and that curiosity made her impulsive. Keeping her in the dark would only drive her further into those darkened spaces in her search for answers.

He moved to sit himself down on the moss-covered remains of a nearby broken log, gesturing for Cirice to take a seat next to him.

“I thought that if I didn’t tell you about Rowan, you’d forget about what you’d seen. That woman…” He fiddled with the ring around his neck. Not one that symbolized his obligations, but rather his love to another… it was a small comfort. “She and I were tied together in an arranged marriage. I’m - I have not always been the same person as I am now. I used to be quite shy, and I couldn’t stand up for myself. I knew that Rowan was doing sick things. Experiments, of sorts.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“She was a necromancer. That much I know. Whatever she was studying, it took hold of her. It possessed her until it ran her body into the ground until she died. But not before she tried to take me with her.”

He reached out, grabbing her hand - to reassure himself that she was still there.

“She’s dead, but not quite gone. I had no idea until you’d seen her hovering behind me… I never wanted you to see that part of my life. My shame. I don’t know what she has planned, but I know that she was telling the truth.” She needed him alive for… something.

He gave her a small, sad smile.

“I don’t know if she could be separated from me at this point, not without damage to myself. My dearest heart, you have no idea how much it means to me that you wish to help… to have your kindness and your help. And you do protect me. You and Iryla have saved me, more than you could ever understand. That’s all I could ever ask for. Just… ask me first, next time.”

He had been blind to miss her trying to reach out to him, to be as much a part of his life as he was in hers. It was… difficult for Cyran to let others in, to allow them to glimpse the inner parts of him he kept under lock and key. But if it was Cirice, he would make a better attempt at reaching back.

To his surprise, the fear of her leaving him when she saw who he really was… it had evaporated.

He trusted her more than he trusted himself.

Cirice listens to Cyran’s words with a serious expression. He said next time, he isn’t going to leave her now that she knows the secrets he hid. Relieved he isn’t mad at her and isn’t leaving, she’s guiltily a little glad she cast the spell. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Cyran, that hadn’t even occurred to her. Last time she’d seen the ghost Cyran had acted as if he didn’t know about her there and he couldn’t hear her… She should have realized he was just pretending to try to protect her. He was like that, willing to hoard the pain to himself rather than letting anyone else get even the slightest bruise.

And she’d hurt him more by bringing up some obviously painful memories.

Holding his hand tight in her own, trying to will him to feel loved and comforted in the small touch but not wanting to interrupt his speech, Cirice looks into his eyes. Once he’s done and it seems he’s said all he needed to get off his chest she pulls him into a tight hug.

“Cyran… I don’t care who you were before or what your past was like if its not important to you. I love the man I know, who has been a mentor and father figure to me and made my life all the better with his presence.” She snuggles her cheek against his chest. “You’re a kind and caring person, I know in my heart you always have been. I’m sorry that people took advantage of that and used you. You’ve done so much to protect me, I want to do the same.”

She looks up at him, meeting his gaze with a worried one of her own. “Whatever Rowan wants with you, we’ll stop her. I promise. We may not be able to get rid of her right away, but we can do something. I’m sure of it! You have NOTHING to be ashamed of. But I promise that I’ll ask before I do anything like this again. I’m really sorry.”

She hugs him again, tighter still, squeezing her eyes shut and just holding him to her. There are few people in the world she loves as much as she loves him, all of them her precious family, and there is nothing she wouldn’t do for them. For him.

Nothing.

“I have not meant to be secretive, truly.” Cyran sighed, rubbing small circles in Cirice’s back. “Nor have I meant to imply that I don’t trust you. I do. You are my heart, Cirice.” She and Iryla had reminded Cyran of what it meant to matter again, even if they didn’t know it. A decade he’d spent, drifting aimlessly with nothing that mattered to him except survival. How long he’d spent, deprived of the things that mattered to him most. “I don’t talk about these things because I don’t want to bring down the mood. I never wanted my past to matter.”

And yet, it haunted him all the same.

“I could never ask you to be the one to protect me. As your godfather, it is my honor to be the one to do as such for you.” He pulled her away, searching her face. His eyes were watery, though he was smiling. “Did you know that it was my dream to be a father? To raise someone and and give them a future I could never have?” To break this never-ending horrible cycle of the Fenastra name, and give them the love and affection they’d deserved was all he’d really wanted in his youth. He’d been able to have a child, but the world had torn him in a different direction, down a different path. To kill when all he wanted to do was nurture.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ears with a gentle touch. “I had a daughter, once. When I was separated from her, I gave up all hope of holding onto that dream again. But you’ve given me that privilege again. More than anything, I’m honored that you wish to call me your mentor and father figure. I don’t know what Rowan’s machinations are, but with you by my side, I really don’t fear her. Or whatever she wants.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Never forget this. No matter what happens, no matter what the future may bring, never. Ever. Doubt my love for you, my heart. You will always be my precious family, to the end of my days.”