That evening, back in Aldric's private sanctum, Elara paced restlessly. Her body still buzzed with battle magic; her mind burned with questions.
"I want more than just defense," she said. "I want to fight."
"You already are," Aldric replied. "But you want permanence."
He stepped forward, holding out a small, jet-black orb inscribed with the same glyphs on her ring. "This is a pact-seal. If you claim it, we will no longer be bound by the original moonlit contract."
Her eyes widened. "You mean…?"
"Our bond will not be magical obligation. It will be chosen. Willful. Eternal."
She hesitated. "Why now?"
"Because I no longer want to own your power," he said. "I want to stand beside it."
Her breath caught.
She took the orb—and pressed it to her chest.
The glyph surged in silver light. When it faded, it had changed—no longer an imprint of submission, but of union.
They stood there in silence, hearts thrumming with magic and something more fragile: trust.
The war was still coming. But they would face it not as contract-bound strangers…
…but as chosen partners.