Years ago, before the Heart of Sorrows ever knew their names…

  The morning light spilled through the tall gss windows of the Acolytes’ sanctum, casting soft ribbons of gold across the chamber floor. The scent of old parchment, vender oil, and incense clung to the air like an affectionate ghost.

  Zeek leaned against a carved marble column, arms crossed, a crooked grin teasing his lips as he watched Lilliana across the room. She stood surrounded by scrolls, her white robes fluttering lightly as she moved, oblivious to the way the light caught in her crimson curls. She was always in motion—studying, practicing, asking questions no one else thought to ask. She was the kind of brilliant that demanded the world keep up, even if it couldn’t.

  “Still pretending to be holy?” Zeek called, his voice bouncing pyfully off the columns. His eyes strayed toward the ring he’d pced on her finger, shining brilliantly.

  Lilliana didn’t look up. “Still pretending to be clever?” she replied, the flick of her quill not slowing for a moment.

  “Ouch.” He stepped forward, arms falling to his sides as he approached. “You wound me.”

  She gnced up now, one eyebrow raised. “You want something.”

  “I want you to take a break.”

  Lilliana tilted her head, amused. “Is that what passes for a romantic gesture these days?”

  “No,” Zeek said, offering a small satchel. “This does.”

  She narrowed her eyes but took it, opening the leather folds to find a still-warm sweet roll tucked inside. Her expression softened, just for a moment.

  “This is from the Guild District,” she said. “You hate that pce.”

  “Which makes me incredibly thoughtful. Or hopelessly in love.”

  “You’re definitely one of those,” she replied, taking a bite.

  They sat in silence for a moment on the stone bench beneath a growing vine of morning lilies, the garden outside rustling gently with the wind. Zeek watched her without saying anything. The way her mouth curled when she read something interesting. The way she chewed like she was always thinking about something else.

  “I got a contract,” he said suddenly.

  Lilliana looked over. “Dangerous?”

  He shrugged. “They always are.”

  “We’ll be coming back?”

  Zeek didn’t answer right away. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small ring—silver, old, faintly humming with energy. He held it out to her.

  “You’re giving me a relic?” she asked, surprised. “This is from our first delve.”

  Zeek nodded. “Just… keep it safe. If something happens, it’ll help you find me.”

  “Zeek…”

  “I’m not pnning on dying. But you know how can get down there.”

  Lilliana held the ring carefully in her hand, studying it. Then, with the kind of stillness that only meant everything, she looked up.

  “I believe in you,” she said softly.

  Zeek leaned in and kissed her—gently, like he was scared to ruin the moment. The sanctum faded around them, and for that one fragile breath of time, nothing else mattered.