I turned to him, careful not to break the mood. “You had a bathhouse?”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “No. A basin behind the old chapel. Rainwater collected there. We’d heat it in summer, but in winter it was freezing. Still, we used it. It was the only quiet place where no one expected you to speak.”
There was a tenderness in his voice, like he was holding something precious in his memory. I leaned back, letting the warmth of the water soothe my limbs, and listened.
“I liked the routines,” Callis continued. “I woke at the same time every day. Copied texts by noon. Sang evening hymns. Swept the altar before the last bell. It made sense. Life was… measured.”
“You miss it.”
“I do.” He glanced at me, then looked away again. “Not because it was easy. Because I knew my place. Here…” His voice trailed off.
“Here, everything shifts,” I finished.
He nodded.
I didn’t answer at first. The bond was a steady heat between us, pulsing against my spine and pressing soft reminders into my throat. I could taste the unspoken words on his lips. I had known this about him. But hearing it aloud—this longing for the world before me—cut deeper than I expected.
I closed my eyes. “I won’t ask you to stay,” I said quietly.
Callis turned to me, brows faintly furrowed. “What?”
“I won’t bind you beyond the cycle. I know what this place is to you—a chapter. A duty fulfilled.” I looked at him now, careful to keep my voice even. “You’ve done more than was ever asked. If you choose to go, you go with my blessing.”
He stared at me, silent. Then, very softly: “But what about the bond?”
“The bond will end with the rite. It was never a chain. Only a path.”
He sat with that. The silence stretched between us, long and strangely soft.
Then he said, “I thought… it would hold forever. That’s what it feels like.”
My throat caught. “It does.”
I wanted to tell him what it meant to me. I wanted to tell him everything. But I didn’t. Not yet.
I stood slowly, water cascading down my limbs, and reached for his hand.
“Come with me,” I said.
He blinked up at me. “Now?”
“Yes. There’s something I want to show you before the cycle ends.”
He took my hand without hesitation and followed me to dry and dress.
The stars hung low that night, close enough it felt they might catch on the rooftops as we walked.
I led him down the long southern stair, through the gate behind the eastern garden wall. It opened onto the first curve of the city—the one few acolytes ever walked after dusk. The path was cobbled and narrow, hemmed in by tall stone walls painted with flaking murals of the Old Cycle. Light spilled from high, shuttered windows, casting gold onto the steps.
Callis kept pace beside me, his hand still in mine. I didn’t look at him yet.
“This is the Upper Quarter. Mostly scholars, retired priests, a few dignitaries. Their work continues even after they leave the temple. Some translate, someteach. Some spend their lives just meditating on a single phrase or prayer.”
He looked up at the buildings as we passed. Lanterns and moonstones flickered and glowed above doorways. We moved quietly between them, like threads in a broader tapestry.
“The Order believes that knowledge should be kept near the source,” I said. “So those who once served in the palace settle here, close enough to visit, far enough to rest.”
Callis smiled faintly. “They chose peace.”
