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Chapter Twenty-Six

C allie

Rainbow water spirals down the drain as I scrub paint from my skin. Blue and green swirl together like bruises healing in reverse. Something’s shifted between us during today’s creative chaos—something that makes my chest feel too small for my lungs.

Voices drift through the cottage—Aries is talking to someone. The Committee? Though they just left, I recognize their distinctive multilayered tones. Drying my face quickly, I step into the main room.

Aries stands with unusual stillness, his expression carefully neutral despite the traces of copper paint still adorning his forehead. Something in his posture sends warning signals racing along my spine—the coiled tension I recognize from his fighting days, when he sensed danger approaching.

The entire Redemption Committee is present—three figures in flowing robes of blue, red, and yellow, their combined presence making clear this is no routine check-in.

“Callista,” the Committee members acknowledge in unison, their robed figures reflecting the evening light. “We were just explaining to Aries that your progress has exceeded expectations.”

“That sounds… positive?” I move closer to Aries, instinctively seeking the comfort of his presence while maintaining the prescribed distance.

“Indeed.” Their faceted eyes shift colors. “In recognition of your exceptional progress, the Committee has decided to offer Aries immediate redemption and guaranteed life.”

Joy crashes through me, so sudden and overwhelming that my knees nearly give out.

They barely pause before they continue: “But he must remain on Sanctorii permanently as a temple guardian.”

The unspoken implication hangs heavy in the air. “And me?”

“You would be free to return to your ship. To your previous life.”

The words hit like physical blows.

Never see each other again.

“The remaining trials become increasingly dangerous,” the red member explains, their voice holding something almost like compassion. “Couples who reach the final phase face mortality rates of sixty percent.”

My mind races. Sixty-four more days of perfect compliance through increasingly deadly trials. One mistake, one moment of weakness, and Aries dies.

Against guaranteed life, though separated forever.

“We understand this is a big decision,” the blue-robed member says. “You may have until tomorrow’s sunrise to provide your answer.”

“Consider carefully,” the yellow-robed member cautions as they begin to fade. “The trials ahead test more than connection—they test survival itself.”

After they vanish, silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we stand to lose .

“They’re offering you life,” I say finally, though the words scrape my throat.

“At what cost?” His voice holds raw pain, the depths of which I’ve never heard before. “Never seeing you again? After what’s grown between us?”

A knot coils behind my ribs as I watch conflict war across his features. “Better alive and separated than dead because we were selfish.”

“Is that what you want me to choose?”

“What I want,” I say, “is for you to live . That’s why I volunteered for these trials in the first place.”

“But?”

“But I never expected to find this.” My voice catches. “Us. Whatever we’re becoming together.”

His gaze holds mine, something desperate flickering in their depths. For a moment, it seems he might say more, but instead he turns toward the window.

“Guaranteed life apart or the risk of death if we want to stay together,” he murmurs. “And we have until sunrise to decide.”

Some risks might be worth taking. Some connections might be worth fighting for.

Or maybe love means knowing when to let go.