Aldric heard the messenger arrive at the forge just after midnight. He was crossing the square when the boy ran past, breathless and urgent, and disappeared through the gate. Aldric stopped. He knew that kind of urgency. Someone needed something made, and they needed it fast enough to wake a smith in the dark. He waited. The boy came back out carrying a wrapped bundle, and then Luneria stepped into view. She held a sword in both hands, tilting it to catch the moonlight. Even from across the square, Aldric saw the crack running through the blade like lightning frozen in steel. The markings on the handle glowed faint blue. She said something to the messenger, and he ran off again. She turned the sword once more, testing the weight, then looked up. Her eyes found Aldric standing in the square. She did not wave him over. She did not turn away. His chest skipped, then caught. He crossed the distance between them because she was still looking, and when he reached the gate she said, "I have to reforge this before dawn. It belonged to someone important." She paused. "I need someone watching my back while I work." He heard what she did not say. The commission was dangerous. The blade was old magic. Someone might come for it. Aldric looked at her face in the forge-light and said, "I'll stay." She led him through the gate to the ancient stone forge where she took her largest commissions. Vines tangled through the pillars, and the central fire already burned high, orange bleeding into blue at the core. Luneria set the cracked blade on her workbench and began laying out her tools. The tongs rattled when she set them down. Aldric stationed himself at the entrance where he could see both approaches and still watch her work. This was not the moment he had planned. He had not fixed anything first. He had not rehearsed. But she had asked him to stay, and he was here, and that changed everything. When she struck the first blow against the damaged steel, sparks flew up like stars, and Aldric knew he would guard her through every hour until dawn. He took his position in the stone guard shack near the forge entrance, settling onto the bench where he could watch both the road and Luneria's silhouette against the flames. The rhythm of her hammer became the only sound in the night, steady and sure. Each strike sent light dancing across the pillars. Aldric's hand rested on his sword hilt, ready, but his eyes kept returning to her. She worked like she fought — focused, precise, unafraid. Hours passed. The blade began to heal under her hands, the crack slowly closing as she folded the metal again and again. Just before dawn, she quenched the sword in oil, and steam rose between them like a curtain lifting. She turned to him, soot on her face, the reforged blade gleaming whole in her grip. "You stayed," she said. It was not a question. Aldric stood and walked toward her, his heartbeat one beat off, then catching. This time, he did not look away.