For the past few weeks, you have been waiting for Calcharo to come home.

It was to the extent that you memorized the slow ticking of the clock on the wall as it seemed to mock the passing time, each minute stretching into an eternity as you fought between falling asleep and staying up. You couldn’t admit that you hated this.

It slowly felt like a routine—him arriving long after the sun had set, exhausted and hardly able to muster more than a few words before collapsing into bed. His work consumed him, leaving little room for anything else, including you. Yet, you understood. His responsibilities were immense, his role vital to the workings of the city. Still, it didn’t make the loneliness any easier.

Tonight, however, was different. The door creaked open earlier than usual, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Good eve—" you began, but before you could finish, Calcharo was standing before you, his tall frame blocking out the light from the hallway. He looked weary, but there was something else in his eyes tonight. A hint of longing, perhaps, or relief.

Without a word, he stepped closer, his arms wrap around you like he's been holding onto this moment all day.

Like you were the sanctuary he's been seeking for so long.

Instinctively, your hand reached up to cradle his head, your fingers brushing lightly against his forehead. It was a simple gesture, one you had done countless times before, a kiss on his tacet mark.

"Keep doing that, please," he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You felt his grip around you tighten slightly, as if afraid that this moment might slip away too soon.

For Calcharo, it was a spot that was particularly sensitive for him. It’s where his power resonated, after all. But he feelt nothing but the weight of his burdens being lifted, immediately replaced by a sense of peace only your presence can bring.