The biting wind whipped around Aurelia, tugging at the edges of her cloak. It was a dark night, not a single star piercing the oppressive gloom above.

Cutting gusts raged over them, a relentless herald of the storm they awaited. Beside her, she could feel the quiet anticipation of her four colleagues, their forms barely visible in the inky blackness.

This was it. The operation that Viktor had warned them about, the one that would change everything. Aurelia gripped the hilt of her dagger, the cold metal a familiar comfort against her calloused palm. "But... what if you are not able to love?" The words, her coded symbol, echoed in the stormy air, a silent question aimed at the man beside her.

Viktor understood. He always did. She saw, almost tangibly, how he swallowed the sadness, a familiar ache she knew too well. He placed a forgiving hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Believe me, you will know and you will love..." His voice was rough, weathered by countless battles. Then, a touch of bitterness crept in. "There is this man whom even you can love."