Serida’s lips twist into something too cold to be a smile. “Very well. We will not stop you. But know this: if the bond fractures, so does your future. And if the girl breaks you, we will not gather the pieces.”
I incline my head, not in deference, but in finality.
Later,I walk alone through the citadel, past halls lined with relics of the old Vrakken empire—broken swords, sealed runes, masks worn by the First Blooded.
I should feel calm. Resolute. But the weight in my chest tightens with every step. I think of her. Amelia Crow is proud, fierce, and reckless. I shouldn't admire her. But I do.
She stared me down like no one has in years. No fear, no hesitation. And something in her, something ancient, spoke to the part of me I’ve buried under steel and duty.
The bond will not just bind our magic. It will tangle thought, emotion, and instinct. I hate that. I hate that she might feel what I am feeling, but at least she can’t lie to me that way, because I will feel her too.
I look down at my palm. The shimmer beneath the skin is stronger now. Not pain, not even power, but anticipation.
If she agrees... everything changes.
My future will not belong to Velcryn alone. It will belong to us…
Garrick finds me before midnight, silent as always. He holds out a scroll, sealed in Nytherian violet wax. I break it open without ceremony.
Only one line is written, firm and direct in her hand:
I have one last offer. I will bind my magic to yours in an ancient ritual I know, but I am not doing a mating bond. We do this before dawn.
No flourishes. No hesitation. My heart gives a slow, heavy thud. I let the scroll roll closed and rest it against my chest for a moment.
So she has made her decision. I try not to smile, happy that I get what I want… It is only natural that she agrees to everything. Not that I expect anything else. Even better than tying myself to her through a mating bond. Magic bond works perfectly well too. She is desperate, and I have what she wants. It was only natural that she agreed to everything.
The Purna girl who walked into my city with fire in her eyes has decided to risk her life for her people, for the Wildspont, and now... for a bond with me.
I hand the scroll back to Garrick. “Prepare the ritual chamber. Tell her I accept. She’ll be here before first light.”
He says nothing, but I see it in his eyes the worry and pity. But I feel nothing except a strange, still pull inside me.
She’s coming, and there’s no turning back.
She returns just past dusk.The guards announce her arrival with stiff, uncertain bows. When she enters the ritual hall, her cloak drips with rain, and her eyes burn like embers.
"I won’t beg," she says.
"I never asked you to."
We stand in silence. The runes on the floor glow softly, responding to our presence. I can feel the bond magic stirring between us like a tide turning. She has a strong magic. It recognizes her. Hungers for her. The ritual is old, older than either of our people, and it does not care for politics or consent. Only alignment.
The floor beneath our feet is etched with sigils so old they predate written history, circles within circles, each one a promise and a warning. I recognize some of them from the texts. Others were never meant to be read aloud. They were carved by hands that believed survival justified any cost.
This ritual was not designed for love. It was forged for endurance. For war. For binding bloodlines together when extinction loomed, and choice became a luxury. The magic bond does not ask why we kneel here. It only measures what we are willing to give.
I feel it now, prowling just beneath my skin. The magic tastes my intent and finds it wanting, not weak, but conflicted. That alone is dangerous.
“This circle will amplify everything,” I tell her, voice rougher than I intend. “Strength. Fear. Doubt.”
Her jaw tightens. “And if one of us breaks?”
I don’t lie to her. “Then the magic bond will decide whether the other is worth saving.”
The runes respond to that truth, flaring hookup-blue, then darkening to something closer to black. The air thickens, heavy as breath before a scream.
I have fought monsters. I have faced death without flinching. But this…this is different. This is surrender disguised as power.