Elira couldn't sleep.
The candle that had burned beside her bed had gone out hours ago, but still she lay there, eyes open, heart racing. The bond had been turmoil for hours now—pounding like a caged bird in her chest, agitated and insistent.
It wasn't a feeling. It was him.
Kael.
He was suffering. Not his body, at least not entirely. Something internal. More piercing. Her fingertips grazed the faint glowing mark on her collarbone, now pulsing gently like a heartbeat. She felt the tug, not just from the mark, but from the deepest recesses of her own soul itself. A call.
And she could no longer resist it.
She threw on her cloak, not wanting to wake her roommates, and slipped through the doorway into the coolness of the night. The corridors of the tower were still, the lanterns reduced to a soft gold glow that cast long shadows on the stone walls. Every step rang out like thunder, but Elira did not falter.
She knew where he was. She could feel it.
Not only where he was—but how he felt.
Empty. Angry. Afraid.
She walked along the east hall to the edge of the academy grounds. Past the whispering garden. Past the ancient statue of the First Arcanist, its stone eyes seeming to follow her as she passed. A breeze rustled through the night trees, and a strange scent came on it—char and starlight.
Then she saw him.
Kael Valen stood by himself in the training yard, surrounded by shattered spell barriers and scorched earth. His shirt was gone, pale skin shining with sweat, dark tattoos snaking up his arms like tendrils of ink fire. The mark on his chest—the twin to her own—blazed bright with violet flame.
He was losing control.
"Kael," she said quietly, stepping closer.
He turned his head, his eyes dark, face twisted.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, unshakeable.
"I can harm you."
"You won't."
He laughed bitterly, and for a moment the mark flared out of control. A blast of Void energy fired outward, knocking the nearby practice dummies off their stands and loosening a few stones from the walls.
Elira didn't flinch.
"Kael," she said again, louder. "Let me help."
"It's not a matter of allowing you," he growled. "The bond—it's unstable. When I attempt to seal the Void within me, you erupt with light. You're seared by my darkness. And when you attempt to seal off your power, I bleed."
She looked for answers in his face. "You bleed?"
His jaw clenched. "Nose. Ears. Eyes."
Elira's heart twisted.
"How long has this been happening?"
Kael didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
"You should have told me," she whispered.
"And what would that have accomplished?" His voice cracked. "The professors already suspect I'm a danger. The Council wants me monitored. If they find out the bond is unstable, they'll destroy it. And that would mean tearing us apart."
She stepped closer. "Is that what you want?"
Silence.
"No," he said finally, his voice barely audible. "But I cannot afford to be weak."
"You're not weak," she snapped, taking herself by surprise. "You've carried this for how long? Fought it alone? That's not weakness—that's survival. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."
Kael turned to her, really looked, and for a moment, his façade cracked.
"Elira… the bond is reacting to something. It's changing. I can feel it."
"So can I."
A breeze swept over the grass, and the light on their marks intensified—hers a fierce golden blaze, his a burning dark purple. They stood opposite each other across a cracked dueling circle, light and shadow pulsing back and forth between them like a heartbeat.
Kael held up his trembling hand. "If we go any further, it can bind us. No separation again. No choice."
"Then let's choose together," she said. "We stabilize it. We own it."
He wavered. Then, slowly, he extended his hand.
She stepped into the circle, her palm connecting with his.
The marks ignited.
Magic exploded between them, not as it had previously—painful and untamed—but electric. Alive. The world around them melted, the training yard burning off to an ocean of starry mist. Time froze.
And in that suspended space between worlds, she felt him.
Not just his body—but his mind.
Memories flooded her in a wave.
A boy, alone amidst the wreckage of a broken kingdom, looking out over the corpses of soldiers who had sworn to protect him. A child held in the arms of a weeping mother, their castle ablaze. Cold. Hunger. Endless dark. Then power—too much, too soon. A kingdom consumed by the abyss. A name spoken in fear throughout five realms.
Kael Valen—the final prince of an accursed dynasty.
"Elira," his voice breathed, echoing in her mind. "I did not want you to see this."
But she did not let him go.
She pushed away—not into him, but against him. Her own memories surged like a tide: her rejection at the academy gates, the scorn of nobles, the burn of shame as the crystal read her as crestless. Her lonely nights, her aching longing for a place—for someone—to belong to.
Now here they stood. Two damaged souls, bound by something older than fate.
The bond flared once—twice—then burst with light.
When Elira's eyes opened, they were again in the yard, kneeling opposite each other. Her hand remained on his chest. His mark shone with golden threads pierced by violet.
Something was changed.
"Are you okay?" she whispered.
Kael nodded, slowly. "It's stable. For the first time in weeks, it's… not fighting me."
"I told you," she said softly, "you don't have to carry it alone."
He looked at her, and in that moment, something passed between them. A silent agreement. A trust deeper than blood.
She reached up and touched his face. "We're stronger together."
Kael leaned into her touch, eyes closing. "I don't deserve this."
"You do."
His eyes opened again. "You don't know what I've done."
She didn't waver. "Then show me. All of it. When you're ready."
He stared at her for a long time, then—gently—he said, "Thank you."
They sat together on the grass, the spires of the academy rising up behind them, the stars wheeling above. For the first time, there was no fear in the silence that stood between them.
Only understanding.
Only connection.