The Arcanis Academy sky had darkened by one gradient from midafternoon.
Elira was the first to feel it—how the white, lazy clouds now wheeled around the courtyard like ghosts of vultures. Wind danced between pillars, carrying whispers too old for children's ears. Her heart pounded with worry.
Kael appeared beside her, his eyes narrowed. "They're here."
A flash of red flashed into her line of vision. From the distant end of the warded courtyard a figure emerged—tall, statuesque, swathed in the deep, rich red of the High Council. His boots did not make a sound, and yet somehow his arrival still the wind. His face was chiseled with sharpness: sharp cheekbones, high forehead, and tight lips set in a permanent frown. But his eyes—cold and unflinching—were the sort that had seen too many truths and buried too many lies.
"Elira Thorne," he declared, voice like cold steel, "and Kael Valen."
Elira instinctively straightened, the link between her and Kael humming with tension.
"I am Councilor Lysandros Vale. Investigator of illegal magical events and Examiner of soul-bound aberrations."
Elira swallowed. Her mouth was dry. A legitimate investigator? Already?
Kael stepped forward, his cloak rustling against Elira's as he instinctively positioned himself to conceal her. "You weren't due for a week."
Lysandros hardly blinked. "The Council believed urgency was necessary. Incredible how a soul-bonded manifestation with an illegal mark and a Void-bearer has the tendency to destroy timelines.
He stood there, his gaze darting between Kael and Elira, then to the gentle sheen of runes that encircled her collarbone—the sign of the bond, still raw and unpracticed.
"There's been no incident," Kael said coldly. "No reason for concern."
"No incident?" Lysandros inclined his head. "The skies rent apart. Magic flowed unchecked. A prophecy was invoked before a crowd of hundreds."
He stepped forward again. "That's not calm, Void Prince."
Elira's hands clenched. "So why did you come? To take me away?"
He looked at her, actually looked—and his expression stumbled for a moment.
"No," he said slowly. "I came to see whether what you two have created is. real."
Kael's voice cut. "It's not a performance.".
"Neither is it acceptable," Lysandros snarled. "Soul-bonding's been against the law since the War of Sundered Blood. You should know that."
"But it wasn't on purpose," Elira cried out. "We didn't invite this."
Perhaps. But that doesn't alter the risk." He pulled out a small orb from his sleeve—a sphere of pale crystal, radiating unnatural blue light. "This is a soul-veritas orb. It will scan the resonance between the two of you. If your bond is natural—true—I will so report. If otherwise."
"If otherwise?" Kael growled.
"I bring her in for further holding."
Elira's heart fell.
Kael stood between her and him once more. "You're not laying a hand on her.".
"Then let the orb," Lysandros said, holding it up. "Let it decide."
Kael's teeth ground together. Elira touched his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let him. If it clears us…"
He faced her, something feral in his eyes. Then he nodded.
Lysandros released the orb into the air. It floated there, spinning slowly. Ribbons of ancient script appeared around it in the air, shining.
Then came the pull.
An instant catch at Elira's chest, as if her soul were being raked through unseen fingers. Her link to Kael reacted in turn, smudging to flame. She gasped as not-her visions flashed into her mind.
A storm-struck boy. A burning tower. A screaming boy yelling her name before she'd ever had it.
Kael's memories.
She wasn't alone—she felt him too, reeling, clutching his head. They'd never shared this kind of connection before. Not like this.
The orb turned dark and black.
Lysandros's eyes opened wide. "No."
The orb exploded.
A burst of wild energy ripped out of it, and the three of them crashed to the floor.
Elira hammered the stone with fury, vision spinning. The air stank of burnt magic. The connection in her chest ballooned like a tidal wave—and then the world went quiet.
When she blinked away the stars from her eyes, she saw it.
Above them, glowing like a second sun, floated a crown of runes. Not merely Void. Not merely Light. But something older. Symbols of a school of magic unknown.
The bond had manifested—really, fully, unequivocally.
Lysandros stood up slowly, his face ashen. "This… this is not merely a soul-bond."
He retreated a step, as if in fear. "This is a Prime Weaving."
Kael sat up beside Elira, blood dripping from a split on his brow. "Explain. Now."
Lysandros stared at the shimmering runes above them. "Prime Weavings are theoretical. Myth, almost. They're said to predate the rise of the Five Kingdoms. Bonds so ancient they were formed in other lifetimes—destinies that refuse to unravel, no matter how many eras pass."
Elira's skin went cold. "You mean… we've been bonded before?"
"No one knows," Lysandros snarled. "But if this is true, then the two of you are at the center of something far greater than what the Council understands."
He looked at Kael, his eyes shadowed. "And they will be afraid of that."
Kael rose to his feet, pulling Elira up. "Then we'll fight."
Lysandros's smile was dry. "They have armies, Valen. And assassins who kill before dawn."
"We'll find allies."
"Then you'd best get started."
He spun, but paused. "I will keep my report back. Two days. No more."
Elira blinked. "Why help us?"
He looked at her, something soft burning in his face. "Because once—many years ago—I loved someone with a bond like yours. And I watched the Council destroy her."
And with that, he disappeared into the night.
The silence that followed was too big for the room they were in.
Kael spoke finally. "He's telling the truth."
Elira nodded. "I know."
She stood up to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Kael, are we really part of something so ancient?"
"I don't know," he replied. "But this bond… it's alive. It's not magic. It's memory. Will. Destiny."
She looked down at her hand. A small flash of light twinkled there, pulsating to the same beat as Kael's own heart.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"So am I."
But then he took her hand. Not out of duty or instinct of attachment. But because he wanted to.
For the first time, Elira saw that this wasn't just about magic. This was about surviving something bigger than the two of them—and standing in front of it together.