10-Feet-Apart

Cassian and Reynolds strode down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of their boots echoing against the stone walls. The tension in the air was palpable, though Cassian's expression betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil. Reynolds's voice broke the silence as he explained the measures being taken with the suspicious letter.

"Chase is examining it for traces of magic, Commander. The parchment itself seems ordinary, but the phrasing… it's almost too deliberate. He suspects it might be laced with a subtle enchantment."

Cassian gave a curt nod. "Good. Ensure he's thorough. If there's even a trace of magic, I want to know about it."

Despite his focus on the conversation, Cassian's mind wandered to his earlier argument with Lucian. The phantom's audacity, his defiance, and the biting remarks still gnawed at Cassian. It wasn't just anger he felt—it was something deeper, a mix of frustration and an unshakable unease.

"Commander?" Reynolds's voice drew him back to the present. "Should we…"

Cassian didn't hear the rest of the question. A distant, piercing scream sliced through the air, freezing him in place. It wasn't just any scream—it was Lucian's scream.

His blood ran cold. "Lucian?" he muttered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.

Reynolds's brow furrowed in confusion. "Commander? Are you all right? You've been…"

Cassian's hand shot up, cutting Reynolds off. The screaming continued, a haunting sound that only Cassian could hear. His chest tightened as he turned abruptly. "I need to check something," he said sharply. "Do not follow me. That's an order."

Reynolds hesitated, concern etched on his face. "But, Commander…"

"Under no circumstances does anyone follow me. Go ahead and wait for me." Cassian's tone brooked no argument.

Though clearly uneasy, Reynolds bowed his head. "Yes, Commander." He turned and walked away, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor.

Cassian didn't waste another second. He sprinted back to where he had left Lucian, his heart pounding. The screams grew louder, each one stabbing at his resolve. When he finally reached the room, the sight before him made his stomach churn.

Lucian's translucent form was writhing in agony, arcs of electric energy crackling around him. His figure flickered wildly, as though on the verge of disintegration. The ghost's screams were raw, unrelenting, filled with a pain Cassian had never thought possible for a spirit.

"Faelith," Cassian breathed, stepping closer. "Lucian, what the fuck is happening? Is this another outburst?"

Lucian shook his head violently, his voice strained. "No… it… I…"

Cassian moved closer, ignoring the instinct to shield himself from the energy sparking off Lucian. As he neared, the electricity abruptly ceased. Lucian's screams died down, replaced by ragged, gasping breaths. Though a ghost, he seemed shaken, his translucent chest heaving as if struggling for air.

"What the fuck happened?" Cassian demanded, his tone sharp. "I was gone for a split fucking minute."

Lucian didn't respond immediately. His wide eyes stared blankly at the ground, his expression one of dawning realization. Finally, he whispered, "The limit."

Cassian's brow furrowed. "The limit? Speak more clearly, Faelith."

Lucian lifted his gaze to meet Cassian's, his voice trembling. "In the book… there was a limitation mentioned. The limitation on how long and how far the body and soul can be apart from each other. You're the body. I'm the soul. I thought it just meant we'd be stuck together. I didn't think there would be… repercussions."

Cassian's eyes widened. "You mean to tell me we can't be apart for long?"

Lucian gave a weak nod. "By my calculation, we can't be more than ten feet apart, and no more than a few minutes separated."

Cassian ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 'So I can't ever get away from him until the spell is reversed?'

"This is fucked up."

Lucian let out a bitter laugh, his voice tinged with pain and irony. "This spell was designed to bind the ghost to the human. But the consequences only hurt the one who cast it."

Cassian's gaze darkened. "What are you saying?"

Lucian's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "It's like this spell was made for unrequited love. How fitting. I've already suffered from Adrian's abandonment, and if I'd used this spell on him, it would've been the same. Emotional pain, and now… physical."

Cassian stared at Lucian, jaw tight as he processed the ghost's words. Their earlier fight simmered in the back of his mind, unresolved and festering, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

Lucian's voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and bitter. "We have to reverse this spell as soon as possible. I don't think I can last another moment stuck to you."

Cassian let out a low scoff, his lips curling into a sardonic smirk. "At least we finally agree on something." He straightened, gesturing for Lucian to follow. "Keep up, but stay quiet. I've been tolerating you despite the fact that you're a Wasteling, so don't test my patience. Right now, our priority is finding whoever took your corpse."

"Yeah, okay," Lucian muttered under his breath, his voice subdued. His translucent form flickered faintly as he floated after Cassian, his expression distant and blank.

For some reason, that look didn't sit right with Cassian.

He wasn't angry anymore—or at least, he told himself he wasn't. But he knew he should be. Too much had happened in too little time, and his frustration churned in his chest, looking for an outlet.

When those Wastelings had bumped into him earlier, it had been the final straw. He'd snapped, his rage spilling over. And then Lucian—of all people—had the audacity to lecture him. A ghost. A Wasteling. The very source of his current troubles, acting as though he held some kind of moral high ground.

'I'm justified,' Cassian thought, jaw clenching. He wasn't the only one who despised Wastelings. Lucian had thrown his life away for a man who wanted to use him as a tool.

But if he was so justified, why didn't it feel right?

Cassian stole a glance at the ghost hovering beside him. Lucian's form was steady now, no longer flickering, but his earlier screams echoed in Cassian's mind. He forced himself to look away, scowling.

They walked in silence, broken only by the occasional greetings from knights passing by. Cassian returned their salutes with curt nods, his pace unrelenting as they made their way to the training grounds.

When they arrived, Cassian spotted Reynolds and Chase huddled together, a piece of parchment clutched between them. Reynolds noticed him first, raising an arm in greeting.

"Commander! Over here!"

Cassian nodded and quickened his pace. As he approached, he cast a final glance at Lucian, half-expecting some snide comment. But the ghost remained silent, his expression unreadable.

'Good,' Cassian thought. 'I don't need more distractions.'

Reynolds straightened as Cassian approached, while Chase saluted sharply. "C-Commander! Good morning!"

"At ease," Cassian said, waving a hand. "Tell me about the tip."

Chase lowered his hand, clearing his throat nervously. "Yes, sir. I was showing the new recruits around the training grounds when a white owl flew overhead. It dropped this note," he gestured to the parchment, "but before I could get a good look at the owl, it vanished."

Cassian frowned. "That's... suspicious."

"I thought so too, sir. I sent the rookies back inside and inspected the letter for magical traps or enchantments." Chase placed the parchment on his palm, murmuring an incantation. The paper glowed faintly, hovering slightly above his hand.

Despite being a knight, Chase was a skilled mage, specializing in identifying and disarming magical traps. His expertise had proven invaluable time and again, making him one of Cassian's most trusted knights.

"There are no traps," Chase continued, "but…" He gestured, and the letter unfolded itself mid-air.

Cassian leaned closer to read:

"a wtocehd eth ppuleer rfowle egntly yswa,

itlnu ti saw kdplceu ni eth hgilt fo dya.

sit ltapse fdeada, gnweiihrti ni aesrpid,

arrecid ot a lnda fo cyi riae."

Cassian scowled. "What am I looking at? These aren't even words."

"There's an enchantment, idiot," Lucian muttered, floating closer to inspect the parchment.

"There's an enchantment, sir," Chase echoed, earning a sharp glance from Cassian.

Cassian's brow furrowed as he glanced between the two. Lucian, for all his sheltered upbringing, seemed to know what he was talking about. 'He must've picked this up from his experience with dark magic,' Cassian realized. The thought annoyed him more than it should.

"Can you dispel it?" Cassian asked, his tone clipped.

Chase hesitated. "I can try, sir. However…"

Reynolds stepped in. "Enchantments like this usually come with conditions set by the caster."

"Conditions?" Cassian repeated, frowning.

"For example," Reynolds explained, "some enchantments can only be broken if the object is burned, submerged, or exposed to moonlight. The caster decides the condition."

"So, until we figure out the condition, we can't read this?" Cassian growled.

"Exactly, sir," Chase confirmed. "But I'll start testing a few common conditions. It'll take time, but I'll make sure the parchment stays intact."

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a curse. "Fine. Get to it."