Chapter 2 – The Bond That Shouldn’t Be

They put us in separate holding rooms after Kael nearly tore the enforcer's arm from its socket.

It wasn't official punishment—they wouldn't want to make a public record of it. Not when it would raise questions about how a "forged-blood commoner" like me made it through the Rite. Not when the bond clearly hadn't listened to their designs.

I sat on a stone bench, knees tucked under my chin, watching my reflection flicker in the mirrored ward embedded in the wall. The Mark on my chest still glowed faintly beneath my clothes. Not hot now—just steady. Like it was waiting.

For what?

My execution?

Kael?

Another ripple of stolen memory?

I didn't know.

And worse—I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

A sharp rap echoed through the silence.

Then the door creaked open.

Not a guard.

Him.

Kael stepped inside, alone, his face blank as a sealed envelope.

I sat up fast.

"You're not supposed to be here."

He leaned against the wall opposite me, arms crossed. "Neither are you."

A beat of silence passed.

Then I said, "They're going to try to separate us again."

"They won't succeed."

"You sound confident."

"I'm not."

He looked tired.

Not physically. Soul-deep tired. Like the kind of exhaustion that came from fighting something inside your own blood. I recognized it too well.

He tilted his head.

"What's your real name?"

"I told you."

"That's not the name the bond gave me."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

Kael stepped closer, his boots soundless on the stone floor.

"When I first saw you—really saw you—I felt a name. In my mind. Not yours. Not mine. Just… there. Like it had always belonged to us."

"What name?"

"Eryndra."

I froze.

He studied me. "You know it."

I didn't respond.

Because he was right.

Eryndra wasn't my name.

But it was.

Somehow.

I'd dreamed it since I was a child. Saw it in burned glyphs. Whispered it in my sleep. Never told anyone.

Now Kael spoke it like a memory.

But it wasn't his.

And it wasn't mine.

"You're a descendant of the Seventh House," he said quietly. "Aren't you?"

My breath caught.

"You're not just forged blood. You're buried blood."

I stood slowly. "Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't."

His voice dropped lower.

"I felt it."

The bond between us shimmered.

Not visibly. Not to the eye.

But in the air.

Like heat waves.

Or warning.

Kael stepped closer, just a foot away now. The Mark pulsed on both of us.

"I don't want you here," he said. "You've turned my House against me. My future. My legacy. Everything I've trained for."

My jaw tensed. "You think I wanted this?"

"I think," he said, voice sharper now, "you don't understand what this bond is about to cost us both."

My fingers curled into fists. "Then cut it."

Kael didn't answer.

He just stared at me.

"You've tried," I whispered.

Another beat of silence.

Then—

"Yes."

A gust of wind exploded through the room.

The Mark reacted.

I staggered back, the symbol on my chest flaring so bright it cast shadows on the wall. Kael winced as his own Mark pulsed in reply, the pain visible across his face.

The bond rejected the idea of separation.

It didn't just resist.

It punished.

"You really tried," I said.

He nodded once.

"How?"

"I offered a ritual severance."

I blinked. "That can kill the bonded."

Kael's voice was hoarse.

"I was willing."

I didn't speak.

Because what do you say to the boy who tried to die to get away from you?

What do you say when your chest aches because of it—because of him.

Kael finally turned away, pressing a hand to the wall. His voice was quiet now. Flat.

"I didn't expect the Mark to bind so fast. Or so deep. This isn't normal."

"I'm not normal," I said.

He let out a hollow laugh. "You don't say."

Then, softer—

"It chose you."

I stepped closer. "It chose us."

He looked over his shoulder.

And for the first time since the Rite, there was no anger in his face.

Just one question.

"And what are we supposed to do with that?"

The door slammed open.

Veylan entered.

Kael stiffened.

I blinked. "You—?"

"Walk with me," Veylan said. "Now. Both of you."

We didn't argue.

Veylan led us through the north halls, far from where students were allowed, through a corridor layered with anti-trace runes and sound wards. No one would follow us here.

Kael matched pace beside me in silence.

Veylan glanced back. "Do either of you know what the twelfth line means?"

Neither of us answered.

He snorted. "Of course you don't. They erased it from your training materials."

Veylan stopped in front of a sealed door. He traced a rune in the air.

The lock opened.

Inside was a small, rune-lit study filled with scrolls and an old binding mirror. Veylan shut the door behind us and gestured toward a sigil on the wall.

"Sit. Watch."

We obeyed.

The sigil sparked to life, revealing a flickering vision: two bonded figures, older than us, standing in the same circle we'd stood in during the Rite. Their Marks burned gold and black—fused, complete.

But their faces?

One was Eryndra.

The other—

Kael flinched.

It looked like him.

Veylan folded his arms. "That's the last recorded pair who reached the twelfth line. They didn't survive it. Not as themselves."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

"They merged," Veylan said. "Fully. Soul, memory, power. The bond didn't just connect them—it combined them. One became dominant. The other was… consumed."

Kael was silent.

I felt nausea creep up my spine.

Veylan's gaze shifted to me.

"Now do you understand why they tried to stop it?"

I swallowed.

"Yes."

Outside the window, storm clouds gathered.

Inside the room, the silence was worse.

Kael finally spoke, voice quiet and controlled.

"Then we don't complete it."

Veylan arched a brow. "You think you have a choice?"

Kael didn't respond.

But I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

The same one I felt in my chest.

The bond wasn't waiting anymore.

It was growing.