The ritual chamber lay deep beneath the palace—far below sunlight, below warmth, below even the breath of the wind. The stone was obsidian, the floor cut with ancient veins of molten gold, pulsing like arteries under the skin of the kingdom.
It smelled of sulfur and smoke. Of old magic and older power.
Liora stepped into the sacred space slowly, her bare feet whispering against the heated stone. She wore a ceremonial gown stitched in flame-thread, its delicate fabric clinging to her skin like second fire. Her hands were steady, but her heart thundered in her chest.
She had never felt so exposed.
Riven stood across from her, cloaked in black and crimson. His shoulders squared, jaw tight. He didn't look at her. Not once. Not even as the flames between them flickered to life, rising in silent anticipation.
He hadn't spoken to her since the night of the throne room.
And maybe that was for the best.
The Queen sat high above them in a throne carved from volcanic glass and molten stone, her silhouette outlined in living flame. She looked pleased—calm and terrible, like a storm that knew it would win.
The High Flamekeeper raised his staff. The runes across the stone circle began to glow.
"By will of the Queen, and flame of the First Fire, we gather here to bind two souls as one. To tether power to purpose. To turn chaos to order."
Two chalices were placed on the altar. Between them, a blade forged from obsidian and set with a phoenix feather—burning endlessly.
"Come forward."
Liora stepped up to the altar. Her breath shook.
Riven did the same.
The High Flamekeeper nodded. "Your blood for the oath. Your fire for the binding."
The blade cut first across Riven's palm. He didn't flinch as his blood dripped into the left chalice.
Then they turned to her.
The blade burned her skin like lightning as it sliced, but she didn't cry out. She clenched her jaw and bled into the right chalice.
Flames erupted between the bowls, arching high. Black and gold fire twisted into a single pillar.
The magic slammed into her chest.
Liora's knees buckled. Her mouth opened but no sound escaped. She felt heat, pressure, then something worse—connection.
For one moment, she felt Riven's presence inside her skin. His heartbeat. His breath. His fury and restraint. His need to protect. His certainty.
Don't break her.
He spoke first.
"I bind myself in fire and flesh, in thought and instinct, to shield and contain. Her power shall not consume, for it flows through me. Her flame is mine to catch. Mine to quell. Mine to carry."
It was a vow not of dominance, but burden. And yet—it was still a vow of control.
The Flamekeeper turned to her.
Liora swallowed.
"I bind myself," she said, voice shaking, "in blood and breath, in ash and oath. I submit not to the leash, but to the choice. I burn, but I do not break."
Their blood ignited.
The flames between them shot outward, slamming into their chests.
Pain.
She gasped as a sigil carved itself into her skin, just above her heart. Gold and black, it shimmered faintly like a living thing.
On Riven's palm, the same mark glowed.
Then darkness took her.
She woke in silk.
Brisa was the first thing she saw.
"You're awake."
Kael stood behind her, arms folded tightly, jaw clenched. But this time, the quiet fire in his eyes had erupted into a storm.
"You shouldn't have done it," he said. His voice was low. Angry.
"I had to," Liora rasped.
"No," he snapped. "You think you had to. You always think your life is worth less than ours."
She sat up slowly, every muscle aching. "I did it for you. For Brisa."
Kael's voice rose. "Do you even hear yourself? You're bonded to him now, Liora! Gods, you don't even smell like you anymore!"
Brisa blinked. "Kael—"
But he didn't stop. He stepped closer. "You're different. Your flame, your aura—everything's warped. And you think this was the way to save us? That letting him—letting her bind you was the noble choice?"
Liora's jaw clenched. "I made the best decision I could."
Kael's face was red with fury. "No. You made the decision they wanted. Riven included."
"That's not fair."
He laughed once, bitter. "Fair? Since when has any of this been fair? You had a choice, Liora. And you chose him."
"I chose survival," she said. "And if you can't see that—"
"I see it," he interrupted. "I see that he's already under your skin. I see how you talk about him. Don't lie to me. Not to me."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Kael stared at her for one more second, then turned and walked out.
Brisa exhaled shakily. "That… was overdue."
Liora sat there, stunned. Her chest ached—not from the bond. From everything else.
Later that evening, she dined alone in the cold, vast hall of Riven's estate. Brisa had left hours ago. Kael hadn't come.
She was halfway through a bowl of roasted vegetables when the door opened.
Riven entered, his coat still smelling faintly of smoke. His gloves were gone. His eyes were unreadable.
She stood. Her instincts prickled.
He paused in the doorway. "Stay."
She didn't move.
He raised a brow, voice neutral. "Please. Sit."
Still, she resisted.
Then his voice dropped, soft, like a blade slipping into velvet.
"Sit."
Something in her spine snapped straight. Her legs moved against her will.
She sat. Slowly. Jaw tight. Heart racing.
Riven crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine. Sat across from her. Began eating like nothing had happened.
She couldn't stop trembling.
"That wasn't necessary," she said tightly.
"You didn't give me a choice," he replied. "You're not eating."
"I wasn't hungry anymore."
He glanced up. "Eat."
Her hand obeyed before her mind caught up. She took a bite. Chewed slowly.
"You hate this," he observed.
"Yes," she hissed. "Because I don't know where I end and your command begins."
"I never wanted this bond," he said. "But I will keep you alive."
She stood again. "So that's what I am now? A responsibility? A war asset?"
Riven rose too. Too close. The air tightened.
"You're something I can't afford to lose," he said.
Liora's breath caught. "That almost sounded human."
His voice lowered. "And you? You're not afraid of dying. But you're terrified of needing someone."
They were close now. Too close. His breath fanned her cheek.
Her pulse thundered. She didn't know where the compulsion ended and her desire began.
He leaned in, so close his lips nearly brushed hers.
"Good girl," he whispered.
Then he turned and left her, flushed, furious, and trembling with want.
She didn't sleep that night.