Professor Chen moved to clear space in the center of the living room, pushing furniture back against the walls. Zevrael began pulling items from thin air with casual precision—a silver knife that gleamed with an edge that looked sharp enough to cut reality itself, a shallow bowl made of what looked like black stone, candles that burned with purple flame despite having no visible wicks.
"Protection bonds are simpler than romantic bonds," Zevrael explained as he arranged the items in a precise circle on the floor. "We need blood from both of us, binding words, and physical contact. The ritual itself isn't pleasant—you'll feel the magic quite intensely—but it's quick. Five minutes, maybe less."
"What do you mean by 'isn't pleasant'?" Marcus asked nervously.
"The magic burns," Zevrael said bluntly. "Not literally—your skin won't be damaged—but it will feel like fire in your veins. Some people describe it as being struck by lightning. Others say it's like drowning and breathing for the first time simultaneously. Everyone experiences it differently, but no one would call it comfortable." He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "Also, once the bond is completed, it will be felt throughout the underworld. The King himself will receive notification of our contract—it's automatic with any new demonic bond. He'll know I'm bound to you."
Marcus swallowed hard. "Okay. Good to know."
Julian looked at Valerius, a sudden worry creeping into his chest. "Is that true? Did that happen with us too? Did the King receive notification of our bond?"
Valerius's expression became serious. "Yes. The moment our bond completed, I felt it register throughout the underworld. It's automatic for any demonic bond—the King receives notification of what kind of bond was formed, who it's with, and the demon's identity. My family may have kept me isolated from normal demonic channels, but I'm still a demon. The underworld's magic doesn't care about isolation—it tracks all of us."
Julian felt his stomach drop. "So the King of the Underworld knows about me. About us."
"He knows a bond was formed," Valerius confirmed. "He knows it's a blood bond, not just a protection bond. He knows my name and that I'm bound to a human." He reached out to take Julian's hand. "But that's all he knows. He doesn't have your name, your location, or any details beyond the bare facts that the magic automatically reports."
"Is that... bad?" Julian asked, his anxiety rising. "Should we be worried about that?"
"Not immediately," Valerius said, then paused, his expression growing more troubled. "But there's something I haven't mentioned yet. Now that I'm free from my family's imprisonment, I'm required to present myself to the King personally. To hand him our bond contract and explain the circumstances of my freedom. It's protocol for any demon who forms a new bond after an extended absence from the underworld."
"When do you have to do this?" Julian asked, his grip tightening on Valerius's hand.
"Soon," Valerius admitted. "Within weeks, not months. The longer I delay, the more it looks like I'm avoiding my obligations. And given that I was supposed to be imprisoned..." He trailed off, the implications clear.
Professor Chen looked troubled. "That's something we should keep in mind moving forward. The King might take an interest, particularly if Julian's power continues to grow and Valerius's sudden freedom raises questions."
Zevrael cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to the present moment. "As I was explaining to Marcus," he said, returning to his discussion of the ritual, "I won't lie to you about what to expect. That was part of our negotiation—complete honesty, even when the truth is frightening."
Marcus refocused on Zevrael, pushing aside his worry about Julian's situation. "I appreciate that," he said quietly. "Even if it makes this more terrifying."
Zevrael's expression softened slightly. "For what it's worth, I'll make it as quick as possible. And once the initial bonding is complete, the pain fades immediately."
He finished arranging the candles in a perfect circle, each one placed with mathematical precision. The purple flames cast strange shadows that seemed to move independently of their source. "Everyone else needs to stay outside the circle," Zevrael instructed. "Elena, maintain your wards—Malphas will try to interfere the moment he senses what we're doing. Valerius, keep Julian close and be ready to reinforce the wards if necessary. Once the ritual begins, it can't be interrupted or it could damage both Marcus and me."
Professor Chen ushered Julian and Valerius back against the wall, giving the ritual circle plenty of space. Julian wanted to say something to Marcus—some word of comfort or apology—but his roommate was focused entirely on Zevrael now, his jaw set with determination.
"Last chance to walk away," Zevrael said softly, offering Marcus the same out he'd given before. "I won't judge you if you change your mind."
Marcus looked at the crows pressed against the windows, at their unblinking black eyes and the frost spreading across the glass. He looked at Julian, and some complex emotion flickered across his face—fear, resentment, resignation, and underneath it all, a thread of grim determination.
"I'm not walking away," Marcus said firmly. "I choose life. Even if it costs me my autonomy. Even if it changes everything. I choose to live."
Zevrael nodded with what looked like respect. "Then step into the circle and kneel."
Marcus took a deep breath and crossed the boundary of purple flames. The moment his foot touched the space inside the circle, the candles flared brighter, and Julian felt a surge of magic that made every hair on his body stand up. His own marks burned with sympathetic response, recognizing the ancient power being invoked.
Marcus knelt in the center of the circle, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Zevrael knelt across from him, the silver knife gleaming in his hand.
"Give me your right hand," Zevrael said gently.
Marcus extended his hand, and Julian could see it trembling. Zevrael took it carefully, almost reverently, holding it palm-up between them.
"This will hurt," Zevrael warned. "But only for a moment."
He drew the blade across Marcus's palm in one swift, precise motion. Blood welled up immediately, dark red against Marcus's pale skin. Marcus hissed through his teeth but didn't pull away. The blood dripped into the black stone bowl, each drop hitting with a sound like a bell tolling.
Zevrael set down Marcus's hand and cut his own palm with the same blade. His blood was darker than Marcus's—almost black in the candlelight—and when it hit the bowl, it seemed to writhe like something alive, mixing with Marcus's blood in patterns that hurt to look at directly.
The moment the two bloods touched, the purple flames erupted into pillars of fire that reached toward the ceiling. Outside, the crows began to shriek—a terrible, cacophonous sound that made Julian want to cover his ears. They threw themselves at the windows with renewed fury, and Julian could see cracks starting to spiderweb across the glass.
Professor Chen's hands moved in complex patterns, her lips moving in silent incantations as she reinforced the wards. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort of holding back Malphas's assault while the ritual took place.
Inside the circle, Zevrael was speaking, his voice cutting through the chaos with supernatural clarity. "Repeat after me," he said to Marcus. "I, Marcus Chen, accept this bond of protection."
"I, Marcus Chen, accept this bond of protection," Marcus repeated, his voice shaking but clear.
"I bind my life to yours, my safety to your strength."
"I bind my life to yours, my safety to your strength."
"From this moment until death and beyond, we are connected."
Marcus's voice caught slightly on this one, the weight of those words finally hitting him. "From this moment until death and beyond, we are connected."
Zevrael took Marcus's bleeding hand and pressed it against his own chest, directly over his heart. Marcus gasped at the contact, his eyes going wide. Julian could see the magic flowing between them now—visible threads of power that wrapped around both demon and human like shimmering chains.
"I, Zevrael, accept this bond of protection," Zevrael said, his voice resonating with power that made the air vibrate. "I bind my strength to your life, my power to your safety. From this moment until death and beyond, we are connected."
He pressed his own hand against Marcus's chest, directly over his heart, their palms aligned with both their hearts beating beneath. The moment both hands were in place, the connection locked.
The purple flames exploded outward with a roar that shook the entire house. Julian felt the shockwave hit him, a wall of pure magical energy that made his own bond with Valerius sing in recognition. The flames engulfed both Marcus and Zevrael completely, hiding them from view in a column of purple fire that burned without heat.
Marcus screamed—a raw sound of shock and pain that made Julian's chest constrict with guilt and horror. Through the flames, Julian could see his roommate's body arching backward, every muscle locked in agony as the magic carved itself into his very soul.
"Marcus!" Julian started forward, but Valerius caught him.
"You can't interrupt," Valerius said urgently. "If you break the circle now, it could kill them both."
Julian forced himself to stay still, though every instinct screamed at him to help his roommate. Through their bond, he could feel Valerius's own distress—memories of his own bonding, the pain and pleasure and overwhelming intensity of having another being written into the fabric of his existence.
The flames began to recede, pulling back into the candles like they were being inhaled. As they faded, Julian could see Marcus on his hands and knees in the center of the circle, gasping for breath like he'd been drowning. Zevrael knelt beside him, one hand on Marcus's shoulder, steadying him.
"Breathe," Zevrael said quietly. "It's done. The worst is over."
Marcus lifted his head, and Julian saw dark marks spreading across his left shoulder and up his neck—symbols similar to Julian's chest marks but arranged in different patterns. But what caught Julian's attention most was the clear handprint burned into Marcus's chest, directly over his heart. Black as ink against his pale skin, every line and whorl of Zevrael's palm and fingers perfectly preserved.
Marcus looked down at himself, then at Zevrael, and his eyes widened. Zevrael's shirt had burned away at the chest during the ritual, revealing an identical mark over his heart—Marcus's handprint, a mirror image of what now adorned Marcus's chest.
"The handprints," Marcus breathed, touching his chest with trembling fingers. "They're permanent?"
"The most permanent marks of all," Zevrael said quietly. "A visual reminder that we each hold the other's heart now. Literally and figuratively."
"I can feel you," Marcus gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Zevrael. "In my head. Your presence—it's like you're standing right behind me even though I can see you in front of me. How is that possible?"
"That's the bond," Zevrael said gently. "You'll always be able to sense me now. My location, my emotional state, whether I'm in danger. And I can sense the same from you."
Marcus closed his eyes, and Julian could see him concentrating. "You're... calm. Satisfied. But also—" He opened his eyes again, looking at Zevrael with surprise. "You're nervous. Why are you nervous?"
Zevrael's lips quirked in a small smile. "Because I just bound myself to a human who has every reason to hate me. Because I don't know if this bond will be a blessing or a burden for either of us. Because despite our negotiations and good intentions, we're both stepping into unknown territory."
"You're being honest again," Marcus said, and there was something like wonder in his voice.
"I promised I would be," Zevrael replied simply.
Outside, the crows scattered all at once, taking flight in an explosion of black feathers and terrible cries. The oppressive weight of Malphas's attention lifted from the room so suddenly that Julian actually stumbled. Professor Chen sagged against her desk, breathing hard from the effort of maintaining the wards through the ritual.
"It's done," she said, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. "The bond is complete. Malphas can't touch Marcus now."
Zevrael stood smoothly and offered Marcus his hand. Marcus stared at it for a moment, then took it, allowing the demon to help him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and Zevrael steadied him with a hand on his elbow.
"The disorientation will pass," Zevrael said. "The bond needs time to settle. You'll feel strange for a few hours—like you're not quite alone in your own head."
"I'm not alone in my own head," Marcus said, and his voice was tight with barely controlled panic. "You're there. I can feel you there."
"I know," Zevrael said, and his tone was infinitely patient. "It's invasive. Uncomfortable. Eventually, you'll get used to it. Eventually, you might even find it comforting."
Marcus pulled his arm away, stumbling back a step. "I need—I need space. I need to think. I need—"
"You need to breathe," Zevrael said calmly. "You're having a panic attack. That's normal after a bonding. Sit down before you fall down."
"Don't tell me what to do," Marcus snapped, but he did sink into the nearest chair, his hands shaking as he touched the marks on his shoulder. "Oh god. These are permanent, aren't they? Everyone's going to see them. Everyone's going to know—"
"They'll see marks," Zevrael interrupted gently. "Most humans won't recognize them as demonic bonding symbols. You can tell people they're tattoos if you want. Or burn scars. Or a birthmark. Whatever makes you comfortable."
Marcus looked up at him, and Julian saw tears threatening at the corners of his roommate's eyes. "I just gave up everything. My autonomy, my future, my right to choose who I care about. I gave it all up and I can't take it back."
"No," Zevrael agreed quietly. "You can't take it back. But you're alive, Marcus. Your soul is your own. Malphas can't touch you now, no matter how long he waits or how hard he tries. You made an impossible choice, and I know it cost you more than anyone should have to pay. But you're alive."
"For now," Marcus said bitterly. "Until this bond drives me insane. Until I start developing feelings I don't want and can't control."
"Then we deal with it together," Zevrael said, and there was steel underneath the gentleness in his voice. "We negotiated boundaries. We agreed to communicate. If you start feeling things that frighten you, you tell me. If I cross a line, you tell me. We make this work, Marcus, or we both suffer. I have just as much invested in this bond working as you do."
Marcus was quiet for a long moment, his breathing gradually slowing as the panic attack subsided. Finally, he looked at Zevrael with exhausted eyes. "Do you promise? That we'll figure this out? That you won't just—take what you want because the bond says you can?"
"I promise," Zevrael said, and Julian could hear the weight of a demon's oath in those words. "Whatever happens between us, it will be because we both choose it. Not because the bond forced it."
Marcus nodded slowly, though he didn't look entirely convinced. He turned to Julian, and the accusation in his eyes made Julian's chest ache. "I hope this was worth it. I hope whatever you and Valerius have is worth me giving up everything."
He paused, then looked between Zevrael and Valerius, his expression hardening. "I've watched enough movies and shows to know how this works. When Julian and I die—if we die—our souls are going to hell, aren't they? That's what happens when you're bonded to demons."
The room went very quiet. Julian felt his stomach drop. He'd been so focused on the immediate threats, on learning to control his magic, on keeping Marcus alive, that he hadn't thought about what came after. About where his soul would go when his human life ended.
Valerius and Zevrael exchanged a long look, and Julian could see them having some wordless conversation. Finally, Valerius spoke, his voice steady.
"Yes," Valerius said bluntly. "When you die, your soul will go to the underworld. That's automatic with any demonic bond—the moment death occurs, your soul is pulled there."
"For blood bonds like Julian and Valerius's, where there's romantic and sexual connection," Zevrael continued, "the soul is bound even more tightly. But all demonic bonds - protection or blood - pull the human soul to the underworld upon death. That's non-negotiable."
Marcus's face went pale. "So my soul is going to the underworld too. No matter what."
"Yes," Zevrael confirmed. "The moment you die, your soul will be pulled to the underworld automatically. But—" He held up a hand before Marcus could panic further. "Once you're there, you'll have a choice. You can agree to stay with me, to exist in the underworld as my bonded mate. If you do, your soul remains yours, under your control. Or you can refuse."
"And if I refuse?" Marcus asked.
Zevrael's expression became grave. "If you die in the mortal realm and your soul is pulled to the underworld, then refusing to stay means oblivion. The end of consciousness. There is no heaven, no reincarnation, no peaceful afterlife. Just the cessation of existence."
"But," Zevrael added, his tone shifting slightly, "that's only if you die here. Remember what we discussed earlier—about you coming to the underworld while still alive, establishing your medical practice there? If you make that choice while living, the magic works differently. You'd be choosing the underworld as your home, not having your soul forcibly pulled there at death. That choice gives you more... permanence. More control."
"So if I go while I'm alive, I actually get to live there instead of just existing as a dead soul?" Marcus asked.
"Exactly," Zevrael confirmed. "The King can use magic to extend your lifespan indefinitely if you're serving a useful purpose in the underworld. You'd age much slower there, potentially live for centuries. And when you finally do choose to end your existence—if you ever do—it would be on your terms, not forced by mortal death."
Marcus processed this. "So my best option is to not die at all. To go to the underworld while I'm still alive and functional, so I keep control over my existence."
"Yes," Zevrael said simply. "That's why I offered it. Not just because I want your companionship, but because it's genuinely the better option for you. More agency, more choice, more time."
"Wait," Marcus interrupted, his analytical mind catching up. "My bond used blood too. We mixed our blood in the ritual, just like Julian and Valerius did. So why would the outcome be any different? Why wouldn't I be bound the same way?"
Zevrael's expression was grave. "Because the type of bond matters more than the ritual components. Yes, we used blood magic—all demonic bonds require it. But blood bonds are named for the intimacy of their formation, not just the blood itself. Julian and Valerius's bond was forged through sexual union, through complete physical and emotional vulnerability. That level of intimacy creates a deeper soul connection."
"So mine is... shallower?" Marcus asked.
"Different," Zevrael corrected. "A protection bond ties our life forces together, yes. Your soul will come to the underworld when you die. But the bond itself is less... absolute. You'll have more genuine choice about whether to stay because the magical compulsion is weaker. With blood bonds, by the time death comes, the human usually can't imagine existence without their demon. The bond has become so intertwined with who they are that choosing oblivion feels impossible."
"And with protection bonds?" Marcus pressed.
"You'll care about me, certainly. The bond ensures that. But it won't consume you the way blood bonds do. When you die and face that choice—stay in the underworld or embrace oblivion—you'll be able to make it with more clarity. Less magical interference with your decision-making."
"So it's still existence with you or nothing," Marcus said flatly. "Just with slightly less magical coercion pushing me toward one option."
"Yes," Zevrael admitted. "I won't pretend that's fair. It's not. But it's the reality of demonic bonds and mortal death."
"The only advantage," he added, looking at Marcus, "is that while your soul is in the underworld, even temporarily while you're making your choice, Malphas can't touch it. He can only claim souls in the mortal realm at the moment of death. Once you're in the underworld, you're beyond his reach regardless of what you ultimately decide."
Marcus let out a shaky breath. "So at least there's that. I get to choose between existing with you or not existing at all, instead of having a Soul Reaper make that decision for me."
"Yes," Zevrael said quietly. "At least there's that."
Professor Chen cleared her throat gently. "This is why proper education about supernatural bonds is so important. These are the questions that should be answered before a bond is formed, not discovered afterward."
"Bit late for that now," Marcus said, touching the handprint on his chest.
"Marcus—" Julian started.
"No," Marcus interrupted, standing up on shaky legs. "I don't want apologies. I don't want explanations. I just want—" He stopped, pressing his hand against the marks on his shoulder. "I just want to go home and pretend this is all a nightmare I'm going to wake up from."
"I'll come with you," Zevrael said quietly.
"I said I wanted space," Marcus snapped.
"I know," Zevrael replied, unruffled. "But you're emotionally unstable and magically disoriented. You shouldn't be alone right now, even if you want to be." He glanced at Marcus, noting how he swayed on his feet. "And you can barely stand. I'm not making you walk back to campus in this condition."
"So what, you're going to carry me?" Marcus said bitterly.
"I'm going to transport us through shadow," Zevrael said. "The same way I arrived. It's instantaneous—I can take us directly to your dorm room. You won't have to walk at all."
Marcus blinked. "Through shadow. You mean teleporting."
"More or less. It will feel disorienting—like stepping through cold water—but it's quick. And it will spare you the physical strain." Zevrael's expression softened slightly. "I'll maintain distance once we're there. I'll stay invisible. But let me at least get you home without you collapsing halfway across campus."
Marcus's resistance crumbled under the weight of his exhaustion. "Fine. But you stay invisible once we're there. And you don't talk to me unless I'm about to do something stupid."
"Agreed," Zevrael said.
Zevrael stepped closer to Marcus, extending his hand. "Ready?"
Marcus looked at the offered hand, then at Julian one more time. The accusation in his eyes made Julian's chest ache, but Marcus didn't say anything else. He just took Zevrael's hand.
The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, reaching toward them like living things. Julian watched as darkness wrapped around both Marcus and Zevrael, obscuring them from view. For a moment, Julian caught Zevrael's color-shifting eyes through the shadows—regret, determination, and underneath it all, a thread of genuine concern for the human he was now bound to protect.
Then they were gone, the shadows dissipating as quickly as they'd gathered, leaving only empty space where they'd been standing.
The room felt hollow and cold despite the warmth from the fireplace.
Professor Chen extinguished the ritual candles with a wave of her hand. The purple flames died without smoke, and the black stone bowl dissolved into nothing, taking the mixed blood with it.
"He'll adjust," she said quietly, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. "The bond will help him. In time, he might even—"
"Don't," Julian interrupted. "Don't tell me he'll be grateful. Don't tell me it's for the best. We just forced him into a permanent bond with a demon he met an hour ago. There's nothing good about that."
"You're right," Professor Chen said after a moment. "There isn't. But he's alive, Julian. That's something."
Julian wanted to argue, wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all, but exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. The emotional toll of the evening, combined with his earlier training, left him feeling wrung out and hollow.
"We should go," Valerius said gently, his hand on Julian's shoulder. "You need rest. Tomorrow we can continue your training."
Julian nodded numbly. "Can we—can we go the same way? Through shadow? I don't think I can handle the walk back right now."
"Of course," Valerius said, his expression softening with understanding. He turned to Professor Chen. "Thank you, Elena. For everything tonight."
"Get him home safely," Professor Chen said, her exhaustion evident in her voice. "And Julian—don't carry all of this guilt alone. What happened tonight was necessary, even if it was difficult."
Julian wanted to argue, but he was too tired. He just nodded and let Valerius pull him close, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.
"Ready?" Valerius asked quietly.
Julian leaned into him. "Yeah."
The shadows rose around them, cool and dark, and Julian closed his eyes as the world shifted. It felt like falling through cold water, just as Zevrael had described—disorienting but mercifully brief. When Julian opened his eyes again, they were standing in his dorm room, the familiar space feeling both comforting and strange after everything that had happened.
Julian sank onto his bed, exhaustion making his limbs heavy. "Marcus will never forgive me," he said quietly. "Every time he looks at me, he'll remember what he had to give up to stay alive."
Valerius sat beside him, pulling Julian close. "Perhaps," he agreed. "Or perhaps, in time, he'll see it differently. But right now, he needs space to grieve what he's lost."
Julian nodded against Valerius's chest, drawing comfort from his demon's solid presence. "I hate this. I hate that loving you means other people suffer."
"I know," Valerius said softly. "But loving you means I'd do it again. I'd save Marcus a thousand times if it meant keeping you safe."
Julian wanted to find comfort in those words, but all he could think about was Marcus's face—the betrayal, the fear, the resignation. His roommate had sacrificed everything to stay alive, and Julian would carry that guilt for the rest of his life.
Down the hall, Marcus was in his room with Zevrael watching over him. Two people bound together by necessity rather than choice, trying to navigate an impossible situation.
And tomorrow, the real work would begin—learning to live with the consequences of the choices they'd been forced to make.