The council chamber loomed like a cavern of judgment. Its high, arched ceiling swallowed every whisper, twisting it into echoes that seemed to come from the walls themselves. Dozens of faces ringed the circular table, their expressions shifting between curiosity, doubt, and cold calculation.
Lianna stood at the center of it all, her palms damp but her spine straight. The stone floor beneath her feet felt alive, as though it too was waiting to hear her answer.
"You claim a bond exists," Elder Seraphine's voice rang clear, slicing through the tense air. Her silver hair shimmered like a blade under the torchlight, her eyes narrowed with sharp skepticism. "A bond that ties you to a man we have never seen. Explain this to us. Who is he? Where is he?"
The words pressed against Lianna's chest like iron chains. She clenched her fists, forcing the tremor from her voice. "I… I don't know who he is yet. I don't even know his face. But the bond is real. I feel it every time my heart beats—it pulls at me, it burns inside me. He exists."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
Councilor Drevan, a man whose broad shoulders and booming voice often silenced lesser members, leaned forward. His dark eyes gleamed with suspicion. "Convenient, isn't it? To speak of a man who cannot be seen, cannot be touched, cannot even be named. Do you expect us to trust shadows, girl?"
Lianna's jaw tightened. Girl. The word stung, belittling, reducing her to a child fumbling in the dark. She swallowed the sting and lifted her chin.
"I don't expect you to trust shadows," she said, her voice steady now, "I expect you to trust me."
The chamber fell silent. Her words lingered, bold and defiant, before the whispers surged back.
"She dares speak so?"
"She thinks herself chosen."
"Perhaps she is mad."
Elder Alaric, the oldest among them, lifted his frail hand. The murmurs quieted instantly. His wrinkled face was etched with years of wisdom and sorrow, his eyes clouded but still piercing.
"Lianna," he said slowly, "bonds of fate are not impossible. But they are dangerous. They can shatter kingdoms if misunderstood. Tell me…" His voice softened, almost kind. "When you feel this bond, what do you see?"
Her breath caught. Images surged—flashes of fire, ruins, a man's silhouette cloaked in darkness, and a warmth that wrapped around her heart like an embrace. But overlaying them all was something else: fragments of another life, Amara's life. A battlefield, a crown, a hand slipping from hers as blood stained the earth.
Lianna trembled. Her fingers dug into her palms until her nails bit her skin. Should she speak of these visions? Or would they call her cursed, mad, unfit?
"I…" she hesitated, her lips parting, then closing again. The silence stretched.
Elder Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "Well? Speak."
"I see… fragments," Lianna whispered at last. "Not of this life. Of another. As though… as though I am remembering something that does not belong to me. But it feels like it is mine."
Gasps echoed.
"Reincarnation."
"Impossible!"
"Dangerous heresy!"
The whispers grew louder, some filled with fear, others with anger. Councilor Drevan slammed his fist on the table. "She speaks of forbidden things! Reincarnation is a tale for fools and dreamers."
But Elder Alaric only leaned back, his cloudy eyes narrowing. "Or perhaps," he murmured, "she is the proof the rest of us are too blind to see."
Lianna's heart pounded. For a fleeting moment, she saw it again—Amara's face in the mirror, her own reflection overlapping with a woman draped in crimson robes, eyes burning with sorrow and strength.
A shiver raced down her spine. I am not imagining this. I am not lying.
She straightened, her voice firm though her hands shook. "Believe me or don't. But the bond is there. Denying it will not make it vanish. And when the time comes, you will see him too. You will see us both."
The chamber erupted—some scoffing, others fearful, and a few silent with unreadable expressions.
Through it all, Lianna stood unmoving, though her heart hammered like a war drum. The air seemed thicker now, pressing in from every side. She felt eyes boring into her, measuring, calculating, doubting.
But beneath the weight of their judgment, the bond pulsed within her chest—warm, insistent, undeniable.
---
The council chamber's echoes clung to Lianna long after the doors had closed behind her. Their doubts, their whispers, their suspicion—they trailed her through the long stone corridors like shadows that refused to be shaken off.
By the time she reached her chamber, her body felt heavy, her head buzzing with fragments of memory that were not hers and yet burned as though carved into her soul.
She closed the door softly, leaning against it for a breath. The silence was thick, oppressive, a relief and a weight all at once. She expected to find her chamber untouched, empty… but it wasn't.
The air felt warmer than it should have been, carrying the faint scent of smoke and steel. The curtains swayed though no wind stirred them.
Her gaze darted across the room—her bed, her desk, the shadows pooling in the corners. That was when she saw it.
A single black feather lay across the pale sheets of her bed.
Her breath hitched. She froze where she stood, staring at it as though it might vanish if she blinked. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she stepped forward and lifted it.
It was softer than silk, but as her skin brushed it, she felt a faint hum of energy—like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn't her own.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Was he here?
The thought barely formed before a voice—low, deep, threaded with shadows—whispered through her mind.
You are not alone, Lianna.
The feather trembled in her hand. She gasped and spun around, eyes darting to every corner of the chamber. But there was no one. Nothing but silence.
"Who's there?" she demanded, though her voice shook. "Show yourself!"
The air grew heavier, pressing against her chest, against her very breath. And then, softer than the whisper of silk against stone, the voice returned.
I cannot.
Her knees weakened, but she gripped the feather tighter, grounding herself in its strange warmth. "Why?" she whispered. "Why hide from me? If this bond is real, if you're real—why won't you let me see you?"
Silence answered her. A silence that stretched, long and unbearable, until her heart ached.
Then, the voice again—rougher this time, almost pained.
Because the world is not ready for us yet.
Her lips parted, but no words came. The feather pulsed faintly, as though alive, the glow of some unseen power flickering and fading against her skin.
Tears stung her eyes. She had been called a liar, a dreamer, a girl too lost in shadows. Yet here—here was proof, burning in her hands, whispering in her soul.
"Who are you?" she whispered, desperate now, her voice cracking. "Tell me your name. Please."
The air stirred, the faintest trace of warmth brushing her cheek like a phantom touch.
But no name came. Only silence. Only the heavy ache of something withheld.
The feather dimmed, turning still and lifeless in her hands.
Lianna pressed it to her chest, her tears slipping freely now. The council's doubts, the chamber's whispers, the weight of a past life she didn't fully understand—they all pressed harder against her. But beneath it all, the bond pulsed steady, insistent.
He was real.
He was close.
And yet… he chose to remain hidden.
---
❓️❓️❓️❓️❓️
If he is bound so tightly to her soul, then what truth is he hiding by refusing to reveal his face?