Dawn came quietly.The suns rose one after the other, washing the world in pale gold and muted blue.
Lyara was already awake, fastening the last piece of her armor when Arin stirred. She looked the same as before — composed, disciplined, untouchable — but her eyes avoided his, and her hand lingered a fraction too long over her chestplate, right where the bond pulsed faintly beneath.
"You should eat something," she said without looking at him. "You'll need your strength."
He watched her move — precise, graceful, every gesture controlled. It was almost easy to forget she had nearly collapsed the night before.
"I can't tell if you're my savior or my captor," he said lightly.
Lyara hesitated. "Perhaps both. For now."
They left the outpost behind, traveling through a forest of luminous bark and whispering leaves. The silence between them was full — not of distance, but of awareness. Every time their arms brushed, the bond stirred — a faint spark under the skin, a whisper of the other's heartbeat.
By midday, the forest grew darker. A thin mist crept along the ground, carrying with it a low hum — almost a growl.
Lyara's hand went to her sword. "Stay behind me."
"Right." Arin reached for a branch — instinct, maybe — and it flared with faint light at his touch. Startled, he let go, and the glow followed him, like a wisp drawn to his breath.
Lyara glanced back. "You can draw light from the world itself…"
"I didn't mean to."
Her expression softened for the first time that day. "Then don't be afraid of it."
Before he could answer, the growl became a shriek. A creature — all bone and shadow — lunged from the mist. Lyara met it head-on, her sword flashing in arcs of silver. The thing was fast, too fast. One strike grazed her shoulder, sending her stumbling.
"Lyara!"
Arin didn't think. He ran forward, catching her before she hit the ground — and in that moment of contact, the bond flared violently to life.
Light burst around them, threads of gold weaving from his chest to hers. The creature recoiled, hissing, as the air filled with the scent of ozone and something warmer — like skin against sunlight.
"Arin… what—" Lyara gasped, her hand gripping his arm.
He couldn't answer. The warmth spread through him, spilling into her. His strength became hers — her heartbeat, his. Every emotion tangled: fear, determination, something dangerously close to longing.
Lyara's eyes glowed faintly, the same golden hue as his. She rose, her voice a whisper. "I can feel you."
She moved again — faster, stronger. Her blade cut through the creature with effortless grace. When it fell, dissolving into mist, she turned back to Arin, chest rising and falling.
The bond's light dimmed, leaving only the sound of their breathing.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Lyara said, "You shouldn't have come to me."
Arin smiled faintly. "Seems a bit late for that."
Her lips parted as if to argue, but instead she just stood there, searching his face. There was fear in her eyes, but not of him — fear of what they were becoming.
She stepped closer, her voice barely a whisper. "When I fight with your strength… I can feel your thoughts. Your heart."
"And?" he asked softly.
Lyara's gaze lingered on him, the distance between them shrinking to a breath. "And it's… disarming."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air between them hummed, filled with the quiet electricity of something inevitable — something neither could name.
Then Lyara stepped back, her tone firm again. "We should keep moving. There will be more."
Arin nodded, though his pulse still echoed in his ears.
As they walked on, the bond throbbed faintly — no longer chaotic, but alive.
Somewhere deep inside, Arin felt it whisper again:
The Soul Bond strengthens through trust... and desire.
He glanced at Lyara's back, sunlight glinting off her hair, and wondered — not for the first time — whether fate had sent him here to save her… or to fall with her.