NATHEL
He shouldn't have brought her outside.
Not like this.
Not when the shadows were watching.
Not when the bond was pulsing so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.
But he couldn't say it in there — not in a hallway full of people who couldn't see what was slithering behind their reflections.
So now they stand behind the restaurant, near the quiet back road, the streetlights humming weakly above them.
May wraps her arms around herself.
"Nathel… talk to me. What truth?"
He breathes out shakily.
Everything in him says no —
Everything in the bond says tell her.
He meets her eyes.
"You think our story ended because we broke up," he says slowly. "You think it was just… heartbreak."
Her brows knit. "Wasn't it?"
He laughs under his breath — not cruel, but tired.
"No, May. It wasn't a heartbreak."
He pauses.
"It was a sacrifice."
Her blood chills.
"What?"
He steps closer, voice low.
"You felt the bond waking up again today. But it shouldn't be possible. We sealed it. We ended it — together."
Her heartbeat hammers.
"When? Why? I don't remember anything like that."
His eyes soften — with pain.
"You're not supposed to remember."
Her breath catches.
He continues, every word slow, heavy:
"There was a time, May… months before we broke up — when the thing that marked us… the thing that created the bond — woke up."
She stares. "You mean that thing in the shadows? The tall figure?"
He nods once.
"It wasn't watching us back then. It was hunting us."
Her pulse stumbles.
"Hunting… why?"
Nathel swallows hard.
"Because soul-bonds aren't natural anymore. Not in our world. They were outlawed centuries ago — sealed away by the Veil. Anyone who forms one is marked."
"Marked for what?"
His jaw tightens.
"Elimination."
May covers her mouth, shaking.
"That's impossible. I'm just… I'm just a normal girl. I lived my whole life normal."
He stares at her — eyes burning with something deeper than regret.
"No, May. You were never normal. And neither was I."
She feels dizzy.
Nathel takes a careful breath — like he's preparing himself for something that hurts to admit.
"You don't remember because I asked the Keeper to take the memory from you. To spare you the fear. To spare you the pain."
Her voice cracks.
"You took a memory from me?"
His throat works.
"I didn't want to. But you begged me to. You said you couldn't… you couldn't carry what was coming."
Her eyes well.
"What was coming?"
And then—
The streetlights flicker.
Once.
Twice.
Nathel stiffens instantly.
May's breath fogs.
A chill spreads across the road as something tall and inhuman drifts between the lights — a shape with no face, only shifting darkness.
May grabs Nathel's arm.
"What— what is that?"
His voice is barely a whisper.
"The reason we broke the bond."
The shadow figure's head tilts toward them — slow, unnatural, aware.
Nathel steps in front of May, eyes blazing with something fierce and ancient.
"May… run."
She doesn't move.
"I'm not leaving you."
He looks back at her — and for a heartbeat, she sees raw fear in his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
The shadow expands.
The street dies.
Nathel pushes her back, voice erupting:
"RUN!"
And the bond — awakened, wild, furious — detonates inside her chest.