Elara paced across the wooden floor of Mara's hut, her palms glowing faintly, her heartbeat fluttering like a trapped bird. Mara watched her with worried eyes while stirring herbs into a steaming bowl on the small stove.
"Elara," Mara murmured, "you must calm yourself. The more you panic, the more the bond reacts."
"I'm trying!" Elara cried, pressing a trembling hand to her mark. "But something is wrong. I feel it—I feel him."
The pulse beneath her skin was erratic, uneven—like a heartbeat caught between life and something darker. Every few seconds, a jolt of sharp discomfort flickered through her ribcage, stealing her breath.
"He's hurting," she whispered, voice cracking. "Lucien is hurting."
Mara set the bowl down and approached her. "Sit, child."
Elara sat only because her legs buckled beneath her. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, trying to steady herself, but each breath came heavier than the last.
Mara knelt before her, smoothing Elara's hair like a mother comforting a child after a nightmare.
"You must remember," Mara said gently. "The bond amplifies your fears. If he's fighting, you may feel echoes of it. But echoes do not mean death."
Elara swallowed hard. "He said he would come back."
"And he will. Shadow-walkers like him are not easily defeated."
But Mara's eyes betrayed a small flicker of doubt—and that terrified Elara more than anything.
Her breath hitched again.
A sudden sharp pain stabbed her chest, and she gasped, clutching the edge of the stool. A shockwave pulsed through her ribs as if someone had struck her with the flat side of a blade.
"Elara!" Mara lunged forward.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut. "He's… fighting," she managed through gritted teeth. "He's pushing himself too hard."
Mara guided her through slow breaths, but it did little to ease the strain.
"Lucien," Elara whispered into the dim hut, "please… come back."
The candle flames flickered violently.
And then—
A blast of energy rippled through the marsh.
The hut shook. The herb jars rattled. The wind outside roared with sudden force.
Mara scrambled to the window. "Something's happening near the village."
Elara forced herself upright. "Lucien."
She grabbed her cloak and pushed the door open despite Mara's protests. The marsh glowed faintly under the half-moon, mist curling along the water like white fingers beckoning her forward.
"Elara! You cannot go alone!" Mara called.
"I'm not letting him stand there without me!"
Her mark throbbed again—this time not with fear, but with fierce determination.
She ran.
The marsh was colder than before—so cold that every breath burned in her lungs. The moon glimmered over the water, guiding her like a silent witness.
Elara found herself following the bond's pull, an invisible thread tugging her forward. Every jolt of pain she felt told her she was getting closer.
Branches scratched her arms as she pushed through thick undergrowth. Mud sucked at her boots. Lantern lights flickered in the distance where the marsh opened into the far fields beyond Lioren.
"Lucien…" she whispered.
She could feel him like a second pulse.
Weakening.
Fading.
Yet still holding on.
She reached the crest of the low hill overlooking the village and froze.
The square was lit with flames.
Villagers huddled together, whispering prayers. The priests she recognized lay scattered—some unconscious, some groaning, some simply gone. Embers floated through the air like dying fireflies.
And in the center of it all, kneeling in the mud beside a broken cart—
Lucien.
His cloak was torn. One sleeve was ripped open, exposing a deep gash on his arm. His hair, usually so controlled, fell messily over his face. His breath came shallow, every inhale uneven.
He had won.
But he had paid a price.
Elara's heart squeezed painfully.
She stumbled down the hill toward him. "Lucien!"
His head lifted slightly at the sound of her voice. His eyes—one glowing faintly red from battle—softened.
"Elara…"
She rushed to him, kneeling beside him in the mud. "You promised you would come back."
"And I am here," he murmured. "Mostly."
Her throat tightened. "You look awful."
A faint, tired smile touched his lips. "I've had worse."
She touched his shoulder gently. "Did you save them?"
Lucien nodded. "They're unharmed."
Villagers approached slowly, cautiously—some with gratitude, others with lingering fear, unsure what manner of creature had defended them.
Thalen's mother bowed deeply to Lucien. "Thank you. For saving my family."
Lucien blinked, as if unaccustomed to gratitude.
But Elara squeezed his arm. "You did this. You protected them."
His throat bobbed once—whether from exhaustion or emotion, she couldn't tell.
"Let's get him inside," Elara said firmly. "He needs rest."
"No," Lucien said, attempting to stand. "We shouldn't stay here. The priests will regroup."
Elara caught him as he swayed. "Lucien, please. Sit. Just for a moment."
He lowered himself slowly as villagers gathered around.
But then—
The bond pulsed.
Hard.
Not from pain.
Not from fear.
But from something else.
Something shifting.
Lucien winced, hand flying to his chest.
Elara's mark flared in response, glowing through her cloak.
Mara, who had followed behind Elara, gasped. "Oh spirits…"
Elara scrambled closer. "What's happening?"
Lucien tried to speak, but his breath hitched.
Mara stepped forward urgently. "The bond is restructuring. His use of shadow magic was too intense. It's pulling at the connection between your lives."
Elara grabbed Lucien's hand. "Does it hurt?"
"Pain is nothing," he muttered. "I'm… only—"
He broke off, doubling over.
Elara's heart pounded wildly. "Lucien!"
The bond pulsed again—violent, sharp—as if the thread linking them was stretching too far.
Mara touched Elara's back. "Focus your breathing. Slow the bond. Don't let it pull both of you under."
Lucien's eyes fluttered shut. "Elara…"
She held his face between her trembling hands.
"Lucien, listen to me," she said, voice cracking but firm. "You're not alone. I'm here. Stay with me."
He exhaled shakily, leaning into her touch as if grounding himself on her heartbeat.
For a moment—just a moment—his forehead touched hers.
Not intimate.
Not romantic.
Just need.
Need for stillness.
Need for anchor.
Need for her.
Their breaths synced.
The mark dimmed.
The bond steadied.
Lucien opened his eyes slowly. "Elara…"
She wiped a smear of dirt from his cheek. "You're safe now."
"No," he whispered. "You're safe."
She shook her head fiercely. "We're safe when we're together."
Lucien's hand closed weakly around hers.
The words that followed were barely audible.
"Don't let go."
She didn't.
She wouldn't.
Not now.
Not ever.