The arrow took Sera in the shoulder, and the bond screamed.
She stumbled, gasping, but Davren caught her before she hit the ground. His arm locked around her waist, pulling her forward even as blood bloomed across her tunic.
"Keep moving," he growled, his voice rough with exhaustion. Behind them, the sound of boots on stone echoed through the narrow canyon—twenty soldiers, maybe more, all bearing the gray cloaks of the Covenant Office.
"I can't—" Sera's breath hitched.
"You can." Davren's grip tightened. "We're almost there."
Ahead, Kiran skidded to a stop at the canyon's edge, his hands already weaving light into the air. The magic came easier now, faster, like it knew what they needed before he did. A barrier shimmered into existence behind them—translucent, fragile, but enough to buy them seconds.
"How many?" Kiran called back, not taking his eyes off the spell.
"Too many." Davren half-carried Sera forward, her weight sagging against him. "Can you hold them?"
"Not for long."
Another arrow whistled past, shattering against Kiran's barrier. The magic flickered, and Kiran's knees buckled. Sera felt it—the drain, the exhaustion bleeding through the bond they'd formed three months ago in a candlelit room that felt like a lifetime away.
"Don't," she gasped. "Don't burn yourself out for me."
Kiran looked back at her, his face pale but determined. "That's not how this works."
No. It wasn't.
Because when one of them hurt, they all felt it. When one of them reached for power, the others lent their strength without asking. It wasn't a choice anymore—it was as natural as breathing, as inevitable as the tide.
The Covenant Office called it corruption. Unnatural. Dangerous.
Sera called it love.
They made it to the cliff's edge before the barrier shattered.
Davren set Sera down gently, his hands shaking as he pressed against the wound in her shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers, hot and slick, and he could feel her pain like it was his own—sharp and burning and wrong.
"We're trapped," Kiran said quietly, staring down at the drop below. Fifty feet of empty air, jagged rocks at the bottom, and the river beyond churning white with rapids.
Sera laughed, breathless and bitter. "Of course we are."
The soldiers emerged from the canyon, fanning out in a semicircle. Their captain stepped forward, his face carved from stone and duty. "Sera Hallin. Davren Cade. Kiran Vey. You are charged with the formation of an illegal multi-soul bond. Surrender, and your deaths will be swift."
"How merciful," Davren spat.
The captain's expression didn't change. "This is not personal. The law exists for a reason."
"Control," Kiran said softly. "You mean control."
"Order. Stability. A bond like yours threatens the foundation of every kingdom, every treaty, every carefully maintained balance of power." The captain drew his sword. "You are three people with the loyalty of thirty. You cannot be governed. You cannot be predicted. And so you cannot be allowed to exist."
Sera pushed herself upright, leaning heavily against Davren. Her magic flickered weakly in her chest—healing, always healing, but never fast enough. "We're not a threat. We're just—"
"Proof," the captain interrupted. "Proof that multi-soul bonds work. That they're stable. That they make people stronger." He raised his sword. "And that is the most dangerous thing in the world."
The soldiers advanced.
Kiran's hands came up, light gathering between his palms. Davren shifted, putting himself between Sera and the soldiers, his body a shield even though he had no weapon, no magic, nothing but his own flesh and bone.
Sera reached for them both—one hand on Davren's back, one on Kiran's arm—and felt the bond flare to life between them. Not breaking. Not even bending.
Just burning.
"Together?" she whispered.
Davren's hand covered hers. "Always."
Kiran's magic exploded outward.
It wasn't enough.
It was never going to be enough.
But gods, they tried.
Kiran's barrier held for ten seconds before the soldiers' mages shattered it. Davren threw himself at the nearest soldier, grappling for the man's sword, and managed to take down two before a blade found his ribs. He fell hard, gasping, and Sera screamed—felt his pain like a knife in her own chest—and poured everything she had into healing him.
The magic flowed between them, wild and desperate. Kiran lent his strength. Sera pulled from reserves she didn't have. Davren's wound closed, and he staggered to his feet, blood-soaked but alive.
"Stop this," the captain commanded. "You're only prolonging the inevitable."
"Good," Sera snarled.
She kissed Davren, hard and fierce, tasting copper and salt. Then she turned and kissed Kiran, her hand fisting in his shirt, pulling him close. "I love you," she said against his mouth. "Both of you. I need you to know that."
"We know." Kiran's voice broke. "Sera, we know."
"Then don't let go."
The soldiers closed in.
Davren fought like a man possessed, every movement precise and brutal. Kiran's magic lashed out in waves, burning through the air, but there were too many. Always too many. Sera tried to heal them as fast as they were hurt, but her power was failing, her body giving out.
An arrow took Kiran in the chest.
He dropped, and Sera felt it—the shock, the pain, the terrible wrongness of it. She crawled to him, her hands shaking, and pressed against the wound even though she knew it was too late. The arrow had pierced his lung. Blood bubbled at his lips.
"No," she sobbed. "No, no, no—"
Davren fell beside them, a sword through his stomach. He reached for her with trembling fingers, and she caught his hand, holding on like she could keep him here through sheer force of will.
"I'm sorry," Davren whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't." Sera's magic flickered, trying to heal them both, but it was like pouring water into a broken cup. "Don't you dare apologize."
Kiran's hand found hers, slick with blood. "Not your fault."
"It's all of our faults." Sera laughed, wild and broken. "We knew what we were doing. We knew they'd come for us."
"Worth it," Davren said, his voice fading. "You were worth it."
The bond pulsed between them—weak now, fraying, but still there. Still holding.
Sera pulled them both close, cradling Kiran's head against her shoulder, pressing her forehead to Davren's. "I won't leave you," she whispered. "Not even in death."
"We know," Kiran breathed.
The soldiers stood back, watching. Waiting.
Sera's magic guttered out. Davren's breathing stopped. Kiran's eyes closed.
And the bond—the beautiful, impossible, forbidden bond that had made them whole—finally shattered.
But even in death, they didn't let go.
The captain approached slowly, staring down at the three bodies tangled together at the cliff's edge. Sera's hand was still clasped in Davren's. Kiran's head still rested against her shoulder. Even in death, they looked peaceful. Complete.
"Burn them," the captain said quietly. "And make sure no one speaks of this."
One of the soldiers hesitated. "Sir... shouldn't we report—"
"Report what? That it took twenty of us to kill three people who refused to fight until the end? That their bond held even through death?" The captain's jaw tightened. "No. This stays buried. If word gets out that multi-soul bonds are this strong, this stable..." He shook his head. "The law exists for a reason. And this is why."
They burned the bodies that night.
By morning, there was nothing left but ash and a story the Covenant Office would spend the next two centuries trying to erase.
The tale became legend. Then rumor. Then nothing at all.
But some things cannot be truly destroyed.
Some bonds are too strong to break, even across lifetimes.
And in a palace far to the south, a young prince woke in the middle of the night with a hand pressed to his chest, feeling a pull he couldn't name. A warmth that didn't belong to him. A certainty that somewhere, somehow, he was incomplete.
Kael Ashford sat up in his bed, staring into the darkness, and wondered why he suddenly felt like he was waiting for something.
Or someone.
Or two someones.
In the north, a mage touched an ancient sigil and felt it hum to life beneath her fingers.
In the east, an assassin looked up at the stars and felt, for the first time in his life, like he was being called home.
The first Covenant of Three died together, their bond unbroken even in death.
The second was about to be born.