Adrian's POV
I don't think. I just move.
Shadow magic explodes from my hands in a massive wave, slamming into Cassian before his sword can fall. He flies backward, crashing into two other hunters. They all go down in a tangle of armor and cursing.
"GO!" I yell at Eleanor, pulling her up the opposite side of the ravine.
Light arrows whistle past us. One grazes my shoulder, and pain flares hot and sharp. Light magic burns against shadow magic—it's like acid on my skin.
"They're getting away!" one hunter shouts.
"Split up!" Cassian's voice, furious. "Circle around!"
I drag Eleanor forward. She's barely conscious, her legs giving out every few steps. The temporary stabilization I gave her is already failing. She's dying faster now, the corruption spreading like wildfire through her body.
We need shelter. Now.
Through the gray wasteland, I spot it—a cave opening in the rocky hillside. It's small, dark, and probably full of something that wants to eat us. But it's better than being shot full of light arrows.
"Almost there," I grunt, half-carrying Eleanor.
We stumble into the cave just as another volley of arrows strikes the rocks behind us. I pull Eleanor deeper into the darkness, my shadow magic lighting the way with a faint glow from my tattoos.
The cave goes back about thirty feet, then dead-ends. Perfect. We're trapped.
"This is a terrible plan," I mutter.
Eleanor collapses against the wall, gasping. Her eyes are barely open. The black veins have spread across her entire face now, pulsing with dark energy. She's maybe got an hour left. Maybe less.
Outside, I hear the hunters spreading out, searching.
"Check every cave!" Cassian orders. "They can't have gone far!"
I press my hand against the cave wall, sending out a pulse of shadow magic. It spreads like invisible ink, creating a barrier over the entrance. Not much, but it'll hide us for a little while. Make the cave look empty to anyone passing by.
Eleanor makes a small sound—half gasp, half sob. I turn and see her staring at her hands. The flesh is literally crumbling, turning to shadow and dust.
"I'm falling apart," she whispers. Tears stream down her face. "I can feel myself dying."
Something twists in my chest. I've seen plenty of people die. I've killed some of them myself. But watching this girl—this princess who probably never hurt anyone—disintegrate because someone cursed her? That's different.
"You're not dying today," I say, but we both know I'm lying.
"Why did you help me?" Her voice is so small. "You don't even know me."
I crouch beside her, studying her face. Even half-corrupted, she's beautiful. More than that—she's strong. Most Shade-Born go mad within hours, but she's still here, still fighting.
"I told you. You're useful," I say.
"That's not the real reason."
Smart girl.
I sigh. "Fine. The truth? I'm tired of watching people die for no reason. The Guild did it to my mentor. To other kids I trained with. To anyone who didn't fit their perfect idea of what magic should be." My jaw clenches. "Your people threw you away like trash. I know how that feels."
Eleanor's eyes widen slightly. For a second, we just look at each other—two people the world decided weren't worth saving.
Then her body convulses. She screams, curling into a ball as the corruption surges. Her skin cracks like breaking glass, shadow mist pouring from the wounds.
She's dying. Right now. Right in front of me.
I have a choice.
I could let her die. Walk away. Find another way to stabilize my own power. It would be safer. Smarter.
Or I could do something incredibly stupid.
"This is probably going to be a mistake," I mutter, pulling out my knife.
I cut my palm deep. Black blood wells up, thick with shadow magic. The tattoos on my arms flare brighter, reacting to the blood.
Blood-binding is dangerous. Forbidden, actually. When you bind two people's life forces together, you're linking everything—magic, emotions, life span. If one dies, the other follows. No exceptions. No way to break it.
The Guild taught us about blood-binding as a warning: Never do this. Ever.
But Eleanor's dying, and I'm the only one who can save her.
"Okay, princess," I say, grabbing her limp hand. "Let's see if you're really worth all this trouble."
I cut her palm. Her blood is strange—red mixed with black, light and shadow swirling together. Just like her magical signature.
I press our bleeding palms together and begin the spell. The words are old, dark, powerful. They taste like iron and ash on my tongue.
Magic explodes between us.
I feel her immediately—her pain, her fear, her desperate will to survive. It floods into me like a tidal wave. And she feels me too. My loneliness. My rage. The thing in my chest that pulses with stolen power.
The binding takes hold, wrapping around both our hearts like chains made of light and shadow.
Eleanor's eyes snap open—fully aware now, no longer dying. She stares at me in shock.
"What did you do?" she gasps.
"Saved your life." I release her hand. The cut on my palm seals instantly. Hers does too. "We're bound now. My power flows into you constantly, keeping your corruption stable. But there's a price."
"What price?"
"If you die, I die. If I die, you die." I meet her eyes. "We're stuck with each other, princess. Like it or not."
Her face goes through about five emotions in two seconds—shock, fear, anger, and finally... relief?
"You're insane," she breathes.
"Probably." I stand, offering her my hand. "Can you walk?"
She takes my hand, and I pull her up. She's steady now, the corruption no longer eating her alive. The binding is working.
Through our connection, I feel her gratitude. Her confusion. Her fear of what this means.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Before I can respond, the cave entrance explodes.
Light magic tears through my barrier like paper. Cassian stands in the opening, sword blazing, six hunters behind him.
"Found you," he says coldly.
I step in front of Eleanor. "You really don't want to do this, pretty boy."
"She's an abomination!" Cassian's voice cracks. "She needs to die!"
"Then you'll have to kill me too." I feel Eleanor's shock through our bond. "Because we're blood-bound now. She dies, I die. So what's it going to be? Want two deaths on your conscience instead of one?"
Cassian's face goes white. "You didn't."
"Oh, I did."
The hunters whisper nervously. Blood-binding is forbidden for a reason. Killing one of us means murdering both. Even self-righteous elves have to think twice about that.
Cassian's sword wavers. Then his face hardens.
"Fine," he says. "Then you both die together."
He charges.
And that's when Eleanor's hand shoots past me, shadow magic exploding from her palm in a blast that dwarfs anything I've done.
The cave shakes. The hunters scatter. Cassian is thrown backward so hard he crashes into the rocks outside.
I stare at Eleanor. Through our bond, I feel her power—our combined magic, amplified by the binding, unstable and massive.
She looks at her hands, shocked. "How did I—"
"The binding," I breathe. "It's not just keeping you alive. It's mixing our powers."
Her eyes meet mine, wide and terrified and excited all at once.
Outside, Cassian groans, trying to get up.
I grab Eleanor's hand. "Time to go. Now."
We run out of the cave. The hunters are scattered, disoriented. We have maybe thirty seconds before they recover.
"Which way?" Eleanor gasps.
"Anywhere but here!"
We sprint into the wasteland, our bound hands still linked. Behind us, I hear Cassian screaming orders.
Then Eleanor stops suddenly, yanking me back.
"Adrian," she says, her voice strange. "Something's wrong."
"Yeah, we're being hunted by—"
"No. Something's wrong with the binding." She presses her free hand to her chest. Her eyes widen in horror. "I can feel something inside you. Something that's not you."
My blood runs cold.
She feels it. The thing the Guild put in me twenty years ago. The thing I've been trying to hide.
"Eleanor—"
"What IS that?" Her voice rises. "What's inside your chest?"
Before I can answer, her body goes rigid. Her eyes roll back. When she speaks again, it's not her voice—it's layered with something ancient and dark:
" Finally. The bridge has been created. Soon, I'll be free. "
Then she collapses.