The palace had settled, but the air still vibrated with tension. Every stone, every corridor, seemed alert, as if the walls themselves had learned to anticipate danger. I could feel the pulse of the artifact beneath my skin, faint but insistent, like a heartbeat that refused to slow. And for the first time, I understood Malrik's warning: nothing here waited idly.
He led me down the main hall, silent but decisive, steps measured, eyes scanning every shadow. The bond hummed sharply, a reminder that we were linked—not just by fate or artifact, but by necessity. I could feel the way he thought, how his intentions flowed into mine, and I matched him instinctively, despite the fear knotting in my chest.
"The intruder won't retreat for long," he said quietly. His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, like steel drawn. "They will test the boundaries. They will try to provoke you, to pull the artifact against us."
I nodded, though I didn't speak. There was little point in words when the palace itself seemed to anticipate every movement. Shadows danced unnaturally along the walls, flickering like smoke in candlelight, and I had the unnerving feeling that eyes—human or otherwise—watched from every corner.
We reached the observation balcony overlooking the outer gates. The city beyond stretched like a labyrinth, spires and towers bathed in the dying red of sunset. And in the distance, the first silhouettes appeared—figures moving with deliberate precision, not clumsy soldiers, but hunters trained to strike with knowledge and speed.
"They're closer than I expected," I murmured, gripping the railing.
Malrik's gaze followed mine. "They always underestimate the palace's perception. They assume the walls are blind."
"They're coming for me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my chest tightened.
"Not for you alone," he corrected. "For the artifact. You are the key. But together…" He trailed off, letting the bond speak. I could feel his determination radiating, anchoring me. "Together, we are more than they anticipate."
The hunters moved with uncanny coordination, their steps silent, their formation precise. Malrik and I watched, waiting, and then he turned to me. "You must learn to anticipate. Not just the intruder, but their intent. Focus on the bond, on how it reacts."
I swallowed hard. "How?"
He reached for my hand, his fingers brushing mine, and the artifact pulsed sharply, sending a thrill up my arm. "Trust the rhythm. Feel the tension before it manifests. The artifact responds to emotional convergence. Fear, hesitation, doubt—they feed it. Control that, and you control its reactions."
I nodded again, letting my fear fold into awareness. The bond vibrated, attuning me to him, to the palace, to the shifting currents of the artifact's power. For the first time, I understood the intimacy he had described—not closeness of heart, but synchronicity of being.
A sudden clatter from below shattered the fragile calm. One of the hunters had breached the outer perimeter, testing the walls. The palace responded instantly—firestones ignited, corridors shimmered with protective wards, and the shadowy figure moved as if drawn to me, unseen but undeniable.
Malrik's hand tightened around mine. "Stay close. Let the bond guide you."
The hunter emerged from the shadows, cloaked and lethal, their eyes gleaming with intent. I could feel the artifact pulse against my palm, responding to my rising fear, and I let the bond steady me.
"Step aside," Malrik commanded. His presence alone seemed to warp the space, bending shadows back, forcing the intruder to hesitate.
The hunter lunged. Swift, precise, and deadly. I flinched, but Malrik was already moving, stepping between us with a fluid grace that drew the shadow back. The bond flared, reacting to the danger, amplifying his strength, linking our awareness.
"Focus," he said, eyes on mine. "Align with me."
I took a deep breath, letting the pulse of the artifact guide my thoughts, my movements. Fear still surged, but it was tempered by the rhythm of the bond. Together, we moved—not just reacting, but anticipating. The hunter faltered, their strikes misaligned, the shadows bending against the palace's will.
Malrik's hand brushed mine again, and the warmth of the connection anchored me, giving me clarity amidst the chaos. For a moment, the fear melted into a strange exhilaration. I realized the bond was not just a tether—it was a conduit, a shared strength that allowed us to move as one.
The hunter recovered, striking again with greater ferocity. Malrik's eyes narrowed, and the bond thrummed, warning me of the incoming attack. I moved instinctively, guided by the pulse, sidestepping and aligning my stance with his. The hunter's shadowy form recoiled, frustrated, and for a brief instant, I caught a glimpse of surprise—something human, beneath the calculated aggression.
"You're… faster than I anticipated," the intruder hissed.
Malrik's expression was unreadable. "You should have known better than to underestimate the artifact."
The hunter's form shimmered, retreating into the shadows momentarily, only to reemerge with renewed vigor. This was not just a test of strength—it was a psychological battle, probing our limits, measuring our synchronization.
I could feel the bond tighten as Malrik adjusted his stance, the artifact pulsing in response to our combined intent. For the first time, I realized how much of this fight relied on us, on our connection, our trust, our ability to act as one.
"Seris," Malrik murmured, just enough for me to hear over the clash of shadows and the hum of the artifact. "Do you trust the bond?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
"Good," he said, a hint of approval in his voice. "Then act with it. Let it guide your instincts."
The intruder surged forward again, faster this time, the shadows snapping like tendrils. But we were ready. The palace responded to the alignment, channels of light forming barriers, redirecting attacks. The bond flared sharply, linking our awareness, and we moved as one—Malrik blocking, guiding, correcting, and I flowing with him, our movements synchronized in a way that made the intruder stagger back, surprised at our cohesion.
For a moment, time slowed. I could feel every heartbeat, every pulse of the artifact, every microshift in Malrik's movements. Fear and adrenaline coexisted, but beneath them, something deeper stirred—trust, recognition, a spark of something neither of us had named yet.
The intruder hissed, retreating once more, shadows coiling like smoke around their form. "This is only the beginning," they said, voice fading but heavy with threat. "The artifact will belong to me, one way or another."
Malrik didn't respond immediately. His gaze found mine, and I felt the bond settle into a new rhythm, calm but charged. "We are ready," he said finally. "Whatever comes, we face it together."
I exhaled, relief mingling with lingering fear. The hunters had tested us, and we had survived. Not separately, not in spite of each other, but because of our connection. The bond pulsed warmly beneath my skin, a reminder of the strength we had discovered—not just as master and tether, not just as king and counterweight, but as allies forged in the heat of an impossible reality.
And in that moment, I realized something undeniable: this connection, fragile and dangerous as it might be, was the only thing that could keep us alive.
Malrik's hand brushed mine again, fleeting but grounding, and I felt a spark of awareness—not fear, not desire, but recognition. We were partners now, bound by fate, artifact, and choice. And the first strike had been survived.
But the hunters would return. And next time, they would not come alone.