Ayra tried to rise from the glowing stone floor, but the bond yanked at her chest with a force that was sharp and insistent, like it had a mind of its own. Every movement she made sent a ripple not just through her own body but through Alric's too, twisting in ways that made her stomach clench. He grunted softly as the pressure shifted between them, and for a moment their eyes met—wide, shocked, frustrated, irritated.
"This is… impossible," she muttered, fingers curling into the hem of her tunic. The warmth of him pressed against her ribs, a heartbeat she could feel as if it were her own. "Why does it feel like you're inside me?"
Alric's jaw tightened, dark eyes unreadable. "Because I am. That's what the bond does. It links us—not just to feel, but to move, to exist. Every choice you make touches me, and every choice I make touches you."
Pain flared across her chest, sharp, insistent, and she shivered, instinctively pulling back. Leaning against the cold stone, she gasped, disoriented. She hated this sensation—the way it made her aware of him, aware of every subtle motion, every beat of his heart, every pull and press and shift of muscle. She wanted to scream, to run, to throw herself from the chamber floor, but the bond would not let her.
Alric studied her silently, expression unreadable, dark eyes locked on hers. "Do not fight it," he said, low, quiet, and somehow not unkind. "You cannot escape it."
She swallowed, chest tight. "Escape? I don't even know what this is. How do I stop it?"
He exhaled slowly. "You cannot stop it. You can only learn to control it—or survive it."
She glared, though the ache in her chest made it hard to hold her stance. "Survive it? You make it sound simple. It burns. It hurts. I can feel—" She paused abruptly, realizing she was describing his pain as much as her own. Her stomach twisted, nausea and fear intertwining.
"You're noticing me," he said flatly. "It reacts to attention. Awareness. The moment you stop thinking about yourself and feel for me… it tightens."
Ayra blinked, incredulous. "So… I'm supposed to care about you now? Great. Just what I needed."
Alric's lips twitched, a micro-expression she almost missed. Fighting a corner of a smile? Or a sigh? "Care is not the word," he murmured. "Awareness. Control. Focus. Everything else will kill us both."
The bond thrummed beneath them, a living presence, impatient, alive, vibrating in time with her pulse, and she clenched her fists against her sides, willing it to vanish, wishing it had never chosen her.
"You've survived worse," he said quietly, almost to himself. "And yet you cannot understand how small this is compared to what's coming."
Ayra's stomach dropped. "What's coming?"
He didn't answer at once. His eyes scanned the chamber, every muscle coiled like a spring. Then, finally, he said, "Someone is watching us. Someone who knows about the bond. They will come for us soon, and they will not hesitate to kill either of us."
Fear and anger twisted together in her chest, sharp and raw. "Kill us? Why?"
Alric's gaze narrowed. "Bonds like this are rare. Powerful. Dangerous. Whoever controls it holds more than armies or land—they hold life itself. And they want it."
Ayra took a step back, shivering. "So… we're a target?"
"More than a target," he said. "We are prey. And yet, we are the only ones who can survive this. That is the irony."
Her head spun. All her life she had survived because she had to, because she could. But this… this was different. She wasn't just a girl from a border village anymore. She was part of something bigger, something dangerous, something she could barely comprehend. And the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her shoulders like iron.
"Fine," she said finally, voice firmer than she felt. "Then we survive. Together."
Alric studied her for long, measured seconds before nodding once. "Do not mistake this for trust," he warned, dark eyes piercing. "Trust comes later. Survival comes first."
She wanted to argue, to say she had never trusted anyone, not even someone like him, but as she opened her mouth the bond pulsed violently across her chest, sharp, insistent, a reminder that their fates were tied.
She swallowed again. "Fine," she said, her teeth clenched. "Survival first."
The glow of the magical symbols beneath them seemed to thrum louder, vibrating through the floor, through her bones, through every inch of her. Shadows at the edges of the chamber shifted, stretching, crawling toward them. Neither she nor Alric moved closer physically, but the bond would force them together whether they wanted it or not.
High above the walls, unseen eyes observed, calculating, patient. The war had already found them. The bond had marked them, made them prey. And the night was far from over.
Ayra shivered, not entirely from the cold. Her pulse raced. Her chest throbbed, tight with tension, with fear, with something else—something she didn't yet name. Somehow, she knew surviving this night would only be the beginning.
And the bond… the bond would make sure she could never escape Prince Alric.
Every breath she drew, every heartbeat, every subtle movement was shared, mirrored, magnified. She felt him in ways she didn't want to feel him—inside her, outside her, everywhere. Pain, warmth, awareness, tension, all rolled into one relentless force that refused to ease. She stumbled slightly, and Alric caught her wrist instinctively, the simple touch sending another pulse through the bond, another flare of heat crawling low in her stomach.
"You feel that?" he whispered. Not a question, a statement. "It's alive, isn't it?"
"Yes," she whispered back, voice tight. "Too alive. Too much."
He didn't argue. Instead, his hand stayed on hers a moment longer, grounding her in a way she didn't expect, in a way she didn't entirely dislike. The bond pulsed sharply between them, reminding them both that no matter what walls, shadows, or distance they placed between themselves, it would claim every second, every thought, every breath.
Ayra's knees shook. Her chest was tight. Her fingers burned where his touched hers. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to fight, to resist. But the bond—relentless, insistent—refused to let go.
Outside, the shadows shifted again. Footsteps whispered over stone. Predators, maybe more than one. Someone was coming. Someone who understood what the bond could do. Someone who would not hesitate. And the bond hummed between her and Alric, a warning, a tether, a promise, a threat.
Ayra swallowed, pulse racing. The bond was a chain, yes, but it was also fire. Heat, awareness, need, instinct—all tangled together in ways she could barely understand. And it was not leaving her. Not ever.
She glanced at Alric. His expression was unreadable, calm on the surface, but she could feel the tension beneath. Every muscle, every heartbeat, every breath mirrored through the bond. They were two separate bodies, yes, but a single pulse of magic connected them, and neither could ignore the other.
The night stretched long, the glow of the stones bathing them in fragile light. And though neither spoke again, Ayra knew one thing with absolute certainty: surviving was no longer about hiding or running. Surviving meant moving together, feeling together, breathing together—and whatever came next, the bond would drag them both, unwilling but undeniable, into the fire.
And somewhere, beyond the walls, eyes watched, measuring, waiting, knowing. The hunt had begun.
The bond had made them prey. And it had made them inseparable.