Chapter 6: Skeletons in the Study (Literally)
Lucien's study had rules.
Rules like:
No loud noises.
No drinks near the summoning circle.
No necro-snooping.
And absolutely, positively, no unauthorized reanimation attempts after midnight.
Naturally, Maribel broke three of those rules before breakfast.
"I said don't touch anything," Lucien hissed as she stepped back from a dusty shelf, a golden jawbone clattering to the floor.
"I didn't touch it!" she protested, catching it mid-roll. "It fell. Possibly out of fear."
"That's the Jaw of Grimwald the Smiter. It once bit through steel armor."
She eyed it warily. "Didn't know jaws could hold grudges."
"They can," he muttered, plucking it from her hands and placing it reverently back on the shelf. "Especially when improperly alphabetized."
Maribel paused, scanning the books around them. "Wait—do you organize your skulls?"
"Of course," Lucien said, offended. "Alphabetically. And by personality type."
"You need a hobby."
"This is my hobby."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. Bone-and-Brood, what exactly are we looking for again?"
Lucien exhaled, summoning a spectral notebook that floated beside him like a glowing duckling. "According to Breezelynn's latest memo—which was delivered via singing raven—our soul tether has officially entered a state of 'volatile resonance.'"
"That sounds made up."
"Most magical terminology is," he agreed. "But in this case, it means the bond is growing... unstable."
Maribel glanced down at the golden thread of light still linking them. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Too aware.
"So what, we need to reboot it?"
"We need to realign it. And for that, we require a Stabilizing Anchor." He gestured toward a locked cabinet. "There's an ancient text that lists potential anchors for forbidden soul bonds."
She grinned. "You had me at 'forbidden.'"
He muttered the unlock spell, and the cabinet creaked open—revealing a thick, velvet-bound tome glowing ominously.
The Codex of Complicated Soul Crap, Volume II.
Maribel burst out laughing. "Wait, that's the actual title?"
"I translated it from Old Hexic," Lucien said with a straight face. "The original name was thirty-seven syllables long and insulted your grandmother."
She flipped it open. "Let's see. Anchor options... shared sacrifice, ancient relic, true name exchange, mutual first kiss—"
She paused.
Lucien glanced up sharply. "What?"
She turned the book around. "'Option 5: Initiate emotional convergence via sincere, consensual kiss, preferably under moonlight or extreme duress.'"
They stared at each other.
Then at the tether.
Then back at each other.
"Nope," Lucien said quickly. "Next option."
"Oh, come on, it's science!"
"It's emotional entanglement magic!"
"Tomato, tomahto," she said, grinning. "Besides, it's not like it means anything. Just a little magical CPR."
Lucien looked alarmed. "People don't CPR with their faces!"
"People in love stories do," she said teasingly, then paused. "Not that this is one."
"Obviously not."
"Obviously."
They stood in awkward silence.
Then—
WHUMP.
The study shook.
Books tumbled. Skulls yelped. Something howled from deep below.
Lucien stiffened. "What was that?"
Maribel's eyes widened. "Is the castle under siege?"
"No," Lucien said grimly. "Worse."
He raced to the window and flung it open.
Across the grounds, through the swirling mist, a carriage drawn by skeletal swans pulled up to the gates. It bore a massive sigil etched in crimson: The Crimson Order of Ethical Liches.
Maribel squinted. "Are those… lich auditors?"
"Yes," Lucien said with horror. "And that one in front—"
A tall figure stepped from the carriage. Regal. Glowing. Surrounded by an entourage of enchanted quills.
"Isadora Nightsorrow," he breathed. "My ex."
Maribel's jaw dropped. "Wait. You dated another lich?"
"She's not just another lich," he groaned. "She's a senior Lich Compliance Enforcer. She audits unauthorized soul bonds—and she hates mess."
They watched as Isadora strode toward the castle like a hurricane made of bureaucracy and contempt.
"Well," Maribel said, backing away. "I'm just gonna go hide under a table."
"You can't," Lucien said. "You're part of the bond."
"Oh great," she muttered. "This day just went from awkward first kiss talk to ex-girlfriend undead audit showdown."
"I swear, if she finds the tether in its current state, she'll have me stripped of my grimoire."
"And I'll get turned into a sentient bookmark or something!"
Lucien turned to her, eyes wide. "There's only one solution."
"Run?"
He grabbed her shoulders. "We anchor the bond. Now."
She blinked. "You mean—?"
"Yes. The kiss."
They stared.
The room dimmed.
The tether shimmered between them, glowing gold-red-pink in indecisive anticipation.
Maribel bit her lip. "You know… for magical stability purposes."
Lucien sighed. "Strictly professional."
They leaned in—
A heartbeat.
A breath.
A—
BANG.
The study doors burst open.
"LUCIEN GRIMSPIRE," Isadora shouted. "EXPLAIN THIS ABSURDLY ILLEGAL SOUL ENTANGLEMENT IMMEDIATELY."
Lucien and Maribel sprang apart.
The tether crackled in protest.
And somewhere, probably in another dimension, Future Evil Maribel cackled with malicious glee.