Chapter 10: A Pact Unspoken
The night was quiet. Too quiet for Maribel's liking. It was the kind of stillness that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, making you hyper-aware of every little sound—the creak of floorboards beneath the weight of unspoken words, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the rhythmic tap of rain against the tower's stone walls.
She stood at the balcony, staring out at the city, the distant flickering lights barely visible through the storm clouds. The tether between her and Lucien hummed faintly, as if it could sense her restlessness, her need for something more.
Lucien had been distant for the past few days, and though she tried to convince herself that he was merely caught up in his duties, Maribel couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The tether pulsed with uncertainty, almost like a heartbeat fraying at the edges. It wasn't just the Necrotic Assembly breathing down their necks, or Lysandra's cryptic warnings about the growing threat outside. No, it was deeper than that. It was a growing chasm between them that neither seemed willing to acknowledge.
A soft sound broke through her thoughts. A footstep behind her.
Maribel didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Lucien.
"Are you still awake?" His voice was quiet, almost reluctant, like he was unsure whether he should even be speaking to her at this hour.
"I was waiting for you," Maribel replied, not looking back. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—an undertone of frustration that she couldn't quite hide. "I thought we could talk."
Lucien didn't answer immediately. She could feel the tension growing between them, thickening the air around them until it felt almost unbearable. He finally spoke, his words slow and deliberate. "What do you want to talk about, Maribel?"
The way he said her name—it wasn't cold, but it was distant. It stung more than she wanted to admit.
"I want to talk about us," she said, finally turning to face him. "What's happening between us. Because I don't know if we're moving forward or if we're just… stuck."
Lucien's eyes flashed with something—surprise, maybe guilt, maybe a mixture of both. He took a step closer, but he didn't reach for her, didn't offer the reassurance she was hoping for. Instead, he spoke carefully, as though every word were a calculated risk. "I'm not sure what you mean. We're fine, Maribel."
"Fine," she repeated, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. "That's what you keep saying. But I can feel it, Lucien. The space between us is growing. I'm not sure if it's fear or pride or something else entirely, but I don't want to keep pretending everything's fine when it's not."
Lucien closed his eyes for a moment, as if weighing his next words. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. "I'm afraid of what's happening between us, Maribel. The tether… it's changing me. It's changing us."
She took a step forward. "It's not just the tether, Lucien. It's you. We are changing."
His eyes met hers then, and there was something raw in them, something unspoken, something she could feel deep in her chest. "I never thought it would be like this. I never thought I would be like this."
Maribel reached out, her fingers brushing against his. She didn't speak, not because she didn't have words, but because she knew there were no easy answers here. This wasn't just about magic or the Necrotic Assembly or Lysandra's warnings—it was about the tangled, messy emotions they had been hiding from each other for too long.
"I'm not afraid of you, Lucien," she said softly. "I'm afraid of losing you."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and laden with truth. For a long moment, there was nothing but the quiet, the rain, and the distant hum of the magic that pulsed around them.
Lucien's hand finally found hers, and he held it tightly. The tether pulsed brighter, a connection that felt stronger than ever before.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm now, though his gaze was softer. "But we have to face this. Together."
She nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. The words were simple, but the weight of them was immense.
There was still much to face—still so many questions about the tether, about their future, about the forces that threatened them from all sides. But for the first time in days, Maribel felt a flicker of hope.
Together.
Lucien leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "I know what I said before, but I've thought about it a lot. And I think—no, I know—that what we have isn't a weakness. It's something… stronger. And if the Necrotic Assembly or anyone else thinks they can tear us apart, they're going to have to try a lot harder."
Maribel smiled, her heart lifting with every word he spoke. "I like the sound of that."
For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away—the storm, the danger, the looming uncertainty of the future. There was only the two of them, standing together on the balcony, the connection between them as undeniable as the magic they wielded.
Lucien's lips found hers then, and the kiss was everything—hope, longing, and the promise of something more. When they finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, the storm outside seemed to ease, as though it, too, recognized the shift that had occurred between them.
"We're not done yet," Lucien murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "There's still a long road ahead, Maribel. But I'll walk it with you."
"I wouldn't want anyone else by my side," she whispered back.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed it.
The battle ahead was far from over. But together, they could face whatever came next.