The Hollow King was gone, but the land still trembled with his memory.
Selene stood at the edge of the battlefield where roses had consumed a god. Their petals were pale now, bloodless and wilting, a reflection of the exhaustion etched into her bones. The magic had drained her. Callan's life had flickered like a dying star — and only the bond had pulled him back from the edge.
He slept now, breathing shallow but steady, beneath the twisted arch of the ruined fort. The village had begun to rebuild. And yet, Selene felt no peace.
She could still hear the Hollow King's words.
"This isn't the first time."
Memories clawed at the edge of her mind — dreams not her own, echoes of lives unlived and long buried. She hadn't told Callan. Not yet.
But the past had stirred.
And it wasn't done with them.
That night, under a sky riddled with moons and fireflies, Selene walked into the heart of the wildwood.
The thorns parted for her now, recognizing her as their queen.
She followed the path the roses whispered of, where the wind hummed with forgotten names. Trees bent toward her. Shadows bowed.
The Grove of Origins awaited.
It was not marked on any map. It couldn't be reached by ordinary paths. Only those bound in blood and magic could find it — and only when the bond awakened fully.
When Selene stepped into the clearing, her breath caught.
It was a circle of ancient trees, each one taller than towers, their trunks carved with sigils older than language. A pool sat at the center — not water, but memory made liquid. It rippled when she approached.
And when she looked in—
She saw herself.
But not her.
Another version. A woman in armor made of thorns, standing beside Callan — his eyes lined with silver, a crown of starlight on his brow.
Another memory: Selene cloaked in shadow, dagger in hand, facing Callan on a battlefield — enemies, once lovers.
Another still: Two souls meeting in a temple, drawn to each other without words, tears in their eyes before they even spoke.
Lifetime after lifetime. Them. Always them. Torn apart. Reunited. Fighting fate and losing.
A voice drifted on the wind.
"The bond is endless, but not eternal."
Selene turned.
A woman stood at the edge of the pool — translucent, shimmering with starlight and rose petals. Her eyes were hauntingly familiar.
"Who are you?" Selene whispered.
"I was you. Once."
Selene's breath caught.
"I forged the bond in the beginning," the ghost-woman said. "To hold the world together. To keep love from breaking under the weight of war."
"But it broke anyway."
"It always breaks. The Hollow King was the first to fear it. To hate it. He cursed it. Ensured it would never last."
"Why?"
"Because he once loved. And lost. He couldn't bear to see others find what he could not."
Selene looked down. "And now?"
"The curse is broken, for now. But the bond must be sealed."
"Sealed?"
"With a vow," said the spirit. "Willing. True. Or it will fade — again. The magic will wither. And so will your love."
Selene's voice trembled. "A vow like what?"
"Bind your souls. Fully. With thorn and starlight."
The ghost raised a hand — and the pool surged upward, forming a seed of light. It drifted to Selene's palm, pulsing.
"When the time is right, plant this," the spirit whispered. "Let it bloom between you."
Selene stared at it. "What happens if we don't?"
"The curse will return. And next time… love may not be strong enough."
And then the grove faded.
Callan woke to find her sitting beside him, the seed cradled in her hands.
He blinked slowly. "Where were you?"
"Walking," she said. "Thinking."
He sat up, wincing. "You found something."
She nodded. "I found… truths. About us."
His brow furrowed. "Tell me."
She took his hand. "We've done this before. Not once. Many times."
"I know," he said quietly.
"You knew?"
"I didn't remember clearly. Just… flashes. Dreams that felt too real."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid."
Selene blinked. "Of what?"
"That you'd leave. That if you knew how many times we'd failed, you'd stop trying."
She held up the seed. "Then let's stop failing."
Callan's gaze flicked to it, awe dawning in his eyes. "Is that—?"
"The heart of the bond."
He swallowed hard. "We plant it together?"
"We do more than that. We make a vow. A real one. Not just magic. Us. Our choice."
He touched the seed reverently. "When?"
Selene smiled. "Now."
They returned to the clearing where they first kissed — where the bond had first stirred awake.
Callan knelt and dug into the earth. Selene dropped the seed in. As the soil closed over it, a pulse of light spread outward in rings. The thorns rustled. Flowers bloomed in a spiral.
"Speak," said a voice — not ghostly, but living. The land itself.
Callan stood and took her hands. "I vow myself to you," he said, voice rough. "Not because fate says so. But because you are the choice I make, in this life and every one before."
Selene's eyes shimmered. "I vow to rise with you. To fall, if I must. To fight beside you, to love you, even when the stars forget our names."
The wind howled.
The earth trembled.
And the seed bloomed.
From the soil, a single rose rose — golden, radiant, pulsing with magic so pure it made the sky weep.
It sealed their vow.
And the curse shattered fully.
But magic like that never goes unnoticed.
Far beyond Kelthas, across a sea of fire, a queen of crows sat on a throne of bone. She felt the pulse — and smiled.
"The bond awakens."
A raven croaked on her shoulder.
"Summon the others," she said. "The Circle of Dust won't let it bloom unchallenged."
Days passed. The village healed. Selene and Callan trained daily — not just their magic, but their minds. Together, they worked to restore the land the Hollow King had tainted.
The roses had become wilder — more responsive. They bloomed where Selene walked, yes, but they also danced to her emotions, responded to Callan's touch, shielded the young and the old.
And the villagers had changed, too.
They no longer looked at Selene with fear.
They looked with awe.
Mara taught her to brew protective tinctures. Elric begrudgingly gifted her his father's sword. The blacksmith reforged armor laced with vines.
They were preparing.
Because they knew — this wasn't the end.
It was the beginning.
One morning, as mist coiled through the fields, a figure appeared.
She wore a cloak of raven feathers, her eyes lined with coal and ash. Her presence stilled the air.
Selene and Callan met her at the gates.
"I am Elandra," the woman said. "First of the Circle. I have come to make you an offer."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "We're not interested."
"You should be," Elandra said calmly. "Because if you refuse, the Circle will come with fire."
Callan stepped forward. "What do you want?"
"The bond. Its power. Its future. We want you to surrender it."
Selene scoffed. "Never."
Elandra sighed. "Pity. I hoped this version of you would be wiser."
She turned and vanished in a flutter of feathers.
That night, Callan paced.
"She's testing us," he muttered. "Trying to scare us into submission."
Selene leaned against the doorway. "It won't work."
He looked at her. "You sure?"
"Yes. We've beaten fate. We can beat a circle of dusty relics."
He smiled faintly. "You're terrifying, you know that?"
She walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck. "Only when I need to be."
Their lips met — not frantic this time, but slow, deep, like sinking into stars. The kiss tasted of promises. Of choices. Of the lives they hadn't yet lived together.
And the bond pulsed again — stronger now, golden threads weaving in the air around them.
Selene pulled back. "Whatever comes, we face it as one."
Callan nodded. "Always."
But far off, the sky darkened.
And war gathered like a storm.