The flames from last night's fire were long dead.
Sid sat on the same rock as before, legs pulled in, hands wrapped loosely around his knees. Above him stretched the vast early sky, the kind that held no answers, only more questions.
He had barely slept.
The Companion Pact—it echoed louder the more he thought about it. Its allure, its mystery, the idea of a powerful partner that fought beside you—it stirred something deep in him. But the deeper he thought, the more the edges blurred.
His head tilted slightly.
If it's that powerful… why don't all strong cultivators seek one? Why isn't everyone trying to get as many companions as their soul can hold?
Footsteps crunched faintly behind him.
Silver.
He didn't speak immediately, just stopped a few paces behind and looked at the same horizon Sid did.
"You're thinking about it too hard," Silver finally said.
Sid turned slightly, frowning. "There's more to it, isn't there?"
Silver's eyes narrowed—not cold, not distant. Just clear.
"The pact is more than just being a companion," he said. "You form one, and your lives are no longer yours alone."
"From that moment forward—your soul, your strength, your fate… they become shared."
Sid slowly sat straighter.
"If you die," Silver continued, "they die."
"And if your companion dies…" Silver paused. "Best case, you suffer a permanent soul damage. Worst case—you die with them."
Sid's chest tightened slightly.
"That's why most cultivators," Silver said, "never form one."
"They see the cost. The risk. The burden."
He paced slowly around the clearing, voice steady.
"Companions don't heal like humans. They can only fully recover inside the soul of their master. And that means, for however long they need to heal… your soul becomes their sanctuary."
Sid blinked. "That sounds—draining."
"It is," Silver replied. "More than you think."
"Every step you take after the pact, every ounce of energy you cultivate—it's no longer just for you."
"The energy you gather, the pills you consume, the cores you refine—your growth slows. Because it gets split."
"One for you. One for them. Or more, depending how many you have."
He stopped and looked directly at Sid now.
"You become a house that feeds everyone under its roof. And the bigger the roof, the more resources it eats."
"So ask yourself this—can you afford it?"
Sid stayed quiet, mind churning. The idea of sharing everything... sounded heavy. But not wrong.
"That's also why," Silver said slowly, "we always say that forming a Pact is the easiest part."
"Keeping one alive?"
"That's the test."
Sid looked down at his hands again, this time not with awe—but with contemplation.
"So it's not just about getting stronger."
"No," Silver said. "It's about being responsible for more than yourself."
The silence stretched a bit longer before Silver added, voice quieter now:
"Make no mistake. The right companion can elevate you far beyond your limits."
"But the wrong one... the reckless decision…"
"...could cost you your life."
Sid slowly nodded.
"So think, Sid. Think thoroughly."
"Or you'll end up carrying a weight that crushes you before it lifts you."
The wind stirred lightly between them—cool, clear, and sharp.
Sid closed his eyes for a moment.
There was no turning back. The path ahead only got heavier.
But he would carry it — when the time was right.
Silver turned to leave, the conversation settled. But before he could walk too far, Sid called out behind him.
"Uncle…"
Silver paused.
"How did you meet them?" Sid asked. "Avi, Shiva… you."
"How did He find you all?"
The question lingered in the air like smoke.
Silver didn't turn around immediately.
From the other side of the camp, Avi looked up as well, her scarlet eyes reflecting the sky's pale light.
For a moment, neither of them answered.
Then slowly, they exchanged a look — one that held memory, weight, and a faint trace of warmth.
And both smiled.
Not lightly.
But meaningfully.