To my shadow, Elara—
If you're reading this, then the bond has begun to reveal itself.
You will feel drawn toward someone, fiercely and without reason. You might even resent it at first. That's natural.
But understand this: the bond is not a choice. It is a mirror, reflecting your power and your pain, your strength and your softness, back at you through someone else's eyes and soul.
Our mother called it the Umbra Link — a binding formed between two souls destined to walk into darkness together and still find each other's light.
The more you resist, the more it consumes you.
So don't fight it.
Let the bond show you what you truly are, Elara.
Because you were never meant to stand alone.
—Seris
Entry One: The Pull
The dawn crept slowly over the academy's ancient spires, a pale wash of silver and gray that barely cut through the lingering fog. The air was heavy, thick with dew and secrets. I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders, but it did little to warm me. My silver hair clung to my neck in damp strands, and the dull ache in my muscles was a constant reminder of yesterday's trials—and failures.
Sleep had been elusive the night before. Ever since the brief, accidental touch of Kael's hand in the corridor, I had felt a tremor beneath my skin—as if some long-dormant part of me had been jolted awake. That moment, fleeting and fragile, echoed endlessly in my mind.
It should have been nothing. A mere brush of skin. But I felt the shadows bend toward him—almost as if they recognized something in his fire—and I caught the flicker of shock in his icy blue eyes. It was the same strange hesitation that Professor Dareth had shown me weeks ago, the one that hinted at things unsaid and powers misunderstood.
Kael hadn't looked at me like that before. Not like that.
That pull was confusing. Electric. Terrifying.
Entry Two: The Library Professor
Desperate for answers, I sought refuge in the towering library — the only place I'd ever found truth beneath layers of dust and silence. The old professor, Varren, occupied the highest chamber, surrounded by books bound in shadows and forgotten spells. His pale eyes flickered as I whispered the word I dared not speak aloud in the academy's halls: "Bond."
"And who is it?" His voice was a rasp, like dry leaves stirred by wind.
"Kael." The name barely escaped my lips.
He nodded slowly, as if confirming a long-buried suspicion. "The old magic stirs again."
I swallowed hard. "What does it mean? For me, for him?"
His fingers traced a silver-threaded tome — its surface pulsing faintly under his touch. "It means the gods haven't forgotten you, Elara. It means your true power will awaken only with him. But it also means danger. Bonds like yours are rare. Fragile. And those who fear the power they can't control will seek to sever it at any cost."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. "Sever the bond?"
"Yes. Because such magic defies the system — it's unpredictable, untamable. Most of the academy doesn't even believe bonds are real. They call them myths." He looked me in the eye. "But you are living proof."
Entry Three: The Denial
Kael's silence was deafening for three long days. At classes, on the training grounds, he stayed distant—far beyond reach—his jaw clenched tight and his eyes unreadable.
Every time our gazes met, something sparked beneath my skin, a silent scream in the depths of my shadow. The darkness around me stirred, curling like restless smoke. The light dimmed when I entered rooms. My speed doubled, my reflexes sharpened—as if something ancient inside me had finally started to breathe again.
Lyra and Nia exchanged worried glances. Joren's attempts at comfort were gentle but strained. They didn't understand. Only Kael knew what was changing—and what it meant.
And he was scared.
Entry Four: Joren's Confession
That evening, beneath a silver moon hanging low over the mist-wreathed dormitories, Joren found me standing alone. The trees whispered above, their leaves casting ghostly shadows across my skin.
"You're changing," he said quietly.
"I know." My voice was barely a whisper.
He stepped closer, hesitant, his usual warmth replaced by something rawer. "You like him, don't you?"
I met his deep brown eyes, steady and familiar. "No. I barely know him."
He looked away, jaw tightening. "I saw the way you look at him." His words carried a weight I couldn't ignore.
I reached for his hand. "I still need you, Joren."
His smile was small, sad—like a candle flickering in the dark. "But not the way I wanted."
Entry Five: The Bond Awakens
The training field buzzed with spelllight and whispered challenges as Second and Third Years demonstrated advanced control techniques. Kael stood at the center, cloaked in black, his flame-lit sword held steady in one hand, the shadow-eating shield in the other.
The instructor barked, "Partner up!"
Fate, or something crueler, placed me beside him.
Kael didn't speak. His icy eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mix of caution and something deeper — a reluctant acknowledgment.
As we moved through the synchronized strikes and defenses, something impossible happened.
The very sky above us seemed to ripple like a disturbed pond. His fire curled into my shadow — not in opposition, but in an intricate, dangerous dance.
The wind whipped around us, alive and wild, drawn to our tangled magic.
My veins burned; shadows surged beneath my skin like liquid stars. The air tasted electric.
Kael staggered back, panting as if he'd glimpsed a ghost.
"You felt that," I whispered, breathless.
He shook his head, trembling. "We can't. It's too dangerous."
"What if we're meant to be dangerous?" I challenged.
He stared at me as if I'd offered him something he'd vowed never to want.
"I think I'd let you," he said, voice low and rough.
Then he stepped back, leaving the silence thick between us. But something unspoken pulsed, stronger than ever before.
Entry Six: Late Night Revelations
That night, in the dim archive wing, Kael found me alone — the shadows pooling like a living entity around us.
His presence carried heat, a warmth that made the air shimmer and my lungs tighten.
He said nothing at first, just watched as I carefully examined a fragile scroll, my fingers tracing the faded runes.
Finally, his voice broke the silence. "I saw it."
"The bond?" I asked softly.
He nodded, eyes locked on mine. "When you looked at me, it was like everything I am answered you."
"And you hate it," I said, reading the war inside him.
He stepped closer, hesitant. "I don't know what to do with this."
"Then don't do anything. Just be here."
His hand brushed my wrist — cautious, electric.
"I can't stay away anymore," he whispered.
"Then don't."
Entry Seven: Sparks and Shadows
In the quiet that followed, the bond pulsed between us — soft at first, then growing stronger, like the first beat of a distant drum.
My shadows reached out, not to smother but to embrace his fire like vines welcoming sunlight.
His flames responded — not with destruction, but with warmth.
We stood there, joined by something older and deeper than either of us could fully grasp: raw, thrumming power, heart to heart, magic to magic.
When Kael finally turned away, I saw it in his eyes: fear.
Not of me.
But of how much he already belonged to me.