First-Person: Nyra
Morning comes slow. Pale light drips through the burned treetops, soft and cold against the ruin we've made.
Kael hasn't slept. He sits near the edge of what used to be the ridge, knife in hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. The glow of his mark has faded, but I can still feel it hum beneath my skin — a quiet, steady reminder that something inside me has changed.
I rise, brushing ash from my arms. "You've been staring at the same patch of earth for an hour."
He doesn't glance up. "Keeps me from staring at you instead."
The words land somewhere between a tease and a warning.
I cross my arms. "You're not subtle."
He finally looks at me, and there's no trace of humor. "Neither are you."
The space between us feels charged again, that same pulse of energy tugging at the thread that ties us. It draws me forward before I even think. I stop only when I can see the faint shimmer of the bond in the air, like heat between us.
"Don't," he says quietly.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not sure what I'll do if you touch me again."
Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. He's not angry — he's afraid. Of me, or himself, I can't tell.
"You think this thing between us can be controlled?" I ask.
He exhales slowly. "It has to be."
The mark on my ribs flares at his words, a defiant spark. "And if it can't?"
He doesn't answer. The silence stretches until I feel the first tremor in the ground.
At first I think it's the bond reacting, but then the tremor grows. Stones roll down the slope. The air sharpens with the metallic tang of magic.
Kael's head snaps up. "They found us."
"Who?"
"The Wraithbound."
The name alone chills me. Hunters of the marked. Killers who feed on stolen power.
He grabs his bow and shoves a small blade into my hand. "Stay close. Don't use the mark unless you have no choice."
I nod, but the mark pulses again, wild and eager beneath my skin. The thread between us flickers bright. Kael curses under his breath. "It's reacting to them. They must be close."
A shadow moves through the trees — then another. Dark armor. Faces hidden. The scent of burning iron.
Kael moves first, fast and silent. Arrows whistle through the air, finding their targets with brutal precision. I follow, magic sparking at my fingertips despite his warning. The power feels alive, hungry.
One of the Wraithbound catches my arm. His skin burns cold where he touches me. I twist free and let the power surge. Light flashes crimson, throwing him back.
The bond flares white-hot. Kael spins toward me, eyes wide. "Nyra, stop!"
But I can't. It's too strong now, too deep. The mark on his chest glows in answer, his power latching onto mine until the world explodes in red light.
When it fades, the valley is silent again. Smoke curls in the air. The Wraithbound are gone — or ashes.
Kael stares at me, breathing hard. "You could have died."
"So could you," I shoot back.
He steps closer, eyes burning. "You don't understand. If you lose control again, you'll take me with you."
I feel the bond tug between us, alive and pulsing. "Then teach me to control it."
For a moment, neither of us moves. The air is thick with heat and the echo of violence. Then he nods once, slow and deliberate.
"Tomorrow," he says. "We start at dawn."
I look at him, then at the faint red line still glowing between our marks. "And if control isn't possible?"
His voice drops to a whisper. "Then we burn together."