The palace did not relax after the intruder vanished.
Neither did I.
The moment the shadows dissolved, the artifact flared once—sharp, warning—and then sank into a low, unsettled thrum beneath my skin. Not calm. Not safe. Waiting.
Malrik was already moving.
"Inside. Now."
He didn't raise his voice, but the command carried weight. The kind that bent corridors to obedience. I followed without hesitation, my pulse still racing, my thoughts scrambling to keep up with the speed of my body.
We crossed three halls in silence. The palace sealed itself behind us—gates grinding shut, wards knitting like scars closing. I could feel every mechanism as if it were part of my own anatomy. The bond hadn't faded. If anything, it had tightened, alert and sharp, as though it had learned something new during the fight and refused to forget it.
Only when we reached the inner strategy chamber did Malrik stop.
He turned to me so suddenly that I nearly collided with his chest.
"You reacted before I spoke," he said.
I blinked. "You told me to align."
"No." His gaze was intense, searching. "I told you to trust the bond. What you did after that was instinct."
My fingers curled unconsciously. He was right. I hadn't thought. I'd known. The hunter's movement, the angle of attack, the moment to step aside—it had arrived in my mind fully formed.
That terrified me.
"That wasn't training," I said quietly. "That was… something else."
Malrik exhaled slowly. Not frustration. Calculation. "The artifact accelerates adaptation under threat. It doesn't wait for permission."
"So it's changing me."
"Yes." He didn't soften it. "And faster than expected."
The room pulsed faintly, reacting to the tension between us. Ancient runes along the walls glowed, then dimmed, as if listening.
I crossed my arms, grounding myself. "The intruder knew how to provoke it. They weren't just attacking. They were… testing."
Malrik's jaw tightened. "Which means they've studied the bond. Or they've encountered it before."
A chill slid down my spine. "That's not possible."
"It shouldn't be," he agreed. "Yet here we are."
He moved toward the central table, sweeping his hand across its surface. A projection bloomed—layers of the palace, the city, and beyond it, the fractured territories under demon rule. Points of light flared where wards had been disturbed.
"They didn't come alone," he said. "They came first."
I stared at the map. "A scout."
"A message," he corrected. "They wanted us to respond. And we did."
The artifact stirred again, restless. I pressed my palm against my ribs, trying to steady it.
"Then they know we're synchronized now," I said.
"Yes."
"And they'll adjust."
"Yes."
The word landed heavier the second time.
Silence stretched, dense and loaded. I became painfully aware of how close he stood, of how the bond hummed between us, neither intimate nor distant—something sharper, more dangerous. A weapon learning its balance.
"There's something else," I said finally.
Malrik's eyes flicked to mine. "Say it."
"The intruder hesitated when I moved," I continued. "Not because of you. Because of me."
His expression didn't change, but the bond reacted—an unmistakable spike of attention.
"They recognized the artifact's response," I said. "Not just its power. Its pattern."
Malrik was silent for a long moment.
Then, slowly, "That pattern was last recorded during the Covenant Wars."
My stomach dropped. "Those were centuries ago."
"Yes."
"So how—"
"They either inherited knowledge they should not possess," he said, voice darkening, "or someone who fought in those wars is no longer as dead as history claims."
The room felt suddenly too small.
A sharp chime cut through the tension. One of the palace sentinels—an echo-spirit bound to the inner keep—materialized at the edge of the chamber, its form flickering urgently.
"Speak," Malrik ordered.
"The outer wards detected residual tracking magic," the sentinel said. "Not anchored to location. Anchored to resonance."
My breath caught. "Resonance like—"
"Like the bond," Malrik finished.
The sentinel bowed and vanished.
I laughed once, short and humorless. "So even when they retreat, they're still following us."
"They're following you," he corrected.
The distinction mattered. I hated that I understood why.
My chest tightened. "Then I'm a liability."
"No." The word was immediate, absolute. "You're the axis."
I looked at him sharply.
"They will come again," he continued. "Stronger. Smarter. Not to breach the palace, but to separate us."
A cold understanding settled in. "Because the bond only works if we're aligned."
"Yes."
"And if they disrupt that—"
"They don't need to kill you," Malrik said. "They only need you to doubt."
The artifact pulsed uneasily, as if it recognized the truth in his words.
I straightened. "Then we don't give them the chance."
Something unreadable passed through his eyes. Approval, perhaps. Or concern.
"There is one option," he said slowly. "Risky. Accelerated."
I didn't like that pause.
"What kind of option?"
"Full convergence training," he said. "Not gradual. Not controlled. A forced synchronization."
My pulse spiked. "You said the artifact doesn't wait for permission."
"It doesn't," he agreed. "Which is why this may push you beyond what's comfortable."
"That's not an answer."
His gaze held mine, unflinching. "It could bind our responses permanently. Thought to motion. Instinct to instinct."
"And the downside?"
"If it fails," he said quietly, "the bond destabilizes. You lose control. Or I do."
Or both.
The room seemed to tilt.
"And you're considering this," I said.
"Yes."
I swallowed. "Because of me."
"Because of us," he corrected again.
The artifact surged at that word, sharp and insistent, like it was leaning forward, eager.
Footsteps echoed suddenly beyond the chamber doors. Fast. Urgent. Too fast.
Malrik turned just as the doors burst open.
Another sentinel staggered in, form fractured, voice distorted. "My king—breach detected—not the walls—the inner lattice—someone is forcing entry through—"
The lights dimmed violently.
The bond screamed.
Malrik grabbed my wrist. "They're already inside."
"What?" I demanded. "That's impossible."
"Not if they're using you as the anchor," he said, pulling me toward the exit. "Which means they're closer than I thought."
The floor shuddered beneath us. Power surged. Somewhere deep within the palace, something ancient roared awake.
I tightened my grip on him. "Malrik—tell me the truth."
He looked at me, expression hard, decisive, and said—
"If they complete the breach, the first thing they'll try to sever is—"