Silence fell like a corpse.
Not peace—never peace—but a suffocating, unnatural stillness that pressed against the ears after the Devourer had retreated. The Chamber of Whispers no longer trembled. It sagged, wounded, its ancient bones cracked and bleeding dust.
Kaelan remained where he stood.
His sword was still buried in the heart of the Serpent's Veil.
The emerald vortex had collapsed inward, sealed upon itself like a stitched wound—but the stone around the impact point was blackened, scorched, alive with something pulsing faintly beneath the surface.
Elara dropped to her knees.
The moment her strength gave out, Kaelan felt it.
Pain—sharp, sudden—lanced through his chest, stealing his breath.
He gasped and staggered, one hand flying to his ribs.
"What—" he choked.
Elara looked up at him, eyes wide, horror dawning.
"You felt that," she whispered.
Kaelan swallowed hard. His heart hammered too fast, too uneven. "I shouldn't have."
Gareth reached them, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. His gaze flicked between Elara's trembling form and Kaelan's ashen face.
"The bond," he said quietly. "It's already active."
Elara pushed herself up despite Gareth's attempt to steady her. Her legs shook violently.
"I didn't mean to—" she started, then gasped as pain twisted through her side again.
Kaelan cried out this time.
The sensation mirrored hers perfectly—same location, same intensity. It was like his body had forgotten where he ended.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her arms.
"Don't apologize," he said harshly. "Never apologize for surviving."
Their foreheads touched.
Too close, a part of him warned.
He ignored it.
Gareth knelt beside them, examining Elara more closely now. As he gently brushed back her sleeve, his breath caught.
There—etched faintly into her skin—was a mark.
A spiral of black-green veins, delicate and cruel, blooming just beneath the surface of her wrist. It pulsed once… twice… then faded to a ghostly scar.
Elara followed his gaze.
"What is that?" she whispered.
Kaelan's fingers closed around her wrist instinctively, possessively. The moment he touched it, the same mark flared to life on his skin, mirrored along his forearm.
Elara gasped.
"You have it too."
Gareth's voice was grave. "A possession mark."
The word fell like a blade.
"No," Kaelan snapped. "I sealed the Veil. I didn't let it through."
"You didn't," Gareth agreed. "But sealing something ancient doesn't mean it leaves untouched."
Elara's breathing quickened. "You said the bond would bind us. You didn't say it would let that—"
"I didn't know," Gareth admitted quietly. "The Devourer adapts. It always has."
Kaelan pulled Elara against his chest, her head fitting beneath his chin like it belonged there. The motion was instinctive. Feral.
"She's not a vessel," he said lowly. "She's not its doorway."
"No," Gareth said. "She's its listener."
Elara stiffened.
"What?"
Before Gareth could explain, the chamber whispered.
Not aloud.
Inside her.
Little Watcher…
Elara froze.
The voice was not loud. It didn't need to be. It slithered through her thoughts like silk dragged across bone—ancient, patient, intimate.
You shine where the wound is deepest.
Her fingers clenched in Kaelan's coat.
"Kaelan," she whispered. "It's—"
Pain detonated behind her eyes.
She screamed.
Kaelan felt it tear through him—the same agony, the same burning pressure behind the eyes, the same nausea twisting the gut. He roared, clutching her tighter, as if he could crush the voice out of her.
"Get out of her," he snarled to nothing.
The Devourer laughed.
You already let me in.
Elara's vision fractured.
She saw things that weren't hers—worlds collapsing inward, stars dimming as if swallowed, lives unraveling thread by thread. She saw a lone figure standing where she stood now, centuries ago, screaming as the same bond burned into flesh.
I remember you, the Devourer crooned. You always listen.
"No," Elara sobbed. "I won't."
You will, it replied gently. Because you care.
Kaelan slammed his forehead to hers, forcing her eyes back to him.
"Elara," he said fiercely. "Stay with me. Look at me."
She did.
His eyes were silvered now, bright with something wild and terrifying. Not corruption—connection.
"I'm here," he said. "You're not alone in your head anymore."
That should have frightened her.
Instead, it anchored her.
The voice recoiled, withdrawing like a tide pulled back by force rather than choice.
Soon, it whispered before fading. We will dream together.
The silence returned—but it was different now.
Elara sagged into Kaelan's arms, shaking.
Gareth exhaled slowly. "It marked you both," he said. "The bond doesn't just share pain. It shares access."
Kaelan closed his eyes briefly.
"When she dreams," he said, already knowing. "I'll see it."
"And when you bleed," Gareth added softly, "she'll feel it."
Elara looked up at him, fear and something darker entwined. "I didn't mean to trap you."
Kaelan cupped her face, his thumb brushing away the tear she hadn't realized fell.
"You didn't trap me," he said. "You claimed me."
The words settled between them—heavy, irreversible.
Above them, the Serpent's Veil pulsed once… as if breathing.
And somewhere beyond the barrier, something ancient smiled.
Night did not arrive gently.
It crept into Havenwood like a sickness, dimming the lanterns, dulling the wards, pressing against the walls as if listening. The Chamber of Whispers had been sealed again, but the air throughout the sanctuary still carried the faint sting of emerald rot.
Elara could feel it in her veins.
She lay on the narrow bed in the western tower, staring at the stone ceiling, afraid to close her eyes. Every time she blinked too long, shadows moved where they shouldn't.
Across the room, Kaelan sat on the floor.
He hadn't moved since Gareth left.
His sword rested across his knees, bare and gleaming, as if the night itself were a threat that needed reminding. He watched the door. The windows. The shadows between breaths.
He watched her.
"You can sleep," Elara murmured softly. "I'm not going anywhere."
His jaw tightened.
"That's what frightens me."
She turned her head, studying him. The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked carved from vigilance—wound tight, barely breathing.
"You haven't blinked in minutes," she said.
"I will," he replied. "Eventually."
She hesitated. "Kaelan… you don't have to guard me like this."
He looked at her then.
Really looked.
The silver in his eyes flared faintly, the bond stirring between them like a living thing.
"I do," he said quietly. "Because whatever marked you will try again. And if it does—"
His fingers curled into the leather grip of his sword.
"—it won't get a second chance."
A shiver slid down her spine. Not fear.
Something darker.
"You can't fight dreams," she whispered.
His voice dropped. "Then I'll bleed in them."
The bond responded instantly.
Pain bloomed behind Elara's ribs—sharp, breathless. She gasped, clutching her chest.
Kaelan hissed, mirroring the movement, hand slamming against the same spot on his body.
They froze.
Slowly, he rose and crossed the room in three long strides, kneeling beside her bed.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, raw.
She shook her head, breath shaky. "You thought about it. About bleeding."
His hand hovered inches from her skin, like he was afraid to touch her and afraid not to.
"I can't control it," he admitted. "Not yet."
She reached for him.
The moment her fingers brushed his wrist, warmth flooded the bond—too much, too fast. Her pulse synced with his. His breath matched hers.
Kaelan sucked in a sharp breath and closed his hand over hers, gripping too tightly.
"Elara," he warned.
She didn't pull away.
"I feel safer when you're close," she said honestly. "Even if it's… too much."
Something snapped behind his eyes.
He climbed onto the bed in one controlled movement, caging her in without touching—arms braced on either side of her head, body hovering just above hers.
Possessive. Controlled. Barely.
"If I lie beside you," he said, voice low and rough, "I won't sleep."
Her lips parted. "Neither will I."
That decided it.
He lay down, pulling her against his chest, one arm locked firmly around her waist. It wasn't gentle. It was anchoring—like he was afraid the dark might steal her if he loosened his grip.
She fit there frighteningly well.
The bond hummed.
Minutes passed. Then breaths slowed. Muscles softened—just enough.
And then Elara dreamed.
She stood in a field of ash beneath a dying sky.
Stars blinked out one by one above her, swallowed by something vast and unseen. She felt no fear—only a terrible familiarity.
You recognize this, the Devourer whispered, its voice clearer here, closer.
She turned.
Kaelan stood across from her, blood running down his temples, eyes silver and empty.
"No," she whispered. "This isn't real."
It will be, the Devourer replied calmly. Because he will choose you every time.
The ground split open.
Kaelan screamed.
Elara bolted upright with a cry—
—and Kaelan woke with her, roaring her name.
Pain tore through both of them simultaneously. He clutched his head. She grabbed her ribs. The bond flared violently, feeding on panic.
"Elara—look at me!" he barked.
She did.
The dream bled into reality for a heartbeat too long.
His hands shook as he cradled her face, forcing her eyes to lock with his.
"What did it show you?" he demanded.
She hesitated.
The Devourer's voice lingered, quieter now.
Tell him. He deserves the truth.
"It showed me you breaking," she whispered. "Because of me."
Kaelan went still.
"That wasn't a lie," the Devourer murmured softly inside her. That was love.
Kaelan pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.
"If that thing speaks to you again," he said, voice deadly calm, "you tell me. Every word. Every thought."
She nodded.
"And if it shows you me bleeding," he continued, grip tightening,
His lips brushed her temple, fierce and reverent.
"—I chose it. I will always choose you."
The bond settled—not quiet, but watchful.
Outside, Havenwood slept uneasily.
And far beyond the barrier, something ancient listened… pleased that the truth hurt more than any lie ever could.