Riven stumbled through the trees, most of his weight sagging against Maelis. Every step hurt. Not sharply—worse. Dull, deep, like his bones were arguing with each other about whether they still wanted to work.
The pain wasn't gone. It was waiting.
Maelis dragged him forward anyway, breath coming out fast and uneven. Her hair stuck to her face with sweat—hers or his, he honestly didn't know.
"You know," she panted, "you're insanely heavy for someone who just cheated death."
He tried to laugh. It came out as a rasp.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't know dying came with a weight limit."
She snorted despite herself, then immediately hissed as her footing slipped. "You're impossible. People almost die and get humble. You? Sarcasm."
He coughed, sharp and ugly. Something warm touched his lips. Blood. Not a lot, but enough. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and tasted iron.
"Keep moving," he said quietly. "They're still behind us."
Her grip tightened. Too tight. Fear does that—it turns hands into clamps.
"You're sure?" she asked, eyes flicking to the dark between the trees.
"I wouldn't joke about that," he said. Then, after a beat, "Much."
She shot him a look. "You're sick."
"Alive," he corrected.
They made it another dozen steps before someone stepped out from the trees.
Big. Solid. Calm in a way that made Riven's skin prickle.
He stopped without meaning to. His body recognized danger faster than his brain.
"Oh come on," he muttered. "You again?"
Maelis froze. He felt it immediately—the change in her posture, the way her arm shifted in front of him without thinking. Protective. Possessive. Raw.
The system chimed softly in the back of his head.
[Affinity Ledger: Jealousy Detected — Maelis Thorn]
He almost laughed. Almost.
The man didn't attack. Just watched them. Measuring.
Maelis leaned closer to Riven, voice low and shaking. "I don't want anyone touching you."
It wasn't brave. It wasn't heroic. It was desperate.
And that made it real.
Riven exhaled slowly. "Maelis… breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Then do it slower."
She didn't answer, but her grip eased just a fraction.
The man finally spoke. Calm. Controlled. The kind of voice that assumed obedience.
"You don't belong here."
Riven lifted his head. Everything hurt, but his spine straightened anyway. Stubborn reflex.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "That's been the theme today."
The man took one step closer.
Maelis shifted fully in front of Riven now, back to him, shoulders squared. He felt her shaking—not with fear alone, but anger.
Another pulse from the Ledger.
[Affinity Ledger: Protective Response — Maelis Thorn]
Riven closed his eyes for half a second. This thing was feeding on moments like this. On need. On fear. On attachment that formed too fast and too deep.
"Don't," Maelis warned the man. Her voice cracked, but she didn't move. "Just don't."
The man studied her. Then Riven. Something flickered—recognition, maybe. Or irritation.
"This forest kills the weak," he said.
Riven snorted weakly. "Then it's doing a terrible job."
Maelis elbowed him lightly. "Not now."
"Always now," he murmured.
A rustle sounded nearby. Another presence. Closer.
Maelis swore under her breath. "You are going to be the death of me."
"You're doing great so far," Riven said. "Still alive. Still yelling at me."
She laughed once—short, sharp, almost hysterical—then shoved him forward a step. "Stand. If you fall, I'm dragging you again."
The Ledger hummed.
[Affinity Ledger: Bond Intensifying — Survival / Dependency]
Riven felt it then. Not power exactly. Something worse. Something intimate.
Her fear. Her anger. Her need to keep him alive.
It sank into him like heat.
This wasn't romance. This wasn't destiny.
This was two people refusing to let the other die.
And that scared him more than the man in front of them.
Riven steadied himself, jaw tightening. "If you're planning to kill me," he said to the man, "do it fast. She's not patient."
Maelis hissed, but didn't deny it.
The forest went quiet.
And in that silence—aching, breathless, ridiculous—Riven realized something he didn't want to admit yet:
This bond wasn't gentle. It wasn't safe. And it definitely wasn't optional anymore.