Cassian's POV
What have they done to me?
The thought exploded through my mind, desperate and furious—except it wasn't my thought.
The voice was female. Terrified. Definitely not mine.
I jerked on the reins, and my horse stopped abruptly. "Who said that?"
Silence. Just the sound of wind and the girl's horse shifting beside mine.
Who said that?
There it was again. A thought. A voice. But not out loud—inside my head.
"Stop playing games," I snapped. "I can hear you."
More silence. Then, hesitantly, a thought drifted through my mind: You can hear me?
My blood went cold. "Yes. How are you doing this?"
I'm not doing anything! I just thought— The voice cut off abruptly. Oh no. Oh no no no.
"What? What's happening?"
I can hear you too. Your thoughts. Inside my head.
I froze. That was impossible. The binding spell was supposed to connect us physically, keep us from separating. Nothing about telepathy. Nothing about hearing each other's thoughts.
This wasn't supposed to happen, the girl's voice came again, panicked now. The spell went wrong. Something went wrong.
"Can you hear me right now?" I thought deliberately, focusing on the words.
Yes! Stop shouting!
"I'm not shouting. I'm thinking."
Well think quieter!
This couldn't be real. I'd hit my head during the binding ceremony. I was hallucinating. That had to be it.
You're not hallucinating, the girl's thought came, frustrated. I can hear everything you're thinking. Every single thought.
Horror washed over me. If she could hear my thoughts, that meant—
Yes, I know you think I'm annoying. I know you didn't want a partner. I know you're only doing this for the money. Her mental voice dripped with anger. And I know you hate magic.
"Stay out of my head!"
I'm TRYING! I don't want to be in your head any more than you want me there!
We sat on our horses in the dark road, both breathing hard, both trying to process what was happening.
Finally, I forced myself to think calmly. "Okay. Okay. Let's figure this out. When did it start?"
During the binding ceremony. Right at the end, when the pain was worst. I heard your thought—something about what they'd done to you.
I remembered. The moment the spell completed, when agony had ripped through both of us, I'd thought those exact words. And I'd heard her response.
"The Council doesn't know about this," I said slowly. "Helena didn't mention telepathy. She would have if this was supposed to happen."
So it's a mistake. A side effect.
"Or something worse." I clenched my jaw. "What if the spell is unstable? What if this is just the beginning?"
Fear flooded through the bond—not my fear. Hers.
What if we tell them? she thought. Maybe they can fix it.
"No." The word came out sharp. "We don't tell anyone."
Why not?
"Because if the Council finds out the binding spell did something unexpected, they'll kill us both. We're too unpredictable. Too dangerous."
Silence. Then, quietly: You're right.
We needed to move. Standing here in the open wasn't safe. "Can you ride? We need to get away from the Citadel."
I told you, I haven't ridden in—
"Ten years. I know. I heard that thought." I turned my horse north. "Just hold on and try not to fall off. We'll go slow."
We started riding, the horses' hooves loud against the cobblestones. The city was quiet at this hour—just a few guards on patrol, some late-night merchants closing their shops.
For the first few minutes, I tried to focus on riding, on the sounds around me, on anything except the voice in my head.
It didn't work.
I can't believe this is happening, the girl thought. Of all the things that could go wrong, I can hear the blind mercenary's thoughts.
"I have a name. It's Cassian."
I know. I can literally hear you thinking it.
"What's your name? Your real name."
Hesitation. Then: Seraphina.
"Well, Seraphina, we need to figure out how to block this. I can't spend thirty days listening to every thought in your head."
Trust me, the feeling is mutual.
I focused inward, trying to imagine walls around my thoughts. Barriers. Locked doors. Anything to keep my mind private.
That's not going to work, Seraphina's voice came through clearly. I can still hear you.
"Then you try something."
I felt her attempt—a sort of mental pushing, like she was trying to shove me out of her head. It didn't work either.
We rode for another hour, both trying different techniques, both failing completely.
Finally, exhausted, I gave up. "This is useless. We're stuck like this."
There has to be a way. We just haven't found it yet.
"Maybe. Or maybe we're connected now. Permanently."
The thought terrified us both. I felt her fear mixing with mine through the bond.
I have secrets, Seraphina thought quietly. Things I can't let anyone know. Not even you.
"Same here."
So what do we do?
I didn't have an answer.
We rode in silence—or as much silence as two people sharing thoughts could have. Random images kept flickering between us. A flash of her hands casting fire. A memory of me throwing knives. Emotions bleeding through: anger, fear, exhaustion.
As dawn started to break, painting the sky pink, I felt something new through the bond.
Curiosity.
Can I ask you something? Seraphina's thought came hesitantly.
"You're going to ask whether I want you to or not. I can feel it."
How did you lose your sight?
The question hit like a fist to the gut. "That's personal."
So is everything in my head that you're hearing. We're past personal.
She had a point. And honestly, she'd probably see the memory eventually anyway if this bond kept leaking like it was.
"Magical attack. Five years ago. A spell that was meant to kill me but only took my eyes." The words came out flat, emotionless. I'd practiced telling this story without feeling it. "I survived. The woman I loved didn't."
Sadness drifted through the bond—hers, not mine.
I'm sorry.
"Don't be. It was a long time ago." I paused. "What about you? How did you lose your voice?"
Her fear spiked so sharply I nearly fell off my horse.
I don't want to talk about it.
"Fair enough."
But I'd felt something else in that spike of fear. A memory, trying to surface. A throne room. People screaming.
Stop, Seraphina's thought came desperately. Please don't look.
I wasn't trying to look. But the bond had other ideas.
The memory pushed through anyway—just a flash, but enough. I saw a young girl hiding while men in masks killed everyone around her. I saw Helena Frost, younger but just as cruel, placing her hands on the girl's throat.
The memory cut off abruptly as Seraphina slammed mental walls up.
I said don't look! Her thought was almost a scream.
"I wasn't trying to! It just—happened."
Well make it not happen!
We both pulled our horses to a stop, breathing hard. The bond pulsed between us, carrying emotions neither of us wanted to feel: Seraphina's shame and terror, my guilt and shock.
"I'm sorry," I said aloud. "I really wasn't trying to invade your privacy."
I know. Her mental voice was small now. I felt that you weren't. But the bond doesn't care about privacy.
"We need to learn to control this before it gets worse."
Agreed.
We started riding again, slower now. The sun climbed higher, warming the cold morning air. Around us, the city gave way to farmland, then rolling hills.
For a while, we both focused on keeping our thoughts quiet. It sort of worked—the mental chatter dimmed to a background hum.
But exhaustion was setting in. We'd been up all night, and the binding ceremony had drained us both.
We should stop soon, Seraphina thought. Find somewhere to rest.
"Not yet. We need to get farther from the Citadel first. Another few hours."
I don't think I can ride another few hours.
I felt her exhaustion through the bond—bone-deep weariness that matched my own.
"Fine. We'll stop at midday. There should be a town ahead where we can get a room."
Together?
"We're bound, remember? Can't get more than a hundred feet apart. That means sharing rooms. Sharing space." I heard her dismay and added, "Don't worry. I'll sleep on the floor."
You don't have to—
"Yes, I do. I'm not going to make this more uncomfortable than it already is."
Gratitude flickered through the bond.
We rode until the sun was directly overhead, then found a small inn on the edge of a farming village. The innkeeper looked suspicious when I asked for one room, but gold changed his mind quickly.
The room was small, with one bed and a window overlooking fields. I dropped my pack and immediately lay down on the floor.
The bed is big enough for both of us, Seraphina thought.
"I'm fine here."
You're going to hurt your back.
"I've slept on worse."
She didn't argue further. I heard her sit on the bed, then lie down.
Silence fell. Real silence, for the first time since the binding.
Then, just as I was drifting off: Cassian?
"What?"
Thank you. For not asking more questions about... about what you saw.
"You're welcome."
Another pause. When we wake up... the walls might be down. We might see more.
She was right. Sleep would leave us vulnerable. Defenseless.
"Then we deal with it," I said. "Together."
Together, she echoed.
I closed my eyes, feeling the bond pulse steadily between us. Thirty days. That's all we had to survive. Thirty days with our minds connected, our secrets exposed, our walls crumbling.
What could possibly go wrong?
Just as darkness pulled me under, one final thought drifted through—I couldn't tell if it was mine or hers.
We're not going to survive this.
Then sleep claimed us both.
And the nightmares began.