Kaelen was still shocked at his arm bleeding just like mine. The cut on my own upper arm was shallow, not much. But for Kaelen the shared agony was a punch to the gut for him.
He narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at me but didn't retort. He couldn't, just clenched his jaw.
The sting of my cut was his sting, amplified by the unfamiliarity of it. It was a reminder of the invisible chains that bound us.
He just stood there breathing heavily, completely caught off guard and looking very furious.
The skirmish with Veyon and Sari's attack-dogs was over, at least for now.
The remaining magic hounds, startled by Kaelen's shadow form and my uncontrolled curse-breaking (and maybe the lingering scent of confused squirrels), had retreated with their smug masters, leaving us alone in the tunnel.
My head ached from the stress, my scars pulsed with the familiar dull throb.
My shallow wound just started to glow. It didn't glow with the normal angry red light, but with a soft, cobalt blue.
A calming light that seeped into the cut, pulsed with rhythm.
I watched in fascination, as the skin stitched itself back together, the torn fabric of my tunic closing around it.
Before I could understand what was going on, the cut was gone. Like, disappeared. Leaving only a faint, new silvery line on my skin.
Seeing the unusual glow, Kaelen forgot his own pain for a moment. He stared at my arm, in horror.
"Your scars…" he murmured in a very low tone. "They're… they're devouring you."
I looked down at my arm, at the faint glow that quickly faded, leaving just another silvery line. It was true.
Every Contract I broke added another one. They were a map of my life, a tally of my defiance.
And a countdown.
I met his gaze, "Yeah," I admitted, my voice surprisingly calm.
"They are. Every time I use my power, every time I break a Contract, it… it burns a piece of me away. These scars aren't just marks, Kaelen. They're a countdown to my expiration date."
This truth I rarely spoke aloud hung heavy between us.
It was easier to joke, to snark, to pretend I was invincible. But seeing the raw pain on his face, mirroring my own, made it harder to lie.
He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. "And you still do it?" he asked, with something unreadable in his voice. Disbelief? Admiration? Pity? I wasn't sure.
"What choice do I have?" I scoffed, turning away to hide the sudden weakness that had crept into my voice.
"Better than living in your gilded cage, Prince. Better than living under the thumb of the Temple. Better than watching helplessly while the world gets strangled by invisible chains."
My voice toughened up, the usual defiant edge returning. It was easier to be angry. Anger was a shield.
He didn't push it further. He just stood there, silent for a long moment. I could feel his eyes on me, weighing my words, maybe even trying to understand.
Then, Kaelen spoke, his voice surprisingly soft, rough around the edges, but genuine.
"We're more alike than I thought." He reached into the deep pocket of his still-wet trousers, pulling out a ragged damp piece of cloth.
It looked like a torn piece of his own under-tunic. "Here," he said, his voice quiet, offering it to me. "For your arm."
I looked at the cloth, then at him. He wasn't demanding, or snarking. He was offering comfort. It was an unexpected gesture, so unlike him that it caught me off guard.
My fingers slightly brushed against him as I took the cloth.
The brief contact sent a weird shiver through me, not painful this time, but… warm. I tied it around my now-healed arm, even though it was no longer necessary.
The silence brought a new kind of understanding between us, forged in shared pain, in shared defiance and unspoken trauma.
My mind, however, always loved to revisit the darkest corners of my past. The newly agitated scars, seemed to sync with old memories.
Flashback: My Mother's Last Stand
My mother stood in the center of the square, her hands tied but she held her chin high in defiance.
The Inquisitor, dressed in all black with a stony judgmental face.
"Alara Veyra," his voice echoed, amplified by an unseen Contract. "You have defied the Eternal Contracts. You have brought chaos. Your crimes are an affront to the divine order."
Mother just smiled sad, beautiful smile.
The chilling pronouncement echoed through the terrified silence of the gathered villagers.
"Love is a flaw. Attachment is weakness. It must be purged from the hearts of those who defy the eternal Contracts."
His words were not just an accusation; they were a spell, a dark Contract in themselves, meant to break the spirit of anyone who dared to feel.
And then, he gestured to the executioner.
"Do not be afraid, Zahara," my mother had whispered that morning, pressing a hurried kiss to my forehead. "They will try to bind you, to control you. But you, my spark, will learn to break them all."
The axe fell.
The villagers screamed in horror. I didn't cry or scream. I just felt… something spark. A searing, burning pain breaking out across my skin, tracing lines on my arms, my back, my legs. My very first scars. The Contracted axe had taken her life, but in doing so, it had ignited something within me.
The flashback snapped away, leaving me trembling, from the physical and emotional pain of old wounds.
My scars still pulsed faintly, echoing that first painful moment. Kaelen was still looking at me, his gaze softening, as if he could sense the pain.
"We're more alike than I thought," he repeated quietly. There was a silence of quiet understanding, a truce in our constant bickering.
Suddenly, I heard a crackle of static. It was Lyra's voice, tinny and distorted, crackling into existence through a small, enchanted comms device she must have given me when she tossed the dagger earlier.
It was tucked neatly into my tunic, right near my collarbone. "Incoming!" her voice was urgent.
"Twenty enforcers, and they brought a… a Chain-Golem!"
Before I could even process the words, a deafening crash rocked the tunnel. The stone walls around us shook.
A section of the tunnel ceiling, not more than twenty feet ahead, exploded inwards, showering us with dust and debris.
A monstrous figure stomped into view from the newly created gaping hole. It was a Chain-Golem.
A freakish fusion of Contracts, gleaming metal chains, and… screaming souls. Each step it took shook the ground from its terrible grinding steps.
It was an abomination and a mockery of life, fueled by the very things I sought to break.
With glowing eyes and a swinging faceless head, the Golem stumbled towards me.
Pointing a glowing finger from a massive chain-link arm at me.
Amplified by unseen magic, a familiar chilling voice came from its chest. King Vostra's voice. Kaelen's father.
"Hello, son," the Golem sounded metallic and without warmth. Yet it was unmistakably the King's.
"Missed me?"
My blood just ran cold. This wasn't just a monster. This was personal for both of us.
Kaelen's shadow burst around him in pure, undiluted fury. His fists clenched, his red eyes blazing.
His own father Controlling a monster made of tortured souls?
This was beyond messed up. This was the Temple's ultimate weapon. And it was here for us.