A blood-curdling scream tore through the woods and could be heard over the roar of the beast, raw and savage, ripping apart the low groans and unnatural clicks that echoed through the forest.

  The scent of rot and damp earth clung to the air thick and heavy, wrapping around me like a warning. I stood atop the back of a thrashing monstrosity, my chest heaving as its grotesque form bucked beneath me.

  Its elongated muzzle stretched wider than possible, revealing jagged canines and crushing molars slick with black ichor. The stench of decay burned my throat as its void-like eyes locked onto mine, a bottomless hunger staring back.

  I plunged my blade into the back of its skull. Bone crunched, ichor sprayed, and the wet, sickening sound of its death was all too familiar at this point. As the creature's body stilled, the silence that followed was heavier than its death.

  My older brother, Axel, is a black-haired man with lean, sharp features. His crimson eyes narrowed in annoyance as he pulled the chain free of the Grotesque’s long limbs, draping it over his broad shoulders like it weighed nothing.

  “What the hell was that?” My mentor voiced, his violet eyes darting toward the direction of the scream that had pierced the forest moments earlier. His voice held a mix of curiosity and unease, but his thin, slitted pupils fixated on that spot for a good while.

  “Who fucking cares, Noite?” Axel snapped, his voice dripping with irritation. “I’m going home.” He brushed past us, his irritation as palpable as the cloying stench.

  I sheathed my sword with deliberate care, letting my fingers linger on the hilt for a moment.

  “You both head back before they all come looking for us,” I spoke firmly, my tone leaving little room for argument. Something was telling me to go. “I’ll check it out.”

  Noite hesitated, shooting me a skeptical look, but Axel merely shrugged and turned away.

  “Don’t let it be your funeral, Atlas,” Noite muttered curtly, already trudging off with a purposeful stride.

  As the forest swallowed their footsteps, I exhaled, the weight of the moment pressing against me, running a hand through my hair.

  The tension in my chest only grew as I stood there in the heavy silence. I whistled low, and the sound carried through the trees. Moments later, my steed emerged from the shadows.

  “Come on,” I murmured, gripping the reins. The massive black beast snorted softly, as if sensing my unease, but obeyed as I led it toward the direction of the scream.

  The path grew darker and narrower, the dense canopy above swallowing what little light remained. Every step felt heavier, the oppressive weight of the forest pressing down like a living thing. My instincts screamed at me to move faster, but I couldn’t without tripping on brambles and roots, my fingers twitching toward the hilt of my dagger.

  The trees opened into a clearing, and the air grew cold. At the center stood an old cobblestone well, its surface worn and streaked with moss. Blood darkened the earth around its base, stark against the muddy ground.

  I approached cautiously, my heart pounding. Something wasn’t right, the mana was concentrated in one small area. Rounding the well, I froze. A girl lay face down in the mud, her body crumpled and lifeless. Her clothes were revealing and were soaked through, scattered with blood and filth, clinging to her lightly battered frame. My stomach twisted at the stench of blood and vomit.

  Hiss

  I turned sharply, dagger drawn, only to see a fowl, a black-and-white winged animal with blood-matted feathers—waddling toward me. Its wings flared as it hissed again, snapping its beak with alarming aggression.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, stepping back. The damn fowl lunged at me, its beady eyes locked on mine.

  “Really?” I growled, sidestepping its next charge. “I’m trying to help!”

  It didn’t care. Snatching it mid-flap, I stuffed it unceremoniously into my saddlebag. Its muffled squawking barely registered as I turned back to the girl.

  Suddenly, something hit me with the force of a physical blow. One moment I was standing, the next, every breath was stolen from my lungs. It felt as if an invisible fist had slammed into my chest, a crushing pressure that stole my equilibrium and sent me staggering. There was a sharp tug deep within me, a visceral connection pulling taut like an unseen cord, and the air rushed out in a gasp.

  Then, understanding dawned – the bond. It was her. My knees buckled beneath me, a desperate need to reach her overriding everything else. My hands trembled violently as I gathered her frail form into my arms. She was so light, alarmingly so, her body shaking with a delicate tremor that ran through me as well. A terrifying fragility clung to her, the unsettling feeling that she might simply fade away if I didn't hold her close, protectively, anchoring her to me with every fiber of my being.

  She was dull compared to my memories of her, but I felt it, the invisible thread linking us. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold and damp. Blood stained her lips, mixed with the bile that clung to her chin.

  “Damn it,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What happened to you?”

  The forest blurred as I mounted my kon’, cradling her against me. Every uneven breath she took sent another stab of fear through me. She was dying. I didn’t know how, or why, but I couldn’t lose her.

  Not again.

  “At…las.” Her weak voice mumbled as her eyes opened and rolled back into her head. By the time the village gates came into view, my voice was raw from shouting.

  “Noite! Celtie!”

  The villagers turned, their faces riddled with shock as I stormed through. I had never dismounted faster than I had in that moment. I didn’t even stop to explain, I burst into the healer’s hut with Mel limp in my arms.

  “Celtie!” I roared.

  The healer spun, her magenta eyes widening at the sight of us, her fur-covered hands covered in herbs and stained green. She hesitated for a moment before rushing forward and barking orders.

  “Lay her down—quickly!”

  I lowered Melia onto the cot, my hands hovering over her as if I could shield her from whatever was killing her.

  “I found her near an old well,” I said, my voice hoarse. “She was like this. Fevered, shaking, she had vomited blood. Celtie…” My voice cracked. “She whispered my name. She said my name.”

  Celtie’s sharp gaze faltered for a heartbeat, snapped back to focus, her magic flaring to life as she started to read Melia’s mana.

  A few moments later, Noite appeared beside me, his face ashen.

  “It’s her,” I said, my words barely audible. “It’s Melia.”

  In an instant, his carefully constructed composure crumbled. His eyes, usually cold and sharp, were wide with a mixture of disbelief and terror. The sight of this normally stoic warrior with such raw emotion sent a shiver down my spine. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. His hands, typically steady and calloused from sword training, trembled as he reached out, then abruptly pulled back as if afraid to touch her. He looked like he might collapse, his strong frame suddenly seeming fragile.

  "Melia?" he choked out, his voice a strangled whisper. He stumbled towards the cot, his gaze fixed on her pale face, the disciplined warrior replaced by a terrified brother. "Gods..." he breathed, sinking to his knees beside her. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light. "What happened to you, little bird?" His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes.

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  Celtie’s voice was sharp as she barked at us.

  “She’s in mana shock. If we don’t siphon the overflow now, she won’t make it to see Moonfall.”

  “I’ll take it!” I said without hesitation, My pulse raced, but my resolve was firm. “I can handle the strain—I’ll siphon and transfer it, or burn it off if I have too.”

  Noite’s gaze hardened, his jaw clenched as he assessed me. Then he gave a terse nod.

  While Celtie worked swiftly to stabilize her, I dropped to my knees beside Melia, her small, icy hand limp in mine. My breath hitched as I opened myself up, letting her mana flood into me. It felt like I was embraced in a warm, rare pelt, her mana fighting with mine, it slowly grew thick and heavy with every pulse. As I sat there all night transferring her mana into crystals or other objects Celtie left in a basket beside me.

  “You’re not leaving me,” I whispered, my voice raw and breaking. “Not this time. Not again.”

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* ?. ───

  The following morning, there was more commotion in the village. Hikei was here. I don’t know when anyone found the time to tell him, but he found out. The hut felt suffocating even without him in it. The tension in the village had been mounting since we’d brought Melia back, and now it had reached its peak with all three of them in the village again.

  Everyone knew he’d come as soon as he heard. Hikei Aetherian Cottanari—the eldest son of Ylus Aetherian and Anella Cottanari, a man who could cause instant devastation and reduce mountains to rubble. A man with such a weighty reputation it made the air heavier just thinking about him.

  Hikei stormed into the hut like a gale, his presence consuming the space entirely. For a moment, I froze under his piercing gaze, like prey caught in the eyes of a predator. He didn’t speak right away, but his expression—half desperate, half furious—said more than words ever could.

  “Tell me everything,” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. It wasn’t a request. His tone carried an urgency that made my stomach tighten. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”

  I hesitated, my mind racing to organize the chaotic series of events.

  Where did I even start? The well? The blood? The state we’d found her in?

  As I struggled to find my words, Hikei’s expression darkened, and he took a step closer.

  “Near a well,” I began, my voice sounding too soft. “I found her lying near a well.”

  “How did you find her? What state was she in? Did she say anything? Is she—” His voice faltered for a fraction of a second, cracking with raw emotion. “Is she alive?”

  “She’s alive,” I said flatly. “She is suffering from mana shock, She was depleted of all her mana, then suddenly absorbed all the mana in the clearing I found her in, if our assumptions are correct.”

  The words landed heavily, and Hikei turned away, his broad shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths.

  “I found her unconscious lying face-down in the dirt after we heard a scream while killing a grotesque,” I continued, trying to keep my voice flat. “She vomited blood from what I saw. She wasn’t breathing right, and her body was trembling with a fever. I thought she—” I stopped myself. Saying it out loud felt like tempting fate. “I brought her back as fast as I could. She hasn’t woken up since.”

  I could feel the storm brewing within him, his emotions were barely held in check. The weight of his concern hit me harder than I’d expected—it wasn’t just anger; something heavy.

  “And the bond?” he asked, his tone demanding. “You’re her guardian, did you feel it? What did you feel?”

  The bond. The whole reason I am even alive right now. My chest tightens at the mention of it. It was a blessing to have such a connection with someone as rare and radiant as Mel.

  “Feel what?” I asked in a monotone voice, playing dumb, “Where is Noite? Shouldn’t-” I was cut off.

  “I’m right here.” his flat, cold tone made the room feel stale. “Did you feel the bond or not?”

  Hikei glanced down at Melia as if he were contemplating or plotting something, depending on my answer.

  “I did,” I admitted, keeping my voice low and carefully neutral. “There was… a jolt. A clear indication she was in distress.” I deliberately omitted the intensity, the breathlessness, the profound sense of connection that had shaken me.

  I was exhausting myself just to stay with her at all times, this was an insane test of my limits. Siphoning off Mana, and displacing it into rare stones or random spells, the amount of mana she possessed was overwhelming to say the least, and these two were the biggest threat to potentially separating us.

  The very thought of them taking her away was enough to make me feel physically ill, a chill working its way up my spine.

  “If she dies, I die too,” I said a little too flatly as Hikei seemed rattled by my words.

  Hikei stepped closer, towering over me now, his voice rising.

  “Don’t you understand? This is my little sister! The princess of the Astraviels and the Maiden to the Goddess Serenity. We’ve searched for her for over a decade. I need to know she’s in capable hands! If you are not capable of understanding the gravity of the situation, I’ll move her elsewhere.”

  His frustration was palpable, and I flinched despite myself. I couldn’t back down—not about this.

  “I do understand!” I tried my hardest to keep my voice level, fighting the tremble that was tempting to slip out. “I failed to keep her safe before, but I was too foolish and inexperienced then! It felt like I was being torn apart. Don’t think for a second that I don’t care. I’m doing everything I can to make it right! I’ve done nothing but cling to the faint feeling of my bond with her and run myself to the brink of dying from exhaustion just to be someone she can truly rely on.”

  His glare softened, just a fraction, but the intensity in his eyes didn’t waver.

  “Then prove it,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Prove to me that you can keep her safe. Because if you fail—if we lose her again—” His voice broke slightly, and for a moment, I saw something raw in him. Vulnerability. Grief. “We can’t lose her again.”

  I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me like a lead cloak.

  “I will do everything for her, for my life belongs to her,” I spoke, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

  The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unspoken fears. Hikei stared at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge whether he could trust me. Finally, he stepped back, exhaling a long, shaky breath.

  “Good,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “See that you don’t fail again. After she wakes up, I will leave the rest to you and Noite until I can locate him, before he shows up and destroys everything to find her.”

  And then he was gone, leaving the hut as abruptly as he’d entered.

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* ?. ───

  Her fever broke on the fourth night. I knew the exact moment it happened because her mana leveled, and some color returned to her face. Celtie, always the calm in the storm, said she was stable enough to be moved. It was a relief. Refusing to let anyone else carry her, so much as touch her unnecessarily, I gently scooped her up. It wasn’t a debate or even a conversation. She looked so fragile and frail.

  Every step I took toward the hut was deliberate and careful. Keeping my eyes on her face the whole time, drinking in the faint signs of recovery. She looked so small, so fragile, but she was alive. That was all that mattered.

  The cottage at the edge of the village was quiet and secluded. Celtie said she’d need peace to heal, and I agreed. The room smelled faintly of herbs and fresh wood, a single lantern casting a warm glow across the bed we’d prepared for her. Lowering her onto it as gently as if she were made of glass, tucking the blankets around her with trembling hands.

  Once she was settled, I planted myself in the chair beside her bed and didn’t move. Not that night, not the next day. Sleep didn’t matter. Food didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. It was the only thing keeping me anchored.

  If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll fall to pieces. She's been my purpose since I was a kid. The only thing keeping me alive...

  Now and then, I’d reach out—just to touch her hand, to brush a strand of hair from her face.

  The bond, her usual faint presence, was now a heavy, invisible tether to my being. The thought of that bond, that sensation being gone, was unbearable.

  On the evening of the sixth day, Noite stopped by. I heard the door creak open but didn’t look up. I already knew it was him from the way the air shifted—heavy, tense.

  “Atlas,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You need to rest.”

  “I’m not leaving her.” My voice sounded rough, like I hadn’t used it in days.

  “You’ve been glued to her ever since you found her,” he said, his tone sharper now. “She’s stable. I can watch her for a while. You’re no good to her if you collapse.”

  I finally turned to look at him. His violet eyes were sharp, assessing, but I could see the concern buried beneath.

  “Do you have any idea what it was like?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Finding her like that? Watching her suffer? I failed her once, Noite. I can’t—I won’t—fail her again.”

  Noite’s expression softened, but he didn’t relent.

  “You didn’t fail her, you were a kid. You found her in the end, Atlas. You brought her back, and she’s alive because of you. If you keep this up, you’ll burn out. Then who’s going to protect her when she wakes up?”

  His words hit like a hammer. I looked back at Melia, my gaze lingering on her pale face, her fragile frame. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  “I’ll rest,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him. “But not yet.”

  Noite sighed, clearly frustrated but unwilling to fight me on it.

  “You smell, clean up this room and yourself, fucking foul, I’ll bring you something to eat,” he muttered as he turned to leave. “Don’t make me force-feed you or drag you out of here.”

  “I’ll be right back, Melia,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

  I sniffed myself and recoiled in disgust as I got up and followed him out, the door closing behind us. My body felt heavy, my mind even more so. Running a hand through my messy hair, I exhaled a shaky breath, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

  ─── ? ??☆: *.? .* ?. ───