After the first handful of people stepped through, a commotion was visible on the other side, with Peckham Rye tube station in view and a crowd of onlookers turned into first responders. Within minutes, as the pace of people stepping through the portal accelerated, the familiar flashing lights of police and paramedics transformed the once mundane high street into a disaster zone.
Ori nodded to Wojciech in appreciation as the portal rippled behind him. He then smiled at the kid he remembered showing off to, waved at him before he stepped through. Ori’s eyes lingered on the child even as others passed, until he burst into tears as paramedics wrapped him up in foil and moved him away from what was likely to be headline news—a paranormal rift in space.
"Simon— and, I’m sorry, I never got your name?"
"Mags, Magdalene, but people just call me Mag’s," she said, as a ten-year-old boy stood partially shielded in her embrace.
"Mag’s, Simon, you Awakened just now, didn’t you?" Ori asked.
Simon nodded hesitantly. "You know anything about that?"
"Yeah, but it’s a bit too much to get into right now. Just... my advice: tell no one about it on the other side, yeah? I can imagine ’ll be crazy enough when you get back, without G-men dissecting you and shit."
They both nodded as Ori looked around, expecting Raven to have come through already. "Alright, best go through before it closes," he said, leaving them after what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Anxiety grew as Ori backtracked. He cast his gaze in search of any stragglers. When he reached the other end of the passage—the place where he had left Raven—she was nowhere to be seen.
Ori could hear Karanno at the far side of the wide cavern, his golden javelins obliterating Slaugh by the dozen. Ori saw no one as he moved between the pillars and stalagmites of the wider area. 'Lysara, can you sense anyone left behind?' he asked, hoping his bond’s wider detection range would help him find Raven, along with anyone else who might have taken a wrong turn.
Instead of replying over their bond, a familiar sense replaced his own. Like a top-down, or in Lysara’s case, bottom-up sight more akin to a fuzzy tremor sense appeared within his mind's eye. There was no one beyond the recently deceased monsters within the cavern, but just at the edge of Lysara’s detection range, several life signatures moved further away through a hidden passage. A spike of terror gripped Ori’s mind as an unwelcome realisation dawned on him.
He ran.
‘Lysara.’
‘On it.’
The narrow crevice opened onto a cliff’s edge where, ahead, two men were dragging an unresponsive Raven behind them.
Lysara emerged from the ground like an electric submarine crackling with latent power. Ori bolted out of cover, his skin prickling under the distant effects of Lysara’s Greater Stun.
He kicked the two convulsing men with the full might of his Nascent-rank strength. They rolled several yards away, several ribs broken with their infernal taint clear to his burning eyes.
Raven was dead.
With Death Ward’s effects still lingering, her soul held on for now, but Ori had to deal with the two men first.
‘Lysara, go down but keep an eye out for me.’
‘Yes, Ori.’
Lysara submerged below and settled beneath Ori’s feet, her presence a grounding force against the roiling emotions within him.
From Freya’s premonition, Ori had not forgotten the likelihood of traitors among the humans he had rescued, but between the chaos and urgency of the day's events, it had been impossible for him to be everywhere at once. All it had taken was one moment of distraction, one moment of inattention, for someone close to him to be harmed.
A cold rage settled over him.
He summoned the unnamed, broken knife from his Void Storage ring. Soulcraft-aligned mana formed an invisible edge, restoring the blade. One of the men spasmed, his body jerking violently as a gargling scream tore from his throat.
Ori consumed Peritia to Soulcraft.
Raven gasped awake, her eyes wide in panic.
"It’s alright, I’m back." Ori held onto her.
She resisted at first, her breathing ragged, her limbs stiff with shock. But after several deep, shuddering breaths, the tension left her body, and he felt the chill of tears against his bare chest.
It had taken far less time to revive her than it had to deal with the traitors. After Redeeming the men with Soulcraft—stripping them of all infernally gifted powers at the cost of a few million points of Peritia—Ori had turned his full attention to Raven.
A single stab wound to the chest, inflicted by a knife enchanted with a Death Curse, had required him to rebuild her heart after dispelling the lingering black magic. Before using Life Spark, he had repaired the scratches from her body being dragged across the ground, then used Purifying Light to cleanse the blood and dirt from her skin.
Still, Ori had feared the worst right up until her revival. Even now, his Vision of the Progenitor scoured every millimetre of her body, searching for hidden injuries, lingering curses—anything that could threaten her life again.
“I’m sorry,” Ori said, his voice breaking. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
For several long minutes, they remained until he sensed a presence behind him.
“The portal will close soon,” Ruenne’del said, her wild, chaotic emotions betrayed only by the intensity of her gaze—a stark contrast to her otherwise solemn countenance. Ori turned towards her.
“Has everyone else gone through okay?”
Ruenne'del nodded.
“What about Karanno? Still no sign of infernal reinforcements?”
“Karanno awaits us at the gate room. No sign of the Galroga”
“Thanks, Rue. Could you drag these guys back and toss them through, please? I just need a minute.”
Silently, Ruenne’del acceded to Ori’s request, dragging each unconscious man by the ankle as she disappeared through the winding, rocky passage.
“We should head back.” Ori shifted to stand, but Raven’s hug tightened.
“Wait,” she said, her voice small—nothing like the brash Scottish art student he had come to know.
“What is it?”
Raven exhaled. “Rue and Freya told me some things. About Awakening, what it means, about choosing a class and other stuff. They also told me how I could help you.”
“How?”
Raven reached down, pulling Uriel’s Greater Channelling Wand of Light from Ori’s sock. “I still can’t believe you keep this in your sock. Also, gimme—I want my own magic wand back.”
With a bemused acceptance, Ori retrieved the wand that resembled a blackened twig. “What’s the plan? You know you can’t use these on the other side, right? I mean, you can, but it’d be a really bad idea.”
She snatched it back with a satisfied grin. “Yeah, yeah. Next—Rue told me you could soul-bound this to me.”
She held up a metallic band resembling two finely crafted, twisting dragons. Ori’s eyes widened, a pang of jealousy and incredulity leaving him momentarily stunned. Raven’s chuckle pulled him from his amazement.
Not only was it a Void Storage Ring, but it held the kind of enchantment that allowed items placed within to be temporarily soul-bound to the ring’s owner. In terms of storage capacity and value, it was thousands of times more valuable than the one Ori currently owned.
“Rue gave you this?” Ori asked.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
She laughed. “Aye. She told me it’d get a reaction out of you.”
Ori shook his head, taking the ring and binding her soul to the artefact with his Wandsmith spell: Taurna’dieh.
Raven held out her right hand, wiggling her ring finger with an impish grin. Ori sighed, shaking his head but giving in to her antics. She exhaled, looking down as if gathering her thoughts. Given her recent trauma—and the signs that this conversation was building towards something—Ori simply waited, giving her time.
“I want to become one of your Bonded. A—your Warlock.”
Ori hesitated. “I—why?” He forced away his instinctive reaction to deny her, to push her away because he felt unworthy, undeserving.
“Because I don’t want this to be the end.” She swallowed hard. “I need to go home—I can’t leave my ma and da wondering what happened to me. But after Awakening, after knowing what’s out there, I can’t just go back and pretend none of this exists. It’d drive me mad, like Tootles losing his marbles.” She chuckled weakly. “And… I don’t want this to be the last time I see you. I—”
“I feel the same,” Ori acknowledged.
“Good.”
“But..”
“Yeah, I know—I’m not ready for that yet. Not now. But Freya taught me a ritual. She calls it a Warlock Bond. Reckons it can work without, you know. She said you need to saturate the air with mana or some’aut.”
Ori did so. “Yeah? What next?”
“Right… now we both need to bite our lips hard enough to break the skin.”
“Er, really?” Ori frowned.
Raven shrugged, then winced as she bit down, drawing blood from her lower lip.
Unwilling to test just how resilient his Awakened flesh was, Ori summoned a blade from his Array, slicing a deep enough cut on his lip so it wouldn’t instantly heal. Raven flinched at the brief presence of the blade but quickly refocused.
She took a deep breath and spoke.
“I, Chloe Kumar—Raven—seek, by my own free will, to become Warlock to Ori—The Bondweaver.
"I vow my eternal loyalty without compromise. My fidelity, without deception or betrayal. No other master, no divided allegiances—only you. I will watch over our world, and in my dreams, I will hide nothing from you. I will find your Da and, with this wand, rid him of the cancer that threatens his life. In exchange, I seek the power of a bond and the ability to be summoned. When you have the mana—call for me, and I’ll come. No matter the distance, summon me, so I can stand by your side.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Raven pressed her bloody lips to his.
Ori’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, luxuriating in the warmth of the contact as the kiss deepened into something desperate. Something all-consuming.
The ritual burned between them, a silent forging of power, as the edge of her soul reached for his.
The Bondweaver welcomed the collision.
“It worked!” Raven laughed breathlessly after the embrace.
“Like I said, one kiss is all it takes.”
Ori held Raven’s hands as they waited for the portal to recharge in the Gateroom. Freya sat on his shoulders as Ruenne’del observed their conversation from a few paces away.
“I’m glad it worked. You have a way to form bonds while keeping your clothes on,” Freya snarked.
Ori patted his chest as if in minor discomfort. The bond he’d created felt somewhat tenuous despite the huge amount of capacity it reserved from his soul. Instinctively, he knew that the bloody kiss had been the very least intimate method he could use to form a bond at this time. Beyond that, his soul felt full, as if close to bursting. Meanwhile, unlike the empathic or telepathic bonds he had with his other bonded, without skin contact, it felt as if only a mere thread connected them.
While in skin contact, however, Ori could feel sparks. He shared a knowing look with Raven, who now looked more relaxed.
“You better not take too long to get the mana to summon me, ya hear?”
Ori smirked, pulling her in to spoon. “Might take me a while. You sure you can hold off until then? You know, you can break the bond by—”
“Yes I know, and no, that won’t happen.” Raven said, pulling his arms around her.
“You know it’s going to be crazy when you get back?”
Raven shrugged. “I can handle it, especially with my new powers.”
“Hey, you know you shouldn’t use them unless your life is in danger?”
“Aye, and I won’t, I’ll keep a low profile, refuse interviews and the like.” She said, eyeing the ring. Ori chuckled.
“What classes did you end up picking?” He asked in curiosity.
“Just the two for now.” Raven shared the details of her class with him via the Library of Fates.
Class Title: Shadow of the Bondweaver
Rarity: Unique
Rank: Journeyman
Requirements: Fortitude (Unified Will and Spirit), Shadow-related affinity
Per Level Bonus: +5 Fortitude, +10 Wisdom, +10 Intelligence,
+2 Inherent Affinities: Shadows, Darkness
Class Traits: While in the presence of The Bondweaver, shadows take on a life of their own, actively shifting to assist the Bondweaver in subtle ways—obscuring vision, dampening sound, or forming defensive constructs.
The user’s comprehension of Shadow Affinity develops at twice the normal rate, allowing for rapid mastery of shadow-related abilities, manipulation, and higher-tier spells.
Shadows instinctively react to the user's will, allowing them to extend their influence over larger areas, conceal themselves effortlessly, and meld into darkness seamlessly, even in broad daylight.
Description: Shadow of the Bondweaver is more than just a wielder of darkness—they are an extension of The Bondweaver’s will, a presence within the shadows that bends reality to their needs. This class enhances affinity with, and improves synergy with shadow and darkness magic, allowing the user to shape, command, and weaponise shadows both offensively and defensively. While near The Bondweaver, shadows stir unnaturally, shifting to defend, conceal, or strike with eerie intelligence. As the user deepens their connection to the Bondweaver’s power, their presence in the darkness grows ever more pronounced, blending seamlessly with the void and turning every shadow into an ally.
Class Spells: Darkness, Mould Darkness, Living Shadows, Shade’s Grasp,
Class Title: Warlock
Rarity: Rare
Rank: Journeyman
Requirements: Warlock Pact
Per Level Bonus: +10 Spirit, +10 Wisdom +10 Presence
Class Traits: Increases total mana pool and regeneration based on the strength of the pact and the power of the Pact Master. The Warlock’s abilities scale with devotion and service to the Pact Master, unlocking greater spells and boons upon achieving goals that further the Pact Master’s interests.
Upon forming the pact, the Warlock surrenders their soul to their Pact Master. Upon death, instead of passing into the Ethereal Realm or being reborn, the Warlock is claimed by the Pact Master—either to be reforged into a servant, resurrected at their master’s whim, or consumed for power. Only the Pact Master may determine their final fate.
Description: A Warlock is one who has entered into a binding pact with a higher entity—be it a celestial being, an eldritch horror, an enigmatic force of magic or forgotten god. In exchange for unwavering fealty, service, or a particular oath, Warlocks are granted access to enhanced mana reserves, forbidden knowledge, and unique abilities that align with their Pact Master’s domain. Unlike traditional mages, Warlocks channel power gifted to them rather than cultivate it internally, making them formidable spellcasters with access to magic beyond mortal comprehension.
However, this power comes at a price—their very soul. Upon death, a Warlock’s essence does not return to the cycle of rebirth or fade into the Ethereal Realm. Instead, it belongs entirely to their Pact Master, who may shape, empower, or consume them as they see fit. Whether this is a path to eternal servitude or ascension into something greater depends entirely on the whims of the one who holds their fate.
Class Spells: Channel Shadowfire, Dark Fireball, Summon Shadow Fiend
“I can’t get over how much of an edgelord you are,” Ori said in wonder. He’d be lying if he claimed not to be at least a little jealous of her classes. On top of that, he was impressed that Raven had somehow managed to unify Will and Spirit into Fortitude. Had that been a consequence of recent events? Her Awakening? Or did humans from Earth have a natural propensity towards unified characteristics? Without a larger sample size, Ori could only speculate. He felt her shrug in acceptance. “And the whole… ‘I own your soul’ thing. You sure about that?”
“Aye. Didn’t much care about my soul before, but now I reckon there are no safer hands than yours.”
Ori exhaled. “Thanks. Either way, it gives me another way to get you back to us, especially if things go to shit on the other side. You looking forward to going back?”
“Aye. Looking forward to showing Ma and Da my new legs. It’ll be good to spend time with them—actually do stuff for them instead of the other way around. They really took care of me after the accident. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through since I was kidnapped.”
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back?” Freya asked.
“Pizza. Double pepperoni, double mozzarella—I know a place in New Cross. Then shower, then sleep. You better visit me in my dreams as soon as, aye?”
“If not tonight, then tomorrow night. As long as we have the bond, we’ll always know each of us is safe,” Ori confirmed.
The portal opened onto a street less than a hundred yards from the previous one, an hour or two later, the glare of flashing blue lights reflecting off the familiar yellow-brick estates of Peckham Rye. Ori scanned the streets, a sudden, near-overwhelming sensation of longing catching him off guard.
“Oi,” Raven demanded, her presence cutting through his thoughts as he crystallised her appearance in his mind—olive coloured eyes sharp with mischief, freckled brown skin, a prominent nose, and kiss-swollen lips curved into a knowing smirk that hinted at both her South-Asian heritage and Scottish defiance.
Her hair was a wild tangle of black and electric blue, framing her face in chaotic, unruly waves. A silver ring pierced her lower lip, another at the curve of her nose—small, rebellious marks that suited the choker and battered leather jacket clinging to her fragile frame. She was all sharp edges and rude confidence, carrying herself like someone who had already lost too much to care what people thought—but still fought like hell for the few that mattered.
And she was his. His Warlock. His link to his old life. And he was profoundly grateful.
“Your phone. Gimmie,” Raven asked.
With five percent battery left, Ori unlocked his phone and handed it over after checking the barrage of missed calls and messages that had flooded through the reopened wormhole in space and time.
Raven wasted no time. Snapping a quick selfie of them—Ori, Freya perched on his shoulder, and Rue in the background—she entered her details into his contacts, fired off a message to herself with the photo attached, and smirked at Freya as she handed the device back.
“Look after him, yeah?”
“We will. Be safe,” Freya said.
As Freya flashed into her sprite form and darted away, Raven curled her arms around Ori’s neck, pulling them together for a final, lingering kiss. Ori’s hands instinctively found her hips, then the small of her back, almost lifting her off her feet as he pressed his need into her, their desire unwinding through every swirl of their tongues.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Ori’s breathing was heavy. “Best I let you go…”
“Yeah.”
They kissed again.
Ori watched as she stepped through the portal. As she had promised, she didn’t look back. As for him, he couldn’t look away. That same ache of separation and longing gripped him just as fiercely as when he had left Harriet and Poppy behind in the final trial.
Beyond that, a swirl of conflicting emotions churned inside him—doubt, self-recrimination—but also a clarity of purpose. A confirmation of who he truly was. The Bondweaver.
He was glad he had restrained himself from killing the traitors. After redeeming their souls, after reliving their tortures and deprivations, he understood—but he was not a forgiving man. He would not let any of this go.
“After I’m done with this, we’ll be on the clock,” Ori said, The Wandsmith making his reappearance.
“What do you plan to do, Ori?” Freya asked.
“Remember what I said about antimatter?”
“That a bucket of the stuff would leave a crater the size of a mountain range and poison the soil for hundreds of days?”
Ori stared at the charm left behind by Melisandre, still unwilling to move or touch it. Noting the continued absence of the Overseer, he left it be.
“Today, I’ll settle for just a cup of the stuff—enough to get rid of this mountain.”
With that, Ori set to work, dismantling the Gate Room enchantments and re-enchanting the array of heavy sources that had once powered interdimensional travel.