Kael's POV
Some names aren't spoken.
They're carved—into memory, into blood, into bone.
And hers… hers was fire.
Elowen.
That name had become a fault line in my chest. One I couldn't cross without falling, one I couldn't seal without breaking.
She was asleep when I returned.
The morning light crept through the trees, casting silver threads across her skin. She slept curled on one side, one arm tucked under her head, the other resting on her bare stomach—where the sigil had begun to change.
It was spreading.
No longer a single mark—it had bloomed into something ancient. Something primal. A pattern that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
I stared at it from a distance, breath tight.
I had told myself I would destroy it. That was the reason I came back with the black iron blade, smelted in Crescent fire and soaked in ash-water. The only known weapon that could sever living sigil magic.
But now…
I hesitated.
Every instinct in me screamed to act. End this before it consumed her. Before it consumed me.
I stepped closer.
The sigil flared in warning. It recognized the blade. The air thickened. Even asleep, her body tensed, as if it knew it was in danger.
I knelt beside her.
"Elowen," I whispered.
She didn't stir.
I placed my hand near her side, just inches from the mark.
And then—I stopped.
Not because of fear. But because of the ache.
Because I remembered this warmth. I remembered the curve of her back, the scent of her skin, the way her lips parted in sleep. Not from this life.
From dreams.
From every dream.
---
They began when I was seven. Always the same.
A girl standing in the snow. Eyes full of stars. Her sigil glowing like fire beneath frostbitten skin.
She'd never speak.
But I'd feel it—this crushing sense of loss. And yearning. As if we had lived a thousand lives together, and every time, we found and lost each other all over again.
No matter how I grew, no matter how the war hardened me, she remained.
Even when I tried to forget her, she would return—always in the hour between night and morning. My spirit reaching across time for hers.
And now… here she was.
Sleeping in front of me.
Real.
Alive.
Mine.
---
My hand trembled as I reached for the sigil. Not with the blade—never again. Just my fingers. Just my skin against hers.
The moment I touched her, the world tilted.
A rush of warmth shot through my palm, crawling up my veins, latching onto every broken part of me like it was mending what I never thought could be healed.
The sigil flared, golden-red.
And then—
So did mine.
My own mark—one I had kept hidden beneath layers of battle cloth and binding spells—came alive with fire.
Matching hers.
And then it happened.
Our blood lit up.
A single thread, burning bright, weaving from her chest to mine—binding, intertwining, glowing.
I gasped. The connection was too strong. I tried to pull back—but it held.
And in the joining, I saw her dreams.
I saw myself.
---
We were in a hall of mirrors—ancient, cracked, infinite.
She stood across from me. Not as she was now—but younger. Wild-haired. Eyes burning like moons. A crown of ash on her brow.
She raised a hand toward me.
My hand moved in tandem.
We were the same.
Two halves carved from one prophecy. Two flames split by time, only to reunite in ruin.
---
I jolted back with a cry, breaking the vision.
Elowen stirred, eyes fluttering open, confused—then afraid.
"Kael?" she whispered, voice husky from sleep.
I cupped her face before I could stop myself. "You've been in my dreams since I was a boy."
Her breath caught.
"I didn't know it was you until now. Until I touched your flame."
She stared at me, searching. "Why does it feel like we've known each other longer than we've been alive?"
"Because we have," I said.
She sat up slowly, our knees touching. Her hand reached for mine—not with caution, but with desperate tenderness.
The kind that can only come from souls that had once been torn apart.
I held her hand tightly. "I tried to destroy the sigil," I admitted. "I brought a blade."
She didn't flinch. "But you didn't."
"I couldn't."
Elowen leaned forward. "Because you love me?"
The words landed like thunder. I flinched. "I don't know what this is. It feels like love—but it also feels like war."
She smiled sadly. "Maybe that's what love is. A war where both sides bleed willingly."
---
We stayed like that for a long time. Knees pressed. Hands locked. No words.
Only warmth.
Only ache.
Only truth.
And I knew then—I was already lost.
Not because I couldn't kill the sigil.
But because I didn't want to survive a world where she didn't exist.
---
Hours passed.
We moved through the forest together, toward the old ruins where I'd buried the last of my mother's books. If I wanted to understand why Elowen had been in my visions… I had to look deeper.
The ruins were cold and damp. Moss grew between the stones. Bones buried beneath. My mother had died here—protecting the last relics of the Moonborn line.
I never told anyone. Not even the Assembly.
I didn't trust them with her memory.
Now, I wasn't sure I trusted myself.
---
Elowen stood in the center of the chamber as I unearthed the sealed chest. Her fingers brushed old carvings on the wall—runes written in Moonblood script.
She paused. "Kael. This one says 'The name that burns will return in flesh.'"
I stiffened.
The lid creaked open.
Inside was parchment. Dried flowers. And a silver-bound volume marked with the Thorne crest.
I opened it with trembling hands.
First page: the sigil of the Moonborn.
Second page: a record of dreams.
Third—
A letter. In my mother's handwriting.
Kael, my son. If you are reading this, the bond has awakened.
I stopped breathing.
You will find her. You always were meant to. The dreams were not madness—they were memory. Your souls were tied before your first breath. You were bound before your bones knew fire.
My hands shook violently.
Elowen stepped beside me, reading over my shoulder.
The last line:
> "You are not cursed, Kael. You are chosen. Just as she is. But know this—love like yours does not come without war."
And beneath it—
A final voice.
Soft. Familiar.
Not from the paper.
From the shadows.
From behind us.
"Kael…"
I turned sharply.
A figure stood at the edge of the ruined door.
Shrouded in moonlight.
Familiar.
Impossible.
My mother.
Or… her echo.
Her voice trembled through the stone.
> "You were bonded long before you were born, Kael…"