Kael noticed her the moment she shifted in her seat. The faint flicker beneath her sleeve was almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to him, it was a beacon. It called to him like a whisper in the middle of a storm, insistent and impossible to ignore. He had learned long ago not to ignore a bond—not when it pulsed like this.
She tried to look normal, scribbling notes with half-hearted strokes. Her pen hovered uncertainly, her eyes occasionally darting up, scanning the room as if searching for an escape. Kael could feel the warmth beneath her skin, pulsing in sync with his own mark. It was subtle, almost teasing, but he felt it with unnerving clarity.
He wanted to reach out. To warn her. To say something that might make sense of all this. But he didn't. Not yet. The bond was new. Fragile. Unpredictable. Acting hastily could do more harm than good. People like them didn't get the luxury of impulsive decisions.
Then she looked up. Their eyes met. Just for a heartbeat, and the world tilted. The bond flared between them—bright, hot, alive. It pulsed through him like a shockwave, responding to her own. He could feel her confusion, her fear, her unwilling acknowledgment. And she could feel him too.
Kael exhaled slowly, letting the tension settle, even as the thrill of recognition surged through him. It's already started, he thought. And there's no turning back.
He stayed until the lecture ended, letting the other students file out before him. He didn't rush. The bond would pull her here, if he let it. And he had learned patience was often the best weapon in their line of… unusual connections.
By the time he reached the old neem tree outside the faculty block, the sun had begun its slow dip toward the horizon. The light caught the copper strands in his hair, brushing over the glow of his mark. The world seemed ordinary, quiet. But beneath the calm, the bond thrummed—a constant reminder that this moment was anything but normal.
She appeared shortly after, clutching her books like shields. Her shoulders were tense, her steps tentative. Kael took it all in, silently noting every flicker of fear, every breath she tried to control, every instinctive glance at his wrist. The bond hummed in response to her, hotter now, almost impatient.
She tried to run away but I called out and stopped her, she came to a halt albeit scared.
"You see it too," he said softly, lifting his wrist just enough for her to notice the glow.
Her eyes widened. Her mark flared, brighter, hotter, like fire licking the edges of her skin. He let out a quiet, controlled breath, steadying himself even as his pulse quickened.
"This isn't going away," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer. "No matter what you think, no matter how much you fight it. There's no breaking this bond, Amara. Not for you, not for me."
Her throat worked, delicate, unsure, and he saw the tiny catch of breath she tried to suppress. She wanted to run. He could tell. But she didn't—not fully. Instead, her gaze darted, cautious but anchored.
Kael studied her carefully. He noticed the tremor in her hands, the way her fingers flexed around her books as though they were the only thing keeping her grounded. He saw the spark of defiance in her eyes, the little edge of stubbornness she didn't even know she was radiating. This one's different, he thought. She's not like the others.
"You're going to learn to trust it," he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper, more to himself than to her. "The bond… it's already part of us now. Whether you like it or not."
Her books pressed against her chest trembled slightly, but her eyes didn't waver. Sharp. Unyielding. That spark… it wouldn't fade. Not ever.
Kael shifted his weight, letting his senses absorb the small details around them. The neem tree's leaves rustled gently, brushing against the fading sunlight. A few students walked past in the distance, their chatter dull against the weight of this moment. Even the wind seemed to pause, carrying only the faint scent of grass and earth.
He reached out a hand, careful. Not demanding. Not threatening. Just… offering.
The bond pulsed in response, thrumming between them like a heartbeat made of light. It wasn't just magic. It wasn't just instinct. It was alive, urgent, intimate. He could feel her hesitation, her doubt, her fear. And beneath it, a strange, trembling curiosity.
"Why me?" Her voice was soft, almost breaking, but clear enough.
Kael swallowed. He didn't have an answer he could give—not fully. "I don't know," he admitted. "The bond… it chooses. And sometimes… you don't get to ask why. Only that it did."
Her gaze faltered, scanning his face, searching for any sign of deception or mockery. He gave her none. Only quiet honesty.
"You don't have to like it. You don't have to understand it. Not yet," he continued, taking a slow step closer. "But it's real. And it's here. We're bound, Amara. And that's not something either of us can undo."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Kael could see the internal struggle—the fight to deny, to resist, to retreat. He didn't push. Not yet. The bond would do the work in its own time.
The sun dipped lower. Shadows stretched across the courtyard, stretching between them like invisible lines of connection. Kael's hand stayed extended, the faint warmth of his mark brushing against the pulse of theirs. The rhythm between them grew steady, stronger, undeniable.
Finally, he spoke again, softer, gentler: "Whatever happens, Amara… we don't face this alone. Not now. Not ever."
Her eyes met his again, bright and defiant, a tiny spark of trust hidden beneath layers of uncertainty. Kael allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. That spark… it was enough.
The bond pulsed again, louder this time, strong, insistent. He felt it echo in his chest, in his veins, in the very rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time in a long time, Kael felt something besides inevitability. Hope. Fragile, flickering, but real.
We're bound, he thought. And he wouldn't let that be a curse. Not for her. Not for him.
Kael stayed there a moment longer, letting the silence settle around them. The world continued moving—students walking past, leaves rustling, distant laughter—but here, under the old neem tree, nothing else mattered.
The bond pulsed quietly between them, a steady, insistent rhythm that felt both comforting and terrifying. Kael could feel her hesitation, her thoughts circling, resisting and questioning at the same time.
She didn't speak. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes flicking down to her glowing wrist and back up to his face. Something fragile shifted in her—curiosity, fear, a spark of reluctant trust. He didn't need words. The bond was already speaking louder than either of them could.
Kael took a slow step back, just enough to give her space. "Rest tonight," he murmured, almost to himself. "Think. Feel. Don't fight it… not yet."
Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing. Only her eyes lingered on his, a storm of questions and doubts she wasn't ready to voice.
The shadows deepened around the neem tree. The world felt impossibly large—and impossibly small—focused entirely on the two of them and the invisible tether that bound them.
Amara remained rooted in place, books clutched to her chest, staring at her glowing wrist. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She had so many questions. So many fears. And yet… a strange, undeniable warmth spread through her, impossible to ignore.
Whatever this was, she realized, it had already begun.
And nothing—no amount of denial, no distance, no escape—would undo it.