The road winds through hills scarred by fire. The corpses of bandits lie where they fell, already claimed by carrion birds. Kael walks in silence, his steps unsteady. His sword hangs at his side, but his hands tremble, stained with blood he cannot wash away.
Elira hums as she walks beside him, her golden eyes bright, her hands still red from the fight. She has not cleaned them. When Kael suggested stopping at a stream, she only smiled. "Why wash away proof of how much I love you?"
Kael's chest tightens. He cannot meet her gaze. The mark burns, as if feeding on her words, binding him tighter.
By nightfall, his body feels heavy with exhaustion. They find a ruined shrine at the edge of a forest, its broken pillars wrapped in ivy. Kael sinks against the cold stone, struggling to steady his breath. His arm aches from the clash of steel, and his mind replays Elira's laughter as she killed.
Elira kneels in front of him, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "You are pale. Did one of them hurt you?"
Kael shakes his head, though the ache in his chest says otherwise. "I'm fine."
Her smile hardens. "Do not lie to me. If you hide wounds, how can I keep you safe?"
Before Kael can answer, footsteps echo through the shrine. He stiffens, hand going to his blade. Elira rises instantly, placing herself between him and the sound.
From the shadows steps a girl dressed in pale robes. She carries a staff tipped with silver, and her eyes was clear and blue like winter's sky — widen at the sight of them.
"You…" she whispers. "You bear the mark."
Kael freezes. "You know of it?"
The girl nods slowly. "I am Lyra. A wandering healer. I've studied the old curses… and yours is among the darkest." Her gaze flickers to Elira, then back to Kael. "You shouldn't be alone."
Elira's voice sharpens like a blade. "He isn't. He has me."
Lyra regards her calmly. "And yet he looks afraid."
Kael's breath hitches. The words cut deep, sharper than steel. He glances at Elira, whose smile falters for the first time, golden eyes narrowing.
Lyra steps closer, kneeling at Kael's side. Her hands glow faintly with healing light as she reaches toward his arm. "You're injured. Let me help."
Elira moves instantly, her dagger flashing into her hand. "Do not touch him."
Kael grabs her wrist, his voice harsh. "Elira, stop."
Her eyes widen. "But..."
"Let her," Kael says, his voice firmer now.
For a long moment, Elira stares at him, her chest rising and falling sharply. Then, with visible strain, she lowers the dagger. Her smile returns, brittle at the edges. "Of course. If that is what you want."
Lyra's hands rest gently on Kael's arm. Warmth spreads through him, easing the ache. For the first time since the battlefield, his body feels light. He exhales, relief breaking through the haze of fear.
But when he looks at Lyra, her soft smile sends another shiver down his spine not of fear, but of unease. There is something in her eyes, something too intent.
"You're strong," she murmurs. "Even carrying such a curse, you fight to survive. I will stay with you. You need me."
Kael stiffens.
Elira's smile sharpens again. "He doesn't need you."
Lyra's gaze meets hers, calm but unyielding. "We'll see."
Kael closes his eyes. The mark burns hotter than ever, as if it revels in their words.
Two chains have already locked around him. One of gold and fire. One of ice and light.
And deep inside, he knows more are coming.
The shrine's broken roof leaks moonlight across the stone floor. Kael lies awake against the cold wall, his hand pressed over the burning mark on his chest. Sleep refuses him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees blood dripping from Elira's dagger, and then the strange calm smile of Lyra as her light soothed him.
Two faces. Two voices. Both bound to him, yet neither truly his choice.
The mark pulses with heat, as if mocking him. He clenches his jaw. "Why me? Why this curse?" he whispers. But only silence answers.
Across the shrine, Elira sits cross-legged, polishing her dagger though it is already spotless. Her golden eyes never leave him. When she notices his gaze, she smiles. "Can't sleep? I'll keep watch. You can rest."
Before Kael can reply, Lyra stirs from where she has been sitting near the altar. She rises gracefully, her staff glimmering faintly in the moonlight. "He doesn't need to push himself. His wounds are still fresh. He should lie down properly, not against cold stone."
She moves toward him, but Elira blocks her path with silent precision.
"He's mine to protect," Elira says softly, though her eyes burn. "Stay away."
Lyra does not flinch. "You say you're protecting him, but look at him. His body is trembling, his mind clouded. Your way leaves him broken. My way heals."
Kael pushes himself up, voice strained. "Enough. Both of you."
For a moment, silence falls. The two girls turn to him, their gazes locking onto his face with equal intensity. He feels pinned beneath them, as though the mark itself has summoned invisible chains around his body.
"I don't want either of you fighting," Kael continues. "We're on the same road. If you care about me..." his voice catches on the word, "...then don't tear each other apart."
Elira's expression softens instantly. She kneels beside him, her hand brushing his cheek. "Of course. If you don't want me to fight, I won't. But you have to promise… never let her replace me."
Her voice is silk, but the blade hidden beneath it chills him.
Lyra kneels on his other side, placing a gentle hand over his wrist. "I don't wish to replace anyone. But you need more than a blade dripping in blood. You need balance. You need me."
Their hands rest on him, one warm, one cool. Kael feels trapped between fire and ice, his chest burning.
The mark thrums violently, feeding on their emotions. He gasps, clutching it, but neither girl lets go.
Elira leans closer, her breath warm against his ear. "She doesn't understand. I'll kill anyone who tries to take you."
Lyra whispers on his other side, her tone calm but unshakable. "Even if she kills me, I'll never let go of you."
Kael's pulse hammers. He can feel their devotion, their madness, pressing in from both sides. He wants to shout, to run, to escape the shrine and the curse. But his body does not move. The chains bind him tighter with every heartbeat.
In that moment, he understands something terrible.
This is only the beginning.
Two girls already circle him like wolves over prey. And the road to Arkenhall stretches far, promising more faces, more hearts, more chains.
Kael shuts his eyes. "I'm not a prize. I'm not..."
But the mark burns hotter, as if mocking his denial.
And in the moonlit shrine, Elira and Lyra smile. Each convinced he belongs to them alone.