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Chapter 4 - Chapter 4 — Echoes of the Bond

The next morning broke with mist and birdsong.

Kael woke beneath the hollow roots of an elder oak, Lyra sleeping a few paces away, her cloak rising and falling with slow breaths. Riven perched above them, feathers faintly silver in the dawn. Fenra lay curled beside Kael like a living wall of fur and moonlight.

For a moment, everything was peaceful.

Then the pain began.

It was small at first—a dull ache at the base of his skull—but it grew, a thrumming that matched his heartbeat and then overtook it. He sat up sharply, clutching his temples as visions struck him in flashes: the forest from above—Riven's view—trees blurring past beneath silver wings. Then the same clearing from below, scents and sounds flooding his mind in an explosion of sensation—Fenra's world, alive and sharp and wild.

The bond had opened both ways.

"Kael?" Lyra stirred. "You're pale."

"I… I can see them. Through their eyes." He gasped as another wave hit him, every heartbeat of the wolf and every wingbeat of the raven echoing in his body. "It's too much—too loud."

Lyra knelt beside him, pressing her palm to his chest. "Breathe. Slow your mind. The bond is like a river; you must learn to swim with it, not drown in it."

Her voice steadied him. He focused on her words, on the rhythm of her hand. The flood of sensations slowed until he could separate his own heartbeat from the others. Slowly, the pain ebbed.

He looked up at her. "Is it always like that?"

"For the first bond, no. For the second…" She smiled faintly. "You're doing what no one has done in centuries, Kael. Two bonds in two days. You'll need training before your soul tears itself apart."

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak cough. "That's encouraging."

They spent the morning near the stream where they'd met. Lyra taught him to ground his mind—to channel the noise of the bond into threads he could touch and release.

"Think of each link as a song," she said, eyes closed. "Riven's is sharp and quick, Fenra's deep and steady. Hear them both, but don't let them drown out your own."

Kael tried. When he stilled himself, he felt the world through three heartbeats—his, the wolf's, the raven's. Riven wheeled above the treetops, scanning for danger. Fenra prowled the edge of the glade, restless but content.

"I can tell what they're feeling," Kael murmured. "It's like… they're part of me."

"That's the danger," Lyra said softly. "Every bond gives power, but also burden. Too many, and you lose yourself."

He looked at his hand—the silver mark now faintly branching like roots beneath the skin. "How many is too many?"

"No one knows." She hesitated. "The legends say the first Beastbinder could command all creatures. But that power nearly consumed her."

Kael nodded slowly. "Then I'll have to be careful."

Lyra's smile was small but proud. "That's the right fear to keep."

By midday, they returned toward the forest's edge. Smoke still rose faintly from Cinder's outskirts, but the town was alive again—voices, hammers, and the steady rhythm of rebuilding. Lyra paused at the treeline.

"I shouldn't be seen here," she said. "The Wardens watch for my kind."

Kael frowned. "Who are they, really?"

"The Beast Wardens were once protectors," she explained. "They guarded the wilds after the War of Scales. But over time they feared what they couldn't control. Now they hunt druids and any who wield beast-magic."

"And they rule from Ardent?"

She nodded. "Their influence spreads everywhere. If they learn of your mark, they will come for you."

Kael's stomach tightened. "Then I'll keep it hidden."

"You'll need more than that." Lyra reached into her pouch and drew out a small crystal—green, faintly pulsing. "This will mask the aura of your bond for a time. But its power is limited."

He took it carefully. "Thank you."

"For now, train in secret. I will find you when it's safe."

He hesitated. "You're just… leaving?"

Her smile was wistful. "The forest moves me where it must. Besides…" She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You won't be alone. You have your pack."

Riven croaked softly. Fenra brushed against his leg, tail flicking once.

Kael nodded. "Then I'll be ready."

Lyra stepped back into the mist. "Until next moonrise, Kael Thornhart."

And then she was gone.

That night, Kael sat on the roof of his small home, looking over the dark line of the Ashenwild. The mark on his hand glowed faintly under the moonlight. Below, Cinder slept—unaware of the storm that might one day reach them.

Riven circled overhead, silent as shadow. Fenra lay near the gate, watching the stars. Through the bond, Kael felt their calm, their watchfulness. It soothed him.

But beneath it all, something else stirred—a whisper in the back of his mind, ancient and echoing. Find the Spire.

He frowned. "The Verdant Spire?"

The whisper deepened, becoming the faint image of a tower wrapped in vines, gleaming with light older than fire. Then it faded, leaving only silence.

Kael clenched his fist around the glowing mark.

The forest had given him power—and now it was calling him deeper.

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