The hut felt too small for the truth that had just been spoken.
Elara stood frozen, Mara's words echoing again and again in her mind:
"If one of you dies… the other will follow."
The air seemed to thicken, pressing on her lungs. Her vision blurred as questions crashed into each other.
Bound to Lucien.
Bound in life.
Bound in death.
"I… don't understand," she whispered.
Mara exhaled softly, her lined face full of sorrow. "Child, destiny does not always ask permission. Sometimes it chooses the vessels it needs."
Lucien remained silent, though the tension in his posture deepened. His fingers curled at his sides as if fighting something unseen.
Elara swallowed hard. "The bond… if it's tied to our lives, does that mean if one of us is hurt—?"
"Yes," Mara said gently. "The pain may echo. The connection is not only spiritual. It is physical."
Elara's pulse raced.
Lucien finally spoke, voice taut. "Mara. There must be a way to break it."
Mara met his eyes. "There was—once. But the ritual is lost."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Then we find it."
Elara studied him, surprised by the quiet intensity in his voice. He didn't fear death—she knew that instinctively. But the thought of her bound to his fate unsettled him in ways he refused to show.
"Why?" Elara asked.
Lucien turned toward her, expression unreadable. "Because I do not want your life tied to mine."
"But you saved my life," she whispered.
"That is not the same as choosing to bind it."
The words struck deeper than she expected. Her chest tightened painfully.
Mara moved to the shelves, rummaging through jars and scrolls. "There may be clues in the texts your mother left behind. But answers will not come quickly."
Lucien stepped forward, voice low and edged. "The priests will come again. And next time they won't retreat. We need to move."
Mara nodded solemnly. "There is a sanctuary beyond the marsh, hidden where the rivers split. The Priests cannot enter sacred riverland."
Elara frowned. "Why not?"
"Because the rivers carry the remnants of old magic," Mara explained. "Magic that predates their god. It repels their rites."
Lucien nodded once. "Then that is where we go."
Mara turned to Elara and clasped her hands. "You must conserve your strength. The awakening has only begun. The visions will grow stronger—more painful. The mark may flare without warning."
Elara swallowed. "Will it hurt?"
"Yes," Mara said honestly. "But pain is the first language of prophecy."
Lucien's gaze sharpened, and something protective flickered in his eyes.
"Elara is not a vessel for prophecy," he said coldly. "She is a person."
Mara's expression softened. "And perhaps that is why the bond chose her."
Before Elara could ask more, a sound cut through the stillness.
A crack.
A wet snap.
Lucien stiffened instantly. "Someone is outside."
Mara paled. "They found us already—?"
"No," Lucien said, stepping toward the door. "Not priests."
"Elara," Mara whispered urgently, "stay behind me."
But Elara's mark pulsed violently—once, twice—like warning bells. Something was approaching the hut. Something familiar.
Lucien threw open the door.
A figure collapsed into the doorway, gasping for breath.
Elara's heart leapt.
"Th—Thalen?"
A young fisher boy from the village, barely fifteen summers, scraped with mud and trembling.
"Elara," he wheezed. "They—they took them."
Mara rushed forward. "Took who?"
"Villagers," Thalen choked out. "The priests came at twilight. They—they said if the Healer doesn't surrender herself, they will burn Lioren to the ground."
Elara staggered.
Lucien caught her before she could hit the floor.
"No…" she whispered. "Not them."
Thalen's voice broke. "They're tying the villagers in the square. They're going to make an example at dawn."
Mara pressed her fist to her mouth. "Bright spirits…"
Lucien lifted the boy easily and carried him inside. "Close the door, Mara."
Mara obeyed, bolting it shut.
Elara stepped forward, voice trembling. "We have to go back."
Lucien turned sharply. "No."
"Yes," she insisted. "Those are innocent people! They'll die because of me."
Lucien's eyes hardened—not with cruelty, but with fear she had never seen in him.
"If you return," he said, "they will take you. They will use your blood to open the gate. And when that happens, Elara—every soul in the kingdom will burn."
She shook her head fiercely. "I can't abandon them!"
Lucien took her shoulders gently, but firmly. "Elara. Listen to me."
She froze.
He spoke slowly, deliberately.
"The priests want you more than they want their revenge. They will not kill everyone. They only want to scare you into surrendering."
Elara's voice cracked. "But what if they do kill them? What if they—what if they hurt the children?"
Her mark throbbed painfully. She felt the energy rising again—hot, trembling, demanding release.
Lucien felt it too. His grip tightened. "Elara. Stop."
"I can't," she cried. "This is my fault!"
Lucien's voice softened. "It is not."
"It is!" Tears filled her eyes. "They came because of me. The children—Kael, they're going to—"
"Look at me," he said.
She did.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your life is not worth less than theirs. I know you want to save everyone, but if they take you, they'll destroy the world. You must let me do this."
She frowned, confused. "Do what?"
Lucien turned to Mara. "Stay with her. Do not open the door."
Elara's eyes widened. "Lucien—no."
He stepped away, reaching for the dagger at his belt—a blade etched with ancient runes she hadn't noticed before.
"I will go alone."
"No!" Elara grabbed his arm. "You said if one of us dies, the other will follow. What if they—"
"They won't," he said calmly. "They need me alive to reach you. But I can weaken them. I can buy time."
Her throat tightened. "Lucien, please—don't go alone."
For a moment he looked at her—not the healer, not the vessel of prophecy, not the last of her bloodline—but simply Elara.
And something in his eyes shifted.
"I am bound to you," he said quietly. "But that bond does not make me fragile. I have survived centuries. I will survive this night. And I will return to you."
She shook her head, tears welling. "Don't promise what you can't keep."
Lucien touched her cheek—not a caress, not romance, but something steady and grounding.
"I will come back," he repeated. "Because I am not done protecting you."
Her breath hitched.
He pulled his hand away too quickly, as if afraid of what might follow.
He turned toward the door.
"Lucien," she whispered. "Be careful."
He paused.
"Always."
Then he vanished into the night—silent as shadow, deadly as winter.
Elara watched the door close behind him and pressed her trembling hand to the glowing mark over her heart.
For the first time, the light inside her felt like fear.
And hope.
Bound together.