Sera's POV
I woke up choking on blood.
My mouth was full of it, copper-tasting and thick. I rolled onto my side, coughing and spitting, my head pounding like someone was hitting it with a hammer.
The basement was dark. The candles had all burned out.
How long was I unconscious?
I pushed myself up on shaking arms. Every muscle in my body screamed. It felt like I'd been torn apart and badly stitched back together.
My palm throbbed with burning pain.
I looked down and my breath stopped.
The black chain mark covered my entire palm now, the thorny links glowing faintly in the darkness. As I watched, it pulsed like a heartbeat—but not my heartbeat. Someone else's.
The gray-eyed man from my vision.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no. This isn't right."
I scrambled for my mother's journal, nearly knocking over the empty bowl. My hands left bloody prints on the pages as I searched frantically for answers.
If the ritual fails, if the magic splits or connects to the wrong person—
My mother's notes stopped there. She'd never finished writing what would happen.
A wave of dizziness hit me. I grabbed the wall to steady myself, and that's when I felt it.
Anger.
Rage so powerful it stole my breath. But it wasn't mine. It was coming from somewhere else, flooding into my chest through the mark on my palm.
Someone was furious. Someone was confused. Someone was—
Scared.
The emotions cut off suddenly, like a door slamming shut. But I could still feel the presence on the other end of this connection. Distant but real. Alive and awake and just as trapped as me.
I pressed my bleeding palm against my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.
Think, Sera. What did the journal say about bonds?
I flipped through pages with shaking fingers, searching for anything about blood connections. There—a small section near the back.
Blood-bonds are ancient magic, created to link warriors in battle or lovers in marriage. They share pain, emotions, sometimes even thoughts. The bond cannot be broken except by death. If one dies, both die.
Both die.
My stomach dropped.
I'd accidentally created a permanent bond with a complete stranger. Our lives were connected now. Forever. And if one of us died—
We both died.
"What have I done?" My voice cracked. "What have I done?"
Footsteps thundered overhead.
I froze, listening. More footsteps. Heavy boots. At least four people, maybe more.
The guards had found me.
"Search everything!" a man shouted. "Lord Theron wants her alive, but if she resists, you have permission to hurt her."
I stuffed the journal inside my shirt and looked around frantically for a way out. The basement had no windows, only one set of stairs leading up to the shop.
I was trapped.
The shop door crashed open above me. Wood splintered. Glass shattered.
"Down here!" someone yelled. "I see a light!"
No time. I blew out the last candle stub and pressed myself into the darkest corner, hardly breathing.
Boots stomped down the stairs. Torchlight flooded the basement.
"Empty," a guard said. "Just candles and—wait. Blood. Fresh blood."
"She was here. Search every inch."
I held perfectly still as they moved around the room. One guard walked right past me, so close I could smell the leather of his uniform.
"Nothing. She must have run."
"Check the streets. She can't have gone far."
They climbed back up the stairs. I waited until I heard the shop door close before I dared to breathe.
But I couldn't stay here. They'd come back with more men, more torches. They'd search until they found me.
I had to run. Again.
I crept up the stairs, listening carefully. The shop was destroyed—bottles smashed, shelves overturned. They'd torn apart everything I owned looking for me.
I slipped out the back door into the alley.
The streets were still dark—maybe an hour before dawn. I had no plan, no money, nowhere to go. Just my mother's journal and a cursed mark on my hand that connected me to a stranger.
And Finn. Tomorrow was his execution. Tomorrow, and I'd failed to save him.
I'd failed at everything.
I stumbled down the alley, tears blurring my vision. I didn't know where I was going. Away. Just away.
That's when the pain hit.
It started in my chest—a sharp, sudden agony like a knife between my ribs. I gasped and fell against the wall.
Not my pain. His pain.
The man I was bonded to—he was hurt. Badly.
I felt his shock, his determination, his cold fury. And underneath it all, bone-deep exhaustion. Like he'd been in pain for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like to not hurt.
Who are you? I thought desperately. Where are you?
The pain faded to a dull ache. But I could still feel him there, a constant presence in the back of my mind. Awake. Alert.
Hunting something.
Or someone.
A terrible thought occurred to me.
What if I'd bonded with someone dangerous? A criminal? A killer?
What if the ritual had connected me to the worst possible person in the entire empire?
I looked at the chain mark on my palm, glowing softly in the pre-dawn light.
"Who are you?" I whispered to the empty alley.
The mark pulsed once in response.
And somewhere in the city, I felt him wondering the exact same thing about me.
I walked for hours, staying in shadows, avoiding main streets. By the time the sun rose, I was exhausted and lost in a part of the city I didn't recognize.
The morning bells began to ring.
One day left. One day until Finn's execution.
I leaned against a wall, sliding down until I sat on the cold ground. My palm still throbbed. The bond still hummed with the stranger's presence.
I'd tried to save my brother and instead cursed myself.
Maybe the mysterious woman was right. Blood magic always had a price.
I just hadn't realized the price would be my freedom.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up, expecting guards. Expecting arrest.
Instead, I saw a boy about Finn's age, wearing the red uniform of a Citadel messenger. He held out a sealed letter.
"Sera Ashveil?"
My blood went cold. How did he know my name?
"Lord Theron sends a message," the boy said. "He'll make you a deal."
I took the letter with shaking hands. The boy disappeared before I could ask questions.
I broke the seal and read:
Dear Niece,
By now you know your little ritual failed. Your brother still hangs tomorrow at noon in the Grand Plaza. But I'm a reasonable man. I'll offer you a choice.
Turn yourself in by sunset today, and I'll let Finn live. He'll be exiled from the empire instead of executed. You'll take his place on the gallows.
Refuse, and you'll watch him die slowly. Very slowly. And then I'll hunt you down anyway.
The choice is yours. Family should stick together, after all.
Your loving Uncle Theron
The letter fell from my numb fingers.
He was giving me a choice: my life for Finn's.
Everything I'd tried to do with the ritual—he was offering it now. A simple trade. My death for my brother's freedom.
The mark on my palm burned suddenly, searingly hot.
Through the bond, I felt the stranger's sharp attention. He'd felt something. My fear. My desperation.
My decision.
Because I'd already made it, hadn't I?
I'd trade my life for Finn's in a heartbeat. That's what big sisters did. That's what family meant.
But there was one problem now.
If I died, the stranger I was bonded to would die too.
An innocent person would die because of my choice. Someone I'd accidentally trapped in my fate.
I stared at the black chain mark on my palm.
What was I supposed to do?
Save my brother and kill an innocent stranger?
Or let Finn die to save someone I didn't even know?
The morning sun climbed higher. The execution was set for tomorrow at noon.
I had less than twenty-four hours to decide who would live and who would die.
And no matter what I chose, I'd have blood on my hands.