The violet portal no longer hummed.
It throbbed.
Like a living thing. Like a pulse trying to sync with Kaelan's heart.
He collapsed hard onto the stone, armor scraping, body locking in on itself as if something inside him had pulled the wrong thread and refused to let go. The emerald glow in his eyes didn't flicker anymore—it burned, steady and cruel, pushing back against the gold struggling to surface beneath his skin.
Elara dropped to her knees beside him without thinking.
Her palms hovered over his chest, unsure where to touch, afraid that if she pressed too hard she'd feel something crack that couldn't be mended.
"Kaelan… please," she whispered, her voice already breaking. "Stay with me. Just—stay."
His back arched violently.
A sound tore out of his throat, low and wrong, not quite a scream. The Devourer's fragment twisted through him, not shouting now, not threatening—but promising. Showing him memories sharpened into weapons. His mother's last breath. Havenwood burning. Elara screaming his name and finding him too late.
The bond flared.
Elara gasped as the pain slammed into her chest like a second heart trying to beat out of time. She clutched her amulet, pressing it instinctively to his sternum. The Whispering Star answered with a thin, trembling silver glow—weak, but stubborn.
"Fight it," she begged. "Remember why you chose this. Remember who you are."
For a moment, just a moment, the emerald receded.
Kaelan's eyes found hers.
Terrified.
Then Lord Gareth spoke—and the sound of his voice felt like a blade sliding between ribs.
"This is my fault."
Elara didn't look away from Kaelan. She couldn't. "Don't," she said hoarsely. "Not now."
But Gareth couldn't stop. His hands shook as he stared at the swirling sphere near the portal, the silver key inside it now stained faintly green, like rot creeping into polished metal.
"The safeguard was meant to lock the fragment away," he said. "Suppress it. Starve it. I thought—gods help me—I thought restraint would weaken it."
Kaelan laughed.
It was soft. Broken. And absolutely wrong.
"It doesn't starve," he whispered. "It adapts."
The Devourer stirred, pleased.
Elara felt it too—how the fragment was no longer pushing blindly, but learning the rhythm of Kaelan's resistance. Feeding on it. Strengthening every time he fought alone.
Gareth turned toward the tapestry above the portal, his eyes wild as if the answers might rearrange themselves if he stared hard enough. His breath hitched.
"There," he muttered. "I didn't see it before."
Elara followed his gaze.
The warrior woven into the ancient cloth wasn't stepping forward like she remembered.
He was turning away.
Two paths spiraled behind him—violet and emerald—and the key in his hand was angled not toward the offered road, but toward something unseen. Something broken. Something deliberately ignored.
"The Warrior of Two Veils," Gareth breathed. "He doesn't choose the path he's given. He chooses the one that costs him."
Elara's stomach twisted.
"And the figure in the portal?" she asked quietly.
Gareth swallowed. "A lure. Not the Watchers. Not truly. It mirrors intention. It feeds the fragment while pretending to guide."
As if summoned by the accusation, the cloaked figure lifted its crystalline hand. The sphere brightened—and shifted.
The vision inside it sharpened.
Kaelan stood tall, unbroken, the Cleansing Flame roaring behind him. No emerald. No pain. Power wrapped around him like a crown.
But his eyes were wrong.
Cold.
Empty of warmth.
Elara's breath caught. "That's not him."
The Devourer spoke—not to Kaelan.
To her.
It could be, it said calmly. You see the truth now. I do not lie to you, little star. I show you what is possible.
Kaelan groaned, his hand lifting weakly toward the sphere, toward the promise of relief.
"No," Elara whispered.
She turned sharply to Gareth. "You said there was another way."
Gareth nodded, face pale. "A crucible. Hidden. I was afraid to name it because it demands… sacrifice."
He pointed to the floor.
To the fissure they had ignored.
Elara didn't hesitate.
She grabbed Kaelan's fallen sword, the weight nearly too much for her shaking arms, and drove it into the crack with everything she had.
Stone screamed.
The ground split.
Not into darkness—but into reflection.
An obsidian mirror bloomed beneath them, rippling with warped light. Elara recoiled as Kaelan's reflection moved independently, its emerald eyes blazing as it reached for a chalice overflowing with black fire.
Kaelan screamed again.
The bond snapped taut.
Then—something changed.
The pain spiked too sharply, too suddenly.
Elara cried out as it flooded her whole body, dragging her closer, pulling her against him with merciless insistence. Her hands slammed flat against his chest, skin to skin now, armor burned away by magic neither of them controlled.
Gareth staggered back. "No—this isn't—"
"The bond is compensating," he realized too late. "It's trying to stabilize—"
Through intimacy.
Kaelan's hand fisted in Elara's cloak, fingers digging in as if she were the only solid thing left in the world.
"Don't—" he gasped. "You need to move—"
"I can't," she whispered, breath shaking. "It won't let me."
The bond surged.
Heat. Need. Fear tangled together until Elara couldn't tell which was hers and which was his. Her forehead pressed to his, their breaths mingling, the magic forcing proximity, forcing connection.
This wasn't tenderness.
This was survival.
Kaelan trembled violently, jaw clenched, fighting not just the Devourer—but the bond itself.
"I'm going to hurt you," he said, voice wrecked. "I can feel it—I don't trust myself—"
"I trust you," Elara said, even as tears slipped down her face. "Enough for both of us."
The Devourer watched.
And then—it spoke honestly.
You are the counterweight, it said to Elara, without malice. He anchors me. You anchor him. Together, you are… inefficient.
She stiffened.
Let me take the burden, it continued. Not from him. From you. I can teach you how to bend the bond further. How to protect him when he cannot.
Elara's heart pounded.
"And the cost?" she whispered.
The Devourer's presence curled close—not predatory. Almost respectful.
You already feel it, it said. Love. Fear. Power. I will not take them. I will sharpen them.
Gareth collapsed to his knees behind them, horror dawning fully now.
"I was wrong," he said brokenly. "The safeguard didn't end the threat. It crowned it."
Kaelan's eyes snapped open.
Emerald flared—then stopped.
Held.
"I choose this," he said quietly. "Not the flame. Not the promise. This."
The Devourer recoiled again.
Because this time—
It didn't know how the story ended.
The mirror cracked.
The portal screamed.
And the bond—dangerous, burning, alive—tightened around them both, not as a chain…
…but as a blade.
Night came without mercy.
No stars. No comfort. Just a bruised sky stretched thin over Havenwood, as if the world itself was afraid to breathe too deeply and wake something.
They were given a chamber carved into the old stone—meant for Watchers once, Gareth said. Protective sigils etched into the walls. Wards layered over wards. Enough magic to hold a siege.
It didn't feel like safety.
It felt like containment.
Kaelan sat on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows braced on his knees, staring at his hands like they didn't belong to him anymore. The emerald glow had faded, but not vanished. It lingered beneath his skin, faint as a pulse you only noticed when the room went quiet.
Elara stood near the doorway.
She hadn't realized she was guarding it until her legs began to ache.
"You should sleep," Kaelan said without looking at her. His voice was low. Careful. Like every word had teeth now.
"I will," she replied automatically.
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
The bond hummed between them—no longer screaming, no longer forcing. Just there. A wire pulled tight, vibrating with every shared breath.
Finally, Gareth broke the silence from the far corner.
"I will stand watch," he said hoarsely. "You are not to be alone tonight."
Kaelan's jaw tightened.
"I won't hurt her."
Gareth met his gaze, old eyes heavy with regret. "I know. That's what frightens me."
The words landed like a bruise.
When Gareth finally withdrew beyond the outer wards, the chamber felt smaller. Too intimate. Too aware.
Elara crossed the room slowly.
Every step tugged at the bond. Not pain—recognition. Like something inside Kaelan leaned toward her without permission.
She sat beside him on the bed.
The mattress dipped. Their shoulders brushed.
Kaelan flinched.
"Don't," he whispered. "Elara, please. I can feel—"
"I know," she said softly.
She did.
That was the problem.
When she rested her hand against his arm, the echo came instantly. His tension surged into her bones. Her calm bled into him like a sedative. It wasn't touch anymore.
It was transfer.
Kaelan sucked in a breath. "It's stronger."
"Yes."
"Different."
"Yes."
He turned to her then, really looked at her—and something sharp moved behind his eyes.
"You're not just stabilizing me anymore," he said. "You're changing."
Elara hesitated.
Just a heartbeat too long.
The Devourer smiled inside her mind.
Step one, it murmured gently. Listen before you act.
She pulled her hand back.
The bond protested.
Pain lanced through both of them—short, vicious, punishing. Kaelan gasped, fingers clawing at the bed. Elara cried out, pressing her palm to her chest as if she could hold her heart still.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't—"
Step two, the Devourer continued calmly. Never break the connection completely. Bend it.
Elara forced herself to breathe. To feel the bond—not fight it.
She reached for Kaelan again.
Slower this time. Intentional.
The pain eased. Not gone—but redirected. Thinned. Controlled.
Kaelan stared at her like she'd just rewritten gravity.
"How did you do that?" he demanded.
Elara swallowed. "I don't know. I just… listened."
That wasn't a lie.
It just wasn't the whole truth.
They lay down eventually—not touching at first. Space carved carefully between them, like a ceasefire drawn in chalk.
It didn't last.
Sometime near dawn, the nightmares came.
Kaelan jerked awake with a strangled sound, emerald light flashing violently in his eyes. The bond ripped Elara from sleep at the same instant, dragging her into the same vision.
Fire.
Havenwood torn open.
Kaelan standing alone amid ruin, hands dripping black.
Elara screaming his name—
—and then silence.
She turned toward him instinctively, arms wrapping around his torso as if she could anchor him through sheer will.
He clutched her back just as tightly.
They stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, breaths tangled, neither daring to let go.
"I saw it too," she whispered.
Kaelan's voice shook. "It's sharing dreams now."
"No," she said quietly.
He stilled.
She met his gaze in the half-dark. Her eyes reflected something unfamiliar—resolve edged with fear.
"It's teaching me," she admitted.
The Devourer's presence curled warmly around the words.
Step three, it whispered. Truth builds faster than deceit.
Kaelan went very still.
"Teaching you what?"
Elara didn't look away. "How to carry you when you're breaking."
Something in his expression fractured.
"That's not protection," he said hoarsely. "That's possession."
"Maybe," she replied. "But you're still here."
The bond pulsed—soft. Approving.
Kaelan closed his eyes.
For the first time since the chamber, fear washed over him—not of the Devourer.
But of what Elara might become trying to save him.
And somewhere deep in the dark between realms, the Devourer waited patiently.
Because the counterweight had begun to move.