Bergamot and smoke. Fire magic and something indefinably masculine that makes me want to burrow closer even though I don't have the strength to move.
Mihalis.
His name echoes through my mind like a prayer I'm not allowed to say. But it has to be him. Nobody else would smell like safety and danger all at once. Nobody else would carry me with this kind of desperate care, like they're afraid I might shatter if they hold too tight.
I missed him. Gods, I missed him so much it carved a hole in my chest that nothing could fill. Missed the way his eyes would soften when he looked at me, missed the rumble of his voice when he called me little thief, missed the way his hands felt when they touched me with something approaching reverence.
Missed Irida's laugh and the way she'd demand stories, missed the warmth of their house and the way the staff would sneak me extra pastries when they thought nobody was looking.
Missed having a place where I belonged, even if I was too scared to admit it.
But I'm so tired. So fucking tired I can't even lift my eyelids to confirm it's really him. The pain hasn't lessened—if anything, it's gotten worse, like my body is protesting the movement even though I'm not the one doing the moving.
Everything hurts. My head pounds in rhythm with my heartbeat, each pulse sending spikes of agony through my skull. My joints feel like they're full of ground glass, and my chest burns with every shallow breath. Even my hair hurts, somehow, like each strand is connected to exposed nerves.
The world shifts around me, voices murmuring words I can't quite catch. Footsteps on stone, the creak of a door opening, warmth that seeps through whatever thin barrier separates us from the cold outside.
"Please." The voice that speaks is rough, broken in a way that makes something deep in my chest clench with sympathy. "You have to help her."
Mihalis. Definitely Mihalis, though he sounds like he's been screaming for days. Or crying. Or both. There's a desperation in his tone I've never heard before, raw and unguarded in a way that makes me want to comfort him even though I can barely exist.
"Bring her here." A woman's voice, crisp with authority and touched with something that might be compassion. "Quickly now."
More movement, hands arranging me on something soft. A cushion maybe, or a bench. The surface beneath me is warm, warmer than it should be, and I catch the faint scent of incense and candle wax.
Temple. We're in a temple.
My mind struggles to process this information through the haze of pain. Why would he bring me to a temple? Unless?—
The soul bond. The connection that's been killing us both, slowly draining our life forces because we were too stubborn to complete what we started. The magic that's been eating me alive from the inside, demanding a commitment I was too terrified to give.
"Is it too late?" Mihalis again, and the fear in his voice cuts through me like a blade. "Tell me it's not too late."
"She's weak," the woman says, and I recognize her now. Jelle, the Nashai who examined us what feels like a lifetime ago. "Weaker than you, though I'm not sure why. The bond has been feeding on her life force more aggressively."
A pause, then the soft whisper of fabric as someone moves closer. Fingers touch my throat, checking for a pulse that must be barely there.
"We can try," Jelle continues. "But she needs to be able to withstand it.” I’m sure she can see how close I am to death.
"She will. She’s strong." The certainty in Mihalis's voice makes something warm flicker in my chest. Not quite hope, but close. "I just need to save her.”
The way he talks about me… Gods, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have ever thought this man could have been trying to use me?
"Heidi." His voice is closer now, rough with emotion. "I know you can hear me. I know you're in there somewhere, fighting this. You're the strongest person I've ever met—don't give up now."
Strong. He thinks I'm strong, when all I've ever done is run from the things that scare me. Run from him, from the possibility of happiness, from the chance that someone might actually want me for more than what I could steal or how well I could disappear.
"I should have fought harder," he continues, and I can feel him beside me now, his presence a warm weight that makes the pain recede just slightly. "Should have made you understand that this was never just about the magic. That what I feel for you—what we have—is real."
Real. The word echoes through my mind, bouncing off the walls of my consciousness like light in a prism. Is it real? This pull between us, this desperate need that's been growing stronger with every day we spend together?
Or is it just the bond, manipulating our emotions to ensure its own completion?
I don't know. Can't know, not when my thoughts are so scattered and my body is failing. But I remember the way helooked at me when I was playing with Irida. Remember the gentleness in his touch when he held me, the way his eyes would track my movement around his house like he was memorizing every detail.
Remember the way he said he wanted everything. Not just my body, but my laugh and my trust and whatever else I was willing to give.
Maybe that's enough. Maybe it doesn't matter if the bond started this or if our feelings are real or manufactured. Maybe what matters is that I don't want to die without knowing what we could be together.
