My True Bond.
I groaned as the magic rushed to me on a wave, eagerly waiting to serve its master. Asha gasped slightly as she swayed, the exhaustion nearly bringing her to her knees.
“Do it, Ben,” she gritted between her teeth. Her palm sweated in mine as she fought to keep the Bond open and allow me to draw what I needed.
Unwilling to cause her further pain, I sent a tendril of magic from the tips of my fingers to latch onto the boulder. Deep-green tendrils of power—like the color of a pine forest—wrapped around the obstruction.
Sweat beaded on my brow as I forced the rock to return to rubble.
A resoundingboomsounded in the passageway, the force of it sending more dust and debris to coat the ground, as the rock disintegrated into thousands of parts.
Immediately, I released the hold on my magic, allowing it to snake back down the Bond to pool within Asha. She sighed as that piece of our connection closed.
“I won’t draw from you again. Not until you’re fully rested,” I said gravely. There were many things I would do for Faylinn, but risking the life of the woman I loved—of my soul’s other half—was not one of them.
“I know,”she whispered weakly through the Bond.
I tenderly brushed some of the new dust out of her flame-red hair as the air finally cleared enough for us to see a very disgruntled Cotton so fully covered in thick black dust that his coat was no longer grey.
Asha gave a tired chuckle before lacing her hand in mine, pulling me over the debris to the cantankerous feline.
“Lead the way, Cotton,” she said. The cat stared unblinking at her for a moment before bounding away, his tail swishing in the air, expecting us to follow.
Cotton paused at the threshold of a door no more than fifteen paces down the hallway. Instantly, he jumped on his hind legs to swat at the metal ring. It jangled against the wood as he meowed anxiously.
“Are they in there?” Asha asked, renewed hope lacing her tone.
Cotton continued to claw at the door and reach for the handle until Asha dropped my hand and grasped the metal ring. He immediately calmed and stood still, his bright yellow orbs trained on the spot where her palm touched the handle.
With an easy twist, Asha disengaged the lock and pushed the door open with a tired squeak.
As soon as a wide enough crack was exposed, Cotton bounded through and into the empty classroom, his paws leaving distinct marks in the thick dust.
At first glance, nothing seemed amiss. Desks were overturned and a few stones from the ceiling laid on the floor, but the room was relatively untouched.
At least until I spotted the shuffle marks of boots barely discernible through the newest layer of debris. Drops of blood surrounded the footprints, staining the dust dark red. Asha pushed her way into the room while I lingered outside, not yet ready to face whatever horror awaited.
Would I find Faylinn, my friend and ex-lover, dead?
Even worse, would I find the General dead and Faylinn wishing she could join him?
Everyone in the courtyard saw the General fall during battle, heard the broken keening cry that came from Faylinn as she flung her body atop his, protecting him with her life. It was no secret the love they harbored for each other, even if they couldn’t admit it.
“Oh!” Asha’s broken cry spurned me into action, my early fears left at the threshold.
I stomped my way inside, heart racing as I prepared for the worst. Nothing, though, could have prepared me for what lay in the classroom.
Asha stood still, hands pressed to her mouth as tears tracked down her dirty cheeks. The blood instantly drained from my face as I gazed at the two bodies twined together on the floor. Faylinn’s left leg was slung over Rohak’s torso, her head tucked into the crook of his neck as his right arm crossed over her waist. It was impossible to discern if they were alive or dead, and my heart jumped in alarm.
Blood and dust coated Rohak’s clothes until they were unrecognizable. His hair was matted with unidentifiable matter, his skin as covered as the rest of him. Faylinn was just as dirty, her black tunic and pants torn in places; fresh, just-healing slashes crisscrossed the white scars on her forearms. Her normally light-brown skin was sallow and sweaty, as if she was fighting a fever.
Maybe she was. The properties of Blood Magic were lost to the majority of Mages, and Faylinn used it in excess, consequences be damned.
I squinted with a slight frown at the sight of a new rune tattooed on her forearm, much larger than anything she’d inscribed before.
My eyes traced the pattern of it, and my blood ran cold in realization just as Asha gasped beside me.
We recognized it at the same time, a prickle of shared awareness overpowering our thoughts.
