Each morning, she disappeared with Lyralei into the forest. Each evening, she returned with eyes a bit clearer, more focused. Her previously uncontrollable power, which had almost disintegrated reality, flowed smoothly without abrasion, fully contained within the boundaries Seris had set.
I felt the difference when she stood near me. Her speech, posture, actions, and power were no longer reflexive but deliberate.
Her improvements affected our soul bond as well. The use of her powers no longer drained years from my life. The bond had stabilized. I felt my body returning to a state I had almost forgotten.
Kael noticed. “You look less dead.”
“Encouraging.”
“For you? Definitely.” He sprawled on the cushions in our shared lodging, weapon maintenance spread across the low table. “Means we might actually survive whatever comes next.”
“Optimism doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re right, and I’m not being optimistic at the moment. I’m simply stating the reality we face. The last time I remember you this healthy was when your father dragged your scrawny ass into my training grounds.” He ran an oiled cloth along his blade with familiar precision.
“I was eight.”
“I know what I said.” Kael set the blade aside as he laughed, reaching for another. “I don’t have a shred of magic in me, but Seris seems different too. I normally see this kind of change in a person only after they’ve finished basic training.”
Kael had trained countless young boys and men. He turned them into soldiers my father could use to carry out his malicious will. Kael had seen many of his disciples die in the process, a pain he hid, one only I had witnessed. Almost all the friends I had trained with under Kael were not dead and buried; they were fighting a war and carrying out missions in which they had no personal stake.
“She’ll be ready,” I declared.
“Hopefully. Even if she isn’t, it’s okay. There have been one or two I’ve trained who were ready for their first mission, and you weren’t one of them.”
He was right. I could still remember my hands shaking uncontrollably and wetting my pants just before my first mission.
“Mm,” I grunted.
Training sessions grew more demanding. Seris stopped returning with only exhaustion written across her features. Both frustration and determination joined the fray. She stoppedasking when she would stop simply breathing and started questioning why each exercise mattered.
Progress.
I kept my distance during those hours. Lyralei made it clear my presence disrupted Seris’s focus, and given our connection, I couldn’t argue. Though I understood, staying away was difficult. In the past couple of weeks, Seris and I had grown used to each other’s presence, the quiet pull between us. Watching her walk away each morning was its own kind of torment.
I was an assassin and a soldier. Discipline was second nature to me. But Seris unraveled that control in ways I hadn’t anticipated. There was something about her. Her grace, her strength, the way she carried herself with both softness and fire, drew me in completely. It wasn’t just desire. It was something deeper. More dangerous.
It was becoming an addiction I had very little control over.
Memories of her lingered in ways that made it difficult to focus. The sound of her voice. The shape of her curves. The way she reacted to my touch. The quiet moments where her guard slipped and something real surfaced beneath it all.
Since she was training and needed consistency, Lyralei had forced a conversation neither of us wanted to have. Yesterday, she insisted we pause the progression of whatever this was between us.
That meant distance. Restraint.
And every night, I fought myself to maintain it.
“You okay?” Kael asked.
I snapped back to the present. “I’m not sure,” I replied.
“What do you mean? You feeling the curse again?” Kael’s expression sharpened.
“No. Not the curse. Just… distracted.”
Kael studied me. As my chosen brother and trainer, he could read me better than anyone alive. Normally, nothing slippedpast him. This time, he missed it. Good. I wasn’t interested in sharing any of this.
I wasn’t obsessive by nature. But when something mattered to me, I didn’t let go easily.
