FATE'S BURNING BOND.

The night sky was burning. Not with fire, but with magic. Emma knew she shouldn't be here, sneaking through Halewick's crumbling alleys. But temptation won out, as it often did. A flash of silver lightning crackled above, a sign of forbidden magic. Every instinct screamed for her to follow it. By day, she was a healer's apprentice, but the truth was darker - she had the same outlawed power as the king, and she couldn't resist using it in secret. She darted between shadows, her boots making soft splashing sounds in the puddles leftover from the evening's rain. The air was electric with ozone, and the metallic tang of magic lingered. Her heart pounded in her chest. Whoever had conjured that silver light was nearby. Way too close. “Following me, little mouse?” The voice came from the darkness behind her, smooth as steel dragged over silk. Emma froze. She hated that nickname. She turned around slowly. There was a guy leaning against the wall like it was his own special throne. He wore dark clothes that looked worn out from traveling, but they still fit him really well. He had a cloak that made him look like a bad guy in a story. His jaw was super sharp, and his hair looked messy in a way that seemed perfect. But what was really weird was his eyes - they were a gray color like a stormy sky, and they sparkled with mischief. “William ,” she hissed, folding her arms across her chest. “I should’ve known.” “You sound disappointed.” He pushed off the wall, strolling closer. “Admit it—you were hoping to find me.” “I was hoping to find whoever dared break the law and summon light into the sky,” she shot back. “I didn’t expect it to be you. Then again, you always were reckless.” William grined, and it did infuriating things to her pulse. “We’ve been over this, Emma,” he said. “Reckless is fun. You should try it sometime, instead of pretending you’re just another sweet little apprentice mixing herbs.” Her jaw clenched. He knew her secret. A long time ago, they were really close friends, but then he betrayed her and left. Now, whenever he came back, she felt like hurting him. Or sometimes she felt like kissing him, but she definitely didn't want to do that! “You’re drawing attention,” she said, trying to sound stern. “Do you want the king’s guards to storm the quarter? Because if they do, and they find me near you, I’ll be the one rotting in chains.” William tilted his head, studying her with infuriating calm. “You always did worry too much. That’s why I’m here.” “Here to taunt me?” “Here to save you,” he said simply. She laughed, sharp and humorless. “Save me? From what—your arrogance?” But the way his expression flickered—just for a moment—made her falter. His easy grin slipped, replaced by something darker. “From what’s coming,” he said softly. “You felt it too, didn’t you?” She hesitated. The air was heavy tonight, charged with something more than storm clouds. A warning she couldn’t quite name. Before she could answer, a sound split the night. A metallic crash. Then another. And from the far end of the alley, armored figures spilled forth—six of them, torches blazing, blades drawn. The king’s wardens. Emma’s blood turned cold. “By the stars,” she whispered. “They tracked the magic.” William ’s grin returned, wolfish this time. “Good thing I like running.” He grabbed her hand before she could protest, tugging her into a sprint down the alley. Her protest came anyway, breathless and indignant. “Let go!” “You’d trip without me.” “I can outrun you in my sleep!” “Cute,” he said, dodging a barrel as a guard’s torch flame licked too close to his cloak. “But you’re welcome.” She would’ve yanked her hand away if not for the fact that his grip was warm, steadying. And infuriatingly comfortable. They ran through the streets of Halewick, dodging buildings and chimneys, until William suddenly darted into an old, empty tannery. They stumbled inside, panting, just as the guards' shouts started to fade away. Emma ripped her hand free, glaring at him. “You absolute menace.” “You’re welcome,” he repeated, smirk intact despite the sweat glistening at his temple. “You don’t get to play hero,” she snapped. “You’re the reason they were after us in the first place!” “Oh no,” he said, mock-solemn. “You wound me.” “I’d like to.” There was silence for a heartbeat too long. The kind of silence heavy enough to reveal the thunderous rhythm beneath her ribs. His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips, lingering, before he looked away with an irritatingly smug half-smile. “So,” he drawled, “still pretending you don’t miss me?” Her cheeks heated, which was exactly what she’d sworn not to let happen. “I don’t.” “You’re a terrible liar.” “And you’re still insufferable.” But there it was again—that pull, that dangerous tug in her chest. Anger mixed with something she refused to name. Before she could sharpen her tongue further, William ’s hand moved subtly, as if reaching for a dagger. His eyes went alert, all humor vanishing. “We’re not alone,” he murmured. Emma stiffened. She hadn’t heard anything, but the air prickled with a presence—cold, watching. Her palms warmed as magic threatened to spark there, betraying her nerves. A shadow shifted at the far side of the tannery. Then another. Figures cloaked in black, faces masked, emerged with eerie silence. Not wardens. Not soldiers. Something else. “William ,” she whispered. “I see them.” His stance widened, hand brushing the hilt of his blade. Seven figures. No torches, no clinking armor—just that same silver glow she’d seen in the sky, faint and pulsing in their hands. Magic. Outlawed, deadly magic. And for the first time in years, Emma found herself pressed back-to-back with William , her heart hammering with equal parts fear and adrenaline. Enemies, yes. Perhaps even fools. But in this moment, they were the only thing standing between each other and the darkness gathering in the shadows.