Vengeance

Chapter 7

A heavy silence settles over our small camp, the flickering fire casting long, shifting shadows against the towering trees. The air feels thicker than smoke, pressing down on us with a suffocating weight. Every pair of eyes is locked on Ewen and me—some filled with unease, others with suspicion sharpened into something close to fear. Their stares claw at my skin like unseen fingers, making the already surreal moment nearly unbearable.

It is Arianna who finally shatters the silence.

“What sort of magic was that?” she demands, her voice taut with restrained anger. The way she says magic is as if the very word might poison her tongue. “How could you dare cast such a thing—so easily—when you know it is forbidden? You put all of us at risk.”

Ewen does not falter beneath her glare. He meets her eyes with an unsettling calm, a faint smile curving at his lips as though her fury is nothing more than a passing breeze. “It is a magic that is necessary,” he replies evenly, his voice smooth and steady, “if I am to keep my master safe.”

The word master sends a ripple of unease through the group, but he continues without hesitation, as though the answer should be obvious.

“Now, if she is ever in danger, if she is harmed, I can reach her in the blink of an eye. No barrier, no spell, no force in this world will keep me from her.” His tone is serene, yet beneath it lies a steel-hard certainty, an unshakable conviction that makes even the fire seem to lean toward him. “And the magic we cast cannot be felt by others. We are untraceable in these woods. There is no danger.”

His words should have eased the tension. Instead, they sharpen it, carving new lines of fear into the faces around us.

I should be unsettled by the way he speaks—by the absolute certainty, the possessiveness hidden between each syllable. Instead, an inexplicable warmth blooms within me, flooding my chest like the fire’s glow. A reassurance I cannot name. Almost without thinking, my fingers drift across his arm, tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve, as though compelled by some invisible pull. His presence is magnetic, inescapable.

When he laces his fingers through mine, a deep sigh escapes me—content, unbidden.

The moment shatters.

Lettie stiffens, her lips pressed thin, while Elric’s jaw tightens, his knuckles white against the hilt of his blade. Even Arianna’s fury sharpens into something else, something rawer. She moves suddenly, grasping my arm and yanking me back from him.

A mistake.

A low, guttural growl tears from Ewen’s chest, vibrating through the ground itself. The fire flares with violent life before dimming abruptly, its flames bending as if recoiling from his rage. Shadows crawl across his face, stretching his features into something almost inhuman.

Arianna stumbles back, her eyes wide with terror, as Ewen’s body coils with restrained fury. His arm snakes around me, pulling me tight against him, his stance that of a predator guarding its kill. The air grows heavy, colder, and the soft glow of his eyes—usually celestial blue—bleeds into an endless void of black. Obsidian. Bottomless.

“Never do that again.”

His snarl rolls through the camp like thunder, his voice carrying the weight of a storm pressing against the earth. Even the fire crackles lower, as if cowed by him.

Arianna freezes, breath ragged, her face pale in the firelight.

I press my hand against his chest, feeling the wild, erratic rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. He is trembling—not with fear, but with the sheer force of the bond raging within him. His body is strung tight, like a bowstring about to snap.

“Ewen,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. “You cannot do this. You cannot scare my friends like this. Look at Arianna—she’s terrified.”

For a long, suspended moment, he does not move. Then, like ink dissolving in water, the black seeps from his eyes, fading back into their familiar blue. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, his grip on me loosening, though he does not let me go.

He turns his gaze toward Arianna, regret flickering across his face, softening the sharp edges of his features. His voice, when he speaks, is quieter, but still tinged with that primal undercurrent.

“Forgive me. A fresh bond is… difficult to master. It binds not only our power, but our instincts. When the bond perceives a threat—whether real or imagined—it reacts. Swiftly. Violently. When you pulled her from me, it triggered something I could not suppress.” His jaw tightens, as though the admission costs him. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Arianna does not answer right away. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths, her hand gripping Lettie’s sleeve as though anchoring herself. Lettie and Elric are at her side in an instant, helping her steady herself.

Lettie’s usual sharp wit is muted, her eyes narrowed not in sarcasm, but in raw suspicion. “And I’m guessing there’s no way to remove this bond?”

The very question makes Ewen recoil, his expression twisting as though she had spoken profanity. “Remove it?” His voice cracks with disbelief, but beneath it is something deeper, rawer—pain. “Why would you ever want to remove the bond? It is the only way I can protect her. It ensures I will always be by her side. That no harm can touch her without consequence.”

Lettie crosses her arms, steel in her voice. “And what if you are the danger, Ewen? What then?”

Her words strike him harder than any blade. He falters, lips pressed into a thin line. The firelight carves shadows across his face, and for a fleeting moment, I see something hollow in his eyes. Something that looks almost like shame.

But Lettie does not relent.

“We don’t know you. We don’t know what this spell truly does. For all we know, you could be nothing but an illusionist tricking her into believing you’re her so-called protector. For all we know, this bond is nothing more than a leash you’ve slipped around her neck.”

Ewen’s gaze darkens again, but this time it is not rage—it is resolve. He exhales, steadying himself. “Then I will swear on it,” he says, voice low but unyielding. “If that will give you peace of mind.”

The words hang heavy in the air, carrying a weight far beyond simple reassurance.

Elric and Lettie exchange a long glance, something unspoken passing between them. Finally, Elric steps forward, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his posture is clear.

“Very well,” he says.

Ewen inclines his head once, before turning his gaze to me. His eyes search mine, silently asking, silently pleading. Something tells me that whatever vow he is about to make is no ordinary promise. It will be binding. Irrevocable. Perhaps even dangerous.

And yet, in this moment, with the fire casting halos of light and shadow around us, I know there is no turning back.