Vengeance

Chapter 8

Ewen kneels in the dirt, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he carves a circle of runes into the earth. The symbols glow faintly under the moonlight, pulsating with latent magic. The night is still, as if the forest itself is watching, waiting.

When he finishes, he stands and gestures to Elric, who steps into the center of the circle with him. The firelight flickers across their faces, casting sharp shadows that make Ewen’s otherworldly features seem even more unnatural.

Without a word, Ewen lifts his hand, and from thin air, a dagger appears—a beautiful yet deadly thing with an obsidian blade and a hilt wrapped in dark leather. The air around it hums with quiet energy. He grips it firmly and slices across his palm, crimson welling up immediately. Then, with a calm and deliberate movement, he offers the dagger to Elric.

Elric hesitates, his expression unreadable. Then, wordlessly, he accepts the blade and mirrors Ewen’s actions, dragging the edge across his own palm. Blood beads on his skin before trickling down his wrist.

Their hands clasp together, fingers tightening as their blood mingles.

Ewen begins to speak, his voice resonating with something deeper than the physical, something ancient and binding. His words carry power, wrapping around all of us like invisible chains.

“I, Ewen, star-bond to Calista, swear upon my very existence that I will protect my bond with my life. If ever I betray this oath, let Elric take my life as recompense.”

A surge of deep red magic spirals around them, wrapping them in an ethereal glow. The air crackles with energy, and Elric lets out a sharp breath, his eyes widening as a glowing red rune burns itself into the inside of his wrist. It fades, leaving behind an intricate mark etched into his skin.

Ewen releases Elric’s hand and steps back, inspecting his palm as if nothing had happened. “Will this suffice?” he asks, his tone even.

Elric flexes his fingers, staring at the mark on his wrist as if he can still feel the magic lingering there. Slowly, he nods.

Ewen wipes the blood from his hand on his cloak, but when I reach for it, intending to help, I pause. The wound is gone.

I turn quickly to Elric and take his hand, pushing up his sleeve. His wound has also disappeared, the only sign of the ritual being the rune on his wrist.

“How?” I murmur, eyes darting between them.

Ewen smiles slightly and gestures toward one of the runes in the circle. “I added a healing spell to the binding. I thought you wouldn’t like seeing your friend hurt.”

Something about the casual way he says it tugs at my heart. Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around him, pressing my face against his chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Ewen stiffens for only a moment before his arms come around me, his touch gentle yet firm. I smile against his tunic, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

Arianna steps forward hesitantly. She watches us for a moment before sighing and extending her hand toward Ewen. “I have no reason to doubt you now. I suppose that means I have no reason not to welcome you to the group.”

Ewen regards her with an unreadable expression before finally shaking her hand. “I appreciate it,” he says, though there’s a lingering amusement in his voice, as if he finds the formality unnecessary.

Once the circle is wiped away, we all settle around the fire Elric builds. The warmth does little to chase away the weight of the decisions we now face.

“So, what is our plan now?” Lettie asks, glancing between us. “Where do we go next? We could try to find shelter in one of the cathedrals in Leastarn. They’re sacred ground—no one would dare spill blood there.”

I glance at her, then at the others, my heart twisting. “We can’t leave my mother here,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go back for her.”

The reaction is immediate.

Lettie and Elric both shake their heads, their protests overlapping. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Arianna interjects, her voice filled with concern. “The guards will be searching for you everywhere, and if they catch you—”

Her words cut off as she reaches across the space between us and brushes away a tear that I hadn’t realized had slipped down my cheek.

“There has to be a way,” I insist, desperation clawing at my chest. My gaze flickers to Ewen. “Magic?”

He meets my eyes, and for the first time since I met him, there is uncertainty there.

“It could be possible,” he admits. “But it would be dangerous. If your magic fails at any point, you will be caught.”

I lean forward, grabbing his arm without thinking. “Tell me,” I demand, my voice firmer than I intend.

The magic between us flares to life, a surge of power that crackles like lightning.

Ewen stiffens, his breath catching as he grimaces.

The moment I feel it, I recoil as if burned, my fingers flying away from his skin.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammer, horror filling me. “I didn’t know that would happen.” I scramble backward, my chest tightening.

Ewen moves faster than I can react, reaching out and pulling me against him. His arms tighten around me, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers,

“You have no reason to apologize. I will tell you everything you need to know about this spell so nothing like this happens again.”

Then, softer—so quiet I almost think I imagined it—his voice slips into my mind.

Although if I’m being completely honest…

A pause. A teasing edge to his words.

I rather enjoyed the pain.

My breath catches, and I pull away to stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ewen simply smirks.

And for the first time, I wonder if I truly understand what I have bound myself to.