CHAPTER 6: The Binding Sigil
858 Words
She didn’t sleep.
Again.
She couldn’t stop staring at the mirror—even though it now looked ordinary. No ripples. No Kael. Just her own pale reflection and the mark glowing beneath her collarbone like it was mocking her.
But she couldn’t get the page out of her head.
The first flame awakens desire.
The second, power.
The third... blood.
Desire had already happened.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt him. Kael. Every time he appeared, something inside her stirred. Not just fear. Not just confusion.
Hunger.
The next morning, Mira dragged her to the library under the pretense of a school project. Rene followed, distracted, heart racing every time her fingers brushed against the pocket where she hid the page Kael had left.
“Okay,” Mira said, tossing three dusty books on the table. “Let’s pretend we’re normal for ten minutes. Maybe we’ll learn something that doesn’t give us nightmares.”
Rene didn’t argue. She flipped open the top book—“Myths of the Infernal Courts”—and nearly dropped it.
Because the page she landed on…
Had the exact symbol from her mark.
Not similar.
Exact.
Sharp circle of thorns. Flame at the center. And something else this version had—a name.
The Binding Sigil of the Scarlet-Bound One.
Below it:
Used in ancient courtship and power rituals between highborn infernals and their tethered soulmates. It cannot be erased once lit by the blood moon.
Rene’s mouth went dry.
Mira leaned over her shoulder and froze. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Rene didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
The page continued:
The mark is a living pact. Once placed, it will link the soul to its source across realms, time, and death. Only the bonded can see the full truth—and only after the second flame.
Mira sat down slowly. “This is real.”
“I told you it was.”
“Yeah, but I thought maybe you were just traumatized.”
Rene looked at her, almost laughing. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean—you know how people get? With grief? You lose your mom, weird stuff starts happening, and your brain builds a story to make sense of it.”
“This is more than a story.”
“I know that now.” Mira leaned closer. “But Rene… this thing, this Kael guy? What if he’s not telling you everything? What if the mark isn’t just about fate or love or—whatever. What if it’s a trap?”
Rene didn’t want to hear that.
But part of her already believed it.
Kael never answered things directly.
He appeared, spoke in riddles, disappeared.
And yet—he’d fought for her. Risked something to reach her. Left her pieces of the puzzle.
What trap gives you the key?
Unless it wants you to use it…
Rene flipped to the next page of the book.
It showed a mirror.
Not just a regular one—a Veil Mirror.
Used by the Abyss-born to communicate with the Scarlet-Bound across dimensions.
Mirror portals are one of few gateways between the waking world and the lower realms. Once a bond awakens, the mirror remembers the soul it was meant to reflect.
Rene shivered.
Her mirror didn’t show her anymore.
It showed him.
Later that night, back in her room, Rene stood in front of it again.
Waiting.
The mirror didn’t move.
Didn’t ripple.
She tried to walk away.
That’s when it whispered—
“Rene.”
Kael’s voice. Low. Soft. Dangerous.
She turned around.
But the mirror still showed only her.
“You’re scared,” the voice said. “You should be.”
She stepped closer. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“Why you died.”
Rene’s hands trembled. “Stop playing games.”
The glass flickered—and his face appeared.
But it wasn’t like before.
There was blood on his jaw.
A cut across his cheek.
His eyes weren’t glowing—they were tired.
“They’re coming again. The hunters. You need to be ready.”
“How?”
“The second flame.”
“What is the second flame?”
“It’s already inside you,” he said. “You’ll feel it soon. Don’t fight it.”
Then the mirror cracked.
Not shattered—just one long fracture down the middle, like a scar.
Kael was gone.
Rene stood there, breathing fast.
In the silence, she heard something else.
Her name.
From inside her closet.
Whispered like a breath.
She opened the door.
Nothing.
Then she looked down—
And saw footprints.
Black ash.
Leading to the far wall of the closet.
The mark on her skin began to burn.
She stepped back.
Her room felt like it had shifted.
Like the walls were watching.
She slammed the closet shut.
Locked it.
Then sat on her bed, gripping the old page and whispering to herself:
“I’m not crazy. I’m not.”
But the mirror just sat there.
Smiling back at her.
- Writer
