CHAPTER 16: BOND UNSTABLE IN COMBAT
1238 Words
The first sign that something was wrong came during a routine combat drill.
Lyria felt it before the alarm sounded—an uncomfortable pressure behind her ribs, like the Link Spark was twisting against itself. Not flaring. Not calming. Stuttering.
She paused mid-step on the practice field, fingers curling reflexively at her side.
Kairo noticed instantly.
“What is it?” he asked, low enough that only she could hear.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It feels… uneven.”
Before he could respond, the combat bell rang.
Pairs across the field snapped into formation, Sparks igniting in bursts of color. Wind currents rose, platforms shifting into staggered tiers. This was supposed to be controlled—predictable enemies, measured resistance.
Lyria didn’t feel in control at all.
“Stay close,” Kairo said. “No improvising.”
She nodded, forcing her breathing steady.
The first construct emerged—standard formation, slow approach. Easy.
Kairo advanced, Sky Blade forming cleanly in his hand.
The Link Spark surged.
Too fast.
Energy rushed forward without her intention, golden threads snapping toward his blade. The contact was harsher than before, the alignment rough instead of smooth.
Kairo stumbled half a step.
“Lyria—pull back!”
She tried.
The Spark resisted.
Panic flared in her chest, and with it, the bond spiked again—jagged, unstable.
The construct lunged.
Kairo barely blocked in time, his blade scraping dangerously close to his shoulder. The impact sent a sharp jolt through the bond, echoing in Lyria’s body like a struck nerve.
She gasped.
“That wasn’t right,” she said, voice shaking.
“No,” Kairo agreed, tension threading his tone. “You’re overcorrecting.”
“I’m not trying to,” she insisted. “It’s just—reacting.”
Another construct formed. Then another.
The drill escalated.
Kairo adjusted his stance, compensating, but the bond kept misfiring—sometimes lagging, sometimes surging too hard. Each fluctuation fed Lyria’s fear, and each fear fed the instability.
It was a vicious loop.
“Kairo,” she said urgently, “I can’t—”
The third construct struck.
This time, the Link Spark surged violently, wrapping around Kairo’s arm without her consent, dragging his movement off-balance. His blade skewed wide, missing the construct entirely.
The blow hit him square in the chest.
He flew backward, slamming into the edge of a platform.
Time seemed to stop.
“Kairo!”
The world narrowed to a sharp, terrifying clarity.
The bond screamed.
Lyria ran.
She didn’t remember moving—only the sensation of air tearing past her, the Spark flaring wildly as she dropped to her knees beside him.
“Kairo,” she breathed, hands hovering uselessly. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he said quickly, already pushing himself upright despite the impact. “I’m okay.”
But she could feel it through the bond.
He was hurt.
Not badly—but enough.
Enough that guilt crashed over her like a wave.
“I almost got you injured,” she said, voice breaking. “Again.”
The constructs dissolved as instructors rushed in, suppression fields snapping on. The drill ended in a chorus of alarms and sharp voices.
“Bond instability confirmed.”
“Pull them out.”
Hands didn’t touch her, but the space around them closed in.
Kairo stood, placing himself between her and the instructors without thinking. “She didn’t lose control,” he said firmly. “The environment was pushing her.”
“Intent doesn’t negate outcome,” one instructor replied coldly. “This bond is volatile.”
The word hit Lyria harder than any blow.
Volatile.
She pressed her hands together, trying to still the trembling.
“Kairo,” she whispered, “maybe they’re right.”
He turned to her slowly.
His expression wasn’t angry.
It was worried.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “But not by letting them label you and walk away.”
They were dismissed early.
The walk back to the dormitory was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on her thoughts instead of easing them. Every step felt heavy.
“I shouldn’t have relied on you,” Lyria said suddenly.
Kairo stopped.
She didn’t look at him. “I keep leaning on the bond. On you. And when it slips, you pay for it.”
“That’s not how this works,” he said.
“It is if I can’t control myself.”
Her voice cracked despite her effort to stay calm.
“I felt it,” she continued. “The fear. The moment I thought you were in danger, everything went wrong. What happens when it’s worse? When it’s not a drill?”
Kairo stepped closer.
“Lyria.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be the reason you fall.”
The words hung between them, raw and honest.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he reached out—not touching, just close enough that she could feel his presence, steady and warm.
“You’re afraid of hurting me,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“And that fear destabilizes the bond.”
She nodded.
“Then the problem isn’t your power,” he said. “It’s what you think you’re allowed to feel.”
She looked up at him.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to control the bond by suppressing yourself,” he said. “Fear. Attachment. Trust. You push them down because you think they’re dangerous.”
The truth of it stung.
“They are dangerous,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “Unacknowledged emotions are dangerous. Shared ones are stabilizing.”
The Spark pulsed faintly, as if agreeing.
She laughed weakly. “You make it sound simple.”
“It isn’t,” he said. “But it’s possible.”
They reached the dormitory bridge.
Lyria stopped walking.
“Kairo,” she said, heart pounding, “if I lose control again—if I hurt you—”
He interrupted her by stepping closer.
Too close to be accidental.
She froze.
“Then I’ll still be here,” he said. “Because that’s the choice I made.”
The bond reacted instantly—not surging, not faltering.
Settling.
The air between them felt charged, intimate in a way that made her breath catch.
She realized how close his face was. How steady his gaze remained, even now.
Her pulse quickened.
For one dangerous second, she wondered what would happen if she leaned in.
The thought alone sent a soft ripple through the bond—not unstable, but warm.
Kairo noticed.
His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
“This,” he said quietly, “is part of it too.”
“What is?” she whispered.
“The connection,” he replied. “Not just power.”
Her heart thudded.
Before either of them could move past closer—or pull away—a sharp chime echoed across the bridge.
Emergency signal.
Both of them stiffened.
The Link Spark flared—not chaotic this time, but alert.
Focused.
Kairo straightened, professionalism snapping back into place. “That’s not scheduled.”
Lyria’s stomach dropped. “Is it—”
“Yes,” he said grimly. “Nuller frequency.”
The bond pulsed, stronger than before.
Whatever was coming, it wasn’t training.
And this time, instability wouldn’t be a theory.
It would be tested in real combat.
- Writer
