The courtyard was silent except for the faint ringing in her ears.

Vela stared down at him, at the golden fur matted against the dirt, the faint shimmer of the divine mark still burning on his chest. The world seemed to blur at the edges and her breath came shallow, uneven. Only when she looked down did she realize she was on her knees. Her wings had gone completely slack, draping around her in a pale cocoon. The feathers pooled against the ground like fallen snow, dull and limp with exhaustion.

Her mind, once a quiet and solitary space, now held something else. A warmth brushing gently at the edge of her consciousness, not intrusive, but undeniable. Golden, steady, alive.

Tenzin.

She knew he was still in front of her before she lifted her head. She didn’t have to look; she could feel him there. The pulse of his confusion, the echo of his disbelief. Her chest tightened, a knot of dread twisting in her stomach.

With shaking hands, she pushed herself back, putting distance between them the way instinct demanded. Her knees scraped the dirt, her wings dragging limply behind her as she rose. When she finally looked at him, the disappointment in her eyes was raw, but beneath it was something deeper, heavier. Devastation.

Even after weeks of effort, of near-tolerance, she had been tied to him. To the same kind of creature that had torn her world apart. Her body ached from the strain of training, but the pain in her chest was worse, like something inside her had cracked open and refused to close. She turned away, blinking hard. Her tears shimmered but didn’t fall, trapped in the tension between rage and grief. Her wings trembled once before sagging again, too heavy to hold aloft.

Around them, the other trainees had started to murmur. A few instructors hovered uncertainly, waiting for orders. The priests of Velmorra whispered prayers in awe of what they’d witnessed.

And Tenzin just sat there, stunned, breathless, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and dawning horror. He felt everything.

Her fear, her devastation, the cold revulsion twisting in her gut. The way her mind recoiled from his presence even as the bond refused to let her shut him out and it hit him like a blade to the stomach.

All his life he had imagined this moment, the long-awaited fulfillment of the bond the Order spoke of with reverence. He had pictured joy, connection, purpose. Instead, he was drowning in her hatred, and he couldn’t escape it because it was now a part of him. His chest heaved at the feeling.

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until he pushed himself up and stumbled back a step. The tears came before he could stop them, hot and angry. He wiped at his eyes, but more followed and before he made the conscious decision, his feet carried him away as fast as they could.

He didn’t think, didn’t speak, didn’t even glance at the instructors shouting after him. His feet carried him out of the ring, down the stone path that led toward the treeline beyond the keep. The cool air hit his lungs like knives, but he didn’t stop. He ran until the walls disappeared behind him and the scent of pine filled his nose.

When his legs finally gave out, he fell to his knees among the trees and retched, his breakfast spilling into the grass. The forest was quiet except for his ragged breathing. He stayed there, fists clenched in the dirt, shaking. Tenzin’s mind was a storm, not just his thoughts, but hers, bleeding through the half-formed bond. Her pain pulsed faintly in his chest, her tears felt like his own. He wanted to block it out, to silence it, but there was no wall between them anymore.

He pressed his forehead to the ground, fur brushing the wet grass. “Why?” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Why like this?”

No answer came, just the echo of her grief reverberating in his skull until it felt like it might split him apart. He punched the earth hard enough to sting. The tears that followed soaked into his fur, hot and silent. He had spent his entire life preparing for this; and now that it had come, he wished it hadn’t.

Back in the courtyard, Vela stood rooted where he’d left her.

She didn’t need to wonder where he had gone; she could feel it, the faint tug of something golden receding into the distance. An instructor called his name, but Vela knew before they spoke that he wouldn’t stop.

Her own knees felt weak, her pulse an echo of his racing heart. She tried to will the sensation away, but the thread between them pulsed in response, a tether she couldn’t sever.

When the instructor approached her, her vision blurred again.

“What is wrong?” the woman demanded, though her tone softened as she took in Vela’s trembling wings, her tear-streaked face. “This is an auspicious bonding. A fated connection — Velmorra’s own will.”

Vela shook her head violently, wiping at her cheeks with trembling hands. “I will not be bonded to him.”

“Vela,” the instructor said quietly, “you have no choice. Even if you left the Order, you will have this half-bond. Only death can sever it.”

The words struck harder than any blow.

“Half bond?” Vela repeated, the phrase catching in her throat.

The woman nodded, expression grim. “Yes. The bond is incomplete. He must touch you in return for it to seal fully. Once completed, your souls will mirror each other. You will feel his emotions, his pain, his strength, as he will feel yours. You will never again be separate.”

Vela’s gaze drifted toward the forest, toward the faint golden pulse at the edge of her awareness. It shimmered there like a thread of light, tugging faintly, beckoning her closer.

She didn’t want it. She didn’t want him in her head, or to live inside his, but the thread hummed softly, insistent. It whispered of connection, of power, of something greater than either of them alone. Her hands clenched into fists, she hated how alive it felt.

The instructor stepped back, watching her carefully. “Rest. The priests will examine you both when he returns.”

Vela barely heard her. The world felt too loud, her own heartbeat, the ache of her back, the echo of pain still fluttering faintly in her chest. She stared out toward the forest until the last light of day dimmed across the peaks. The golden thread shimmered once more, a single, silent reminder of what she’d done, and what she could never undo.

❖

Vela stood in the courtyard long after Tenzin had vanished into the trees. The crowd had begun to disperse, the whispers fading to a distant hum, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was the echo of him, the heavy, ragged rhythm of his breath somewhere beyond the walls.

The golden thread that connected them pulsed faintly in her chest, each beat tugging softly, insistently. No matter how she tried to will it away, the sensation lingered, an ache beneath her sternum, a warmth she didn’t want.

She should have gone to her quarters. She should have rested, or prayed, or begged the Grand Sahar to tear this bond from her, but her feet refused to move in any direction but one. Every time she thought she’d take a step back toward the keep, that invisible tether tightened; a pull, not from her mind, but from something deeper. He was hurting and she could feel it like a bruise in her own ribs.

“Damn it,” she whispered.

The path into the forest was narrow, half-swallowed by roots and brush. The air grew cooler with every step, the scent of pine and damp earth rising around her. It was quieter here, but not peaceful, the kind of quiet that pressed on the ears, heavy and expectant.

She found him in a small clearing just beyond the tree line. The grass was torn up where his fists had struck the ground, deep divots marking his frustration. His broad shoulders were hunched, his mane disheveled, the tremor in his arms visible even from where she stood.

For a while, she just watched from a distance… five careful feet, hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. The sight of him should have brought satisfaction. He looked broken, furious and lost, but instead, something small and stubborn inside her twisted painfully. The silence stretched long enough that her breath felt heavy in her throat until she finally spoke.

“Six years ago,” she began, her voice low but steady, “my parents were killed by your kind. Them, and everyone in my village — massacred by Leonin.”

He didn’t move.

“My mother hid me in a root cellar,” she continued, staring past him into the trees. “As far as I know, I was the only one who survived.” The words hung between them like smoke.

Tenzin had felt her approach long before she spoke, the bond pulsed in warning, a golden ache in his chest. He wanted to run again, to drown out the connection, but the thread refused to let him go. Her pain vibrated through it like a heartbeat.

He stayed kneeling, eyes closed, trying to stop the tears that refused to dry. Her voice struck like a blade, clean and precise. Each syllable made the air heavier and when she fell silent, he stayed that way for several breaths before finally pushing himself to his feet.

The grass clung to his knees. His tail hung still. The warmth that had once lived in his face, that easy openness she’d glimpsed during training, was gone.

When he turned to face her, his eyes were raw, rimmed red beneath the gold. The fur on his cheeks was matted from tears. His hand rose instinctively to his chest, fingers brushing the patch of pale fur where her mark now lived, right over his heart.

“I can feel it all,” he said quietly. His voice was rough, the words breaking around the edges. “Every ounce of the hate and disgust you feel for me.”

He met her eyes. Whatever courage it took to do so trembled in the air between them.

“I’ve dreamed of this day since I was seven,” he went on. “I’ve waited for you for almost my whole life…” His voice caught, then faded into a bitter laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh at all. “And this is what the gods gave me.”

He turned away then, taking several slow steps back, giving her the distance she wanted.

“I’ll speak with the Grand Sahar,” he said softly. “If anyone can undo this, it’s her.”

Vela’s jaw tightened. “Why and how they could make someone like you a guardian, I do not understand.”

The pity that tried to surface inside her was quickly smothered. It was easier to hate him, to hate what he represented. Her wings dragged against the grass, feathers bristling in agitation. Her nose wrinkled, her voice dripping venom. “Somehow I doubt this is fixable. I faced every obstacle to get here, risked everything, only to be bonded with a monster.”

Her hands clenched at her sides. The spark came unbidden; a flicker of orange light igniting at her fingertips, crackling softly in the dim light.

“I should put you out of your misery,” she said. Her voice trembled, but the fury in it was real. She raised her right hand, gathering flame into a pulsing sphere that lit her face in gold and red. Her pale eyes locked on him, sharp and wild. “Then we’d both be free of this leash between us.”

The forest seemed to hold its breath as the glow of the fire in Vela’s palm painted the clearing in gold and orange, flickering across Tenzin’s face. He didn’t move, he didn’t even flinch. The flames reflected in his eyes, twin points of light swallowed by sorrow. The tears came freely now. He knew she meant it. She wanted him gone, to never have to see him again, and it hollowed him out completely.

For a long moment, silence pressed between them. Only the wind stirred the grass, rustling the edges of her wings. His eyes followed her hand, the way the flame trembled as she gathered it tighter. He could feel her anger, her hatred, pulse through the half-formed bond, burning almost as fiercely as the fire she held. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” he said, the words dry and cracked as he took a slow step forward. “You’re right.”

“Maybe this is what you came here for,” he murmured, eyes downcast, “what I’ve been waiting for all this time.”

His hand rose to the string of prayer beads around his neck, the last thing he had of his family. His fingers closed around them as he muttered something in Leonin, the soft syllables carrying the weight of farewell. When he lifted his gaze again, his eyes were wet but steady.

“If killing me will help you, then do it,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing left for me but this, but if you do, you’ll be expelled from the Order.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the cold air. His expression was calm now, eerily so. The fight was gone from him, the light dimmed.

“Otherwise,” he continued, “I’ll speak with the Grand Sahar. If there’s truly no way to undo this… I’ll take care of it myself. You have my word.”

The flame in Vela’s palm flickered, guttering weakly in the breeze. She stared at him for a long time… too long. The firelight danced across her pale eyes, across the curve of her cheek where tears threatened but never fell. Killing him would have been easy. it would have been justice.

…It would have made her just like them.

With a small, trembling breath, she closed her fist. The flame collapsed into smoke, leaving only the smell of scorched air between them. Her gaze flicked to his hand, to the beads at his throat, the small token of a life she didn’t know but could somehow feel humming faintly through the bond.

This was her fated bond, her curse, and somewhere deep down, she knew that even if she rejected it, even if he died, the thread between them would never truly vanish.

“If there is nothing to be done,” she said finally, her voice low and hard, “then fine. You’ll make sure it ends.”

She didn’t cry, she’d spent her tears long ago. Her parents had died for nothing, the prophecy was meaningless. She wasn’t chosen, just an orphan with a broken gift and a monster for a guardian.

“Stay out of my sight,” she said, and turned away.

Her wings dragged behind her, pale feathers brushing the grass, her fists clenched tight at her sides. The sound of her steps faded into the trees until only silence remained.

Tenzin stayed where he was, watching her go until the last glimmer of her presence slipped from sight.

He knew she meant it, that she wanted him dead. His hands fell to the grass as the weight of it all pressed down. His stomach churned again, his throat tight. He whispered something in Leonin, an apology, to his mother, to his sisters, to the father he couldn’t save, to the brother who’d been left behind.

This was the fate he had earned. The punishment for every failure that had haunted him since boyhood. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how strong he became, the gods had seen fit to remind him what he truly was.

A monster.