Page 52 of Twisted Bonds

Her eyes narrow at the nickname, unsure if it's an insult but obviously too stubborn to ask. “I might surprise you,” she retorts, her defiance burning bright as the sunset streaming through the windows behind us.

“You constantly surprise me.” The words are out before I realize it, and I barely stop myself from clamping my mouth shut. The admiration in my tone is plain. Too close. Too personal. Too real. Refusing to make eye contact, I slide into distant nonchalance. “That’s all for today, Vessel.”

As always when I’m near her, the pink tinted magic swirls in my peripheral, disappearing just as I stand to leave. With a flick of my wrist, I wrap her in a renewed Dampening Shield to block her access to the source. But as I take a step towards the door, Mira’s fingers grab my hand.

“Tairyn?”

I almost gasp from the shock, as her warm hand seeks comfort in mine. “What is rule number four, Vessel?” I growl, turning on her with a snarl as I rip my hand away from hers. “Never touch me.”

But it's too late. I can feel it coming on as I stumble back, barely missing my chair as I fall onto the ground. I hear her voice, but it’s far away. I blink, squint, anything to keep the oncoming vision at bay. She touched me just as the vision begged for my attention. This is not good.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is more frantic now. I hear fabric rustling. She’s moving. But it’s too late. The vision hits hard and fast, slamming against all of my senses, the world around me fading away.

As always, it’s like looking into a spiderweb of possible futures, each twist and turn a unique outcome. Yet each strand glistens with Mira, a chain of destiny linking us both. I feel her before I see her, tainting every thread.

Now that I’m here, I have to watch. I have to see. The vision won’t release me until I do. No more running.

So one by one, I sort through them.

My attention is directed towards the one directly in front of me first. Although it has been incorrect just as many times as it has been correct – no, that’s not accurate. It’s never been wrong; rather, I have misinterpreted its message or failed to follow the necessary steps to make that future a reality. Reality itself is a tangled mess, with lives overlapping and twisting until it’s nearly impossible to make sense of anything. Despite this chaos, I know that these outcomes are both true and possible.

I just have to make the right choices to get to them.

My mind traverses down the first thread until a scene comes into focus. I’m standing in this very room, older with gray at my temples. The lines of my eyes show fatigue more than age though. Though the light inside me is there. The light of a man who is whole again. Soul intact. A smile creeps across my face. I did it. I can do it. The fire flickers with Malicryn’s voice throwing an order out as if I’m her hound, and-

I just take it?

I nod and write notes like a compliant school child taking orders from the teacher. No arguments. No taunting. I can’t make out the words, it’s muffled like I’m listening to a cup pressed against a closed door, but the acceptance in my slumped figure tells me enough. I’m broken even with a complete soul. No more than a tool to be wielded by others.

But what of the terms of our bargain? Is it possible that I’m never released? That can’t be…

I sneer at the image, pulling back to traverse a different line of choices. A different future, equally true.

This vision isn’t me at all. It’s Dan’thiel, holding Mira’s hand while they walk along the riverbanks in Valenfall. Cor’than’s banner still hangs over the keep, though. Curious.

They laugh at something he says, and she turns to swipe a fallen piece of his hair behind his ear. Something in me stirs with the subtle familiarity between them, and I slam my back into the top of the chain of events.

Is this my choice? To be whole yet a shell of who I am today or to be part of someone else? Those aren’t choices at all. Maybe I should let Yurghen break open the Great River. Save me from two deaths of self.

Another thread, another ending. More and more images flash, each more outlandish than the last. Times of war, times of peace.

All the Shards holding hands in a peasant’s kitchen, willingly merging back into Dan’thiel as Cor’than looks on with adoration. I almost laugh at the absurdity of that one.

Satisfied with what I’ve seen, I attempt to back out of the vision, but something is blocking me. I turn to see the pulsing pink dot down a particularly thick spread of a webbing. My eyes narrow at the demand.

With pursed lips, I comply, sending my mind down the long line of alternating choices. Moments from different lives I’ll never live.

A flash of an image. Mira is on top of me, riding me. Bonding me. The swirl of our mixing purples and red hues. We’re in a tall building, overlooking a city below which bustles with commoners, but it’s not a city I recognize. It’s human.

Another image flies by. The first Shard shakes my hand while I clap him on the back, congratulating him for a job well done.

Callum blows out candles on a birthday cake while the other Shards and Mira stand around and clap for him. Makes no sense, but okay.

Another image.

Mira’s gentle touch caressing my cheek, her eyes gazing at me with admiration, as if I am the most incredible person in existence. Her fingers trace the contours of my face, marveling at every inch. As I meet her gaze, I feel a warm rush of love and appreciation for this moment between us. In that instant, nothing else in the world exists except for our connection.