Page 62 of Twisted Bonds

“Meddling?” I ask. There’s no way for them to know. My eyes dart to Rynlin’s and for the first time our eyes meet. A flash of guilt spreads across his face.

“Do you deny touching the living world since you arrived here?”

I square my shoulders as I lift my chin. In my mind’s eye, I see Eyveriel’s sweet, smiling face. My big sister now looks like a mere child in my adult mind. An ache rips through me. Her soul floats in the Great River, waiting to be returned to the living when the Gods deem appropriate. Should Yurghen succeed, she’ll be lost forever.

And for a moment, another face slams against the barrier of my mind, bouncing around the edges of my awareness. A face that surprises me more than anything. Cor’than.

My only brother, the one who took everything from me.

One by one, the faces of friends whip into view and out again, those I’ve lost. Those I hope to find again one day. In another life.

“I’m not ashamed of what I’ve done. Of what I’m fighting for. I understand it is forbidden, but saving the souls of everyone who has or ever will be among the living is a cause I will fight for until my last breath.”

“And yet you influenced the living before you even discovered this threat.”

The comment hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. “It’s true. Initially, my intentions were purely selfish. I wanted revenge. I wanted to live again and take back what I believed belonged to me. But those goals seem childish now, silly to worry about with such greater stakes.”

The Head Councilman merely nods his head as if that is the correct answer. “Prince Dan’thiel, the council and I have deliberated and come to a decision. There can be no rule of law if there are not consequences. Your time here is running out. Your fragmented Soul Shards will either merge-” his tone makes it clear how likely he thinks that will be. “Or they will live out a maximum lifespan of another 50 years. At that time, your presence here will fade away. As such, you will live out the remainder of your time in our world, in the dungeons.”

A murmur of surprise ripples across those who in the room I hadn’t even realized were there. Rynlin’s head drops into his hands as two guards come to take my arms.

As the visceral shock ripples through me, my mind jumps into another familiar body. I’m no longer standing before the dais in a pseudo courtroom. I’m no longer even in the Otherworld. Two realities are split before me.

In one, the Otherworld. Time is moving at a snail’s pace. Everything looks foggy, like a pane of frosted glass has been set atop it. In the other sits Yurghen, now fully formed and presiding over his captured faelings like an evil king.

I’m in his mind, but he doesn’t seem to know. Can’t detect me. His face is scarred beyond recognition from the burns, but I’d know that rotten soul anywhere.

In a flash of images so clear, I understand what he’s searching for. Memories flood into my mind. His memories.

A young, handsome Yurghen stands prominently among world leaders, guiding their Chromatic journeys. A beautiful woman dressed in a traditional wedding gown, beaming at him. Disappointment as the mating bond fails to snap into place time and time again. An illness. Incurable. The woman withers away before his eyes. Emptiness. Darkness. Nothing but Yurghen alone as he walks into the forest and buries her with his hands. Research. So much research. Binding souls, Fae-led resurrection. But How? Malicryn seeks his help to punish her lover. Mira bound before me, screaming as I kill her mate. He sees me, Dan’thiel, reaching through her, channeling through her. Understanding floods him. The last piece to his puzzle.

The memories fade, and I’m back in my own body. The fog lifts in the Otherworld. Time resumes and the world beneath my feet shifts and shakes.

I pull away from the guards, who now wrap my arms in their grip, running to the dais. Gasps and shocked curses roar around me.

“Please! You have to help them. I know what he’s searching for. He has everything he needs. You can’t allow him to-”

“Enough!” The Head Councilman rises to his feet, clearly affronted by my break in decorum. The room hushes in unison.

“Our ruling is clear, concise, fair, and final. Remove him from my sight.”

A blast of air clamps my mouth and ears closed as I’m dragged through the room by the ethereal guards of the Otherworld. Around me, hateful glares from some and curious wonder from others follow me. The last pair of eyes I see before I’m dragged down to the eternal darkness beneath are pale blue and so very sad. I glimpse the fragmented light bouncing off a single tear running down Rynlin’s face.

thirty

Callum

I glance sidelong at the Shards around me as Tairyn explains what he knows of Yurghen. We’ve moved to a larger room, more utilitarian in its decor than the others, to accommodate our number. I can almost see their Chroma, their colors seeping through them. Even Tairyn, despite being shielded by Sunder, still has a shadowy violet aura around him. I feel it rather than see it. My bond with Mira is still so new, but already it’s a perfectly fitted glove. Her mood is tense, a little nervous perhaps. But do I know that because she’s got a white knuckled grip on the edge of the table or because I can feel it in my mind?

I poke and prod at the new sensation, desperate to discover the boundaries and limitations. It’s like growing a new sense, similar to sight or touch. It’s an invisible limb extending between us, a link. Yet it's a living, breathing thing. It reacts to my mental caress, like scratching your nails down a lover’s back. And then there’s something deeper beyond this link, like whispers of shadows. Two other invisible limbs, faint and faded.

My fingers itch to write my observations and record this amazingly complex bond between us, the likes of which have never been seen in the known history of Illuemera. Soul fragments create bonds with one another. This revelation seems so significant. I have to force myself to refocus on the conversation, despite my mind running to the Great Library of Azuryn.

As Tairyn finishes his tale about Yurghen breaking the Great River, the table falls silent. Maybe I’m crazy, but I swear distrust and hate are seething from Sunder. Bobble, however, feels more… neutral. Based on the glazed over look in his eye, I’m not sure he understands what’s going on.

I’m perched on the edge of a wooden chair that has seen better days, just like the rest of us. The table is rough under my palms, scarred from countless meetings, correspondence sketched out, and fists slammed in frustration or victory. Mira sits across from me, her brow furrowed as Tairyn paces beside the hearth, casting long shadows with each pass.

I should be pleased he’s pacing like a caged bird, the shield chaffing at him, but mostly I feel remorse. His face is turning purple already. His major injuries have been healed, but those small reminders turn my stomach. I’m not afraid of violence or confrontation. Not when it’s the right thing to do. I felt Mira’s fear and anxiety as if it were my own. It was right to intervene. It was right to take her away from here.