Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The guards were waiting in the hall when she stepped out.

She paused in front of them. “Is there… somewhere I can go?” she asked quietly. “Outside, maybe? Somewhere quiet. Just for a bit.”

One of them turned without a word and began walking. The other fell into step behind her as she followed.

They led her through a series of long, echoing halls, then down a set of sloped stone stairs lined with glowing orbs in glass. The air shifted as they descended—brighter, softer somehow. And then they stepped out into light.

The gardens.

Emily stopped in her tracks.

It was massive.

A sprawling, walled sanctuary carved out of Viremoor’s ash-stained stone. Tall rock walls, easily thirty feet high, encircled the entire space, blotting out the outside world. But inside… it was like another realm entirely.

Gravel paths curved through endless rows of vibrant flowers and silver-leafed trees. Strange vines hung from lattice archways overhead, pulsing faintly with traces of sunlight. The scent was thick with bloom and earth and magic.

And in the center, resting like a crown jewel in the sunlit clearing, sat an obsidian gazebo.

It rose tall and smooth, its glossy black pillars catching the light in glassy shards. Twisting ivy curled around its base, white blossoms blooming against the darkness.

The guard gave a small tilt of the head, then stepped back to stand near the wall with his companion. Emily took that as her cue and made her way to the gazebo.

She stepped inside and sat on the low stone bench that circled the interior, the cool obsidian grounding beneath her. For a long time, she said nothing. Just listened to the breeze. Watched petals drift through the air.

It felt… suspended. Like this place existed outside of everything else.

Emily folded her arms over her knees, resting her chin lightly on them.

She’d seen so much in just a few days—pain, magic, violence, things she just didn’t understand and people she couldn’t quite trust. But Varis had shown her kindness. The little girl had survived. Caelan—

Her mind snagged on him.

The book still echoed in her memory, its colors and cruelty. A life stolen from him before it had even begun. And yet… here he was, building a kingdom. Saving a child. Standing silent at the foot of her bed like some ghost of guilt she couldn’t name.

He was power and threat and mystery all wrapped in one—and she needed answers. Not just about him. About herself. About this world.

She lifted her palm, watching it flicker in the light. If she was going to survive here—if she was going to help anyone—she needed to learn. To understand how this magic worked. How she worked.

A flutter of movement caught her eye.

Across the garden path, someone was walking toward her—tall, steady, purposeful.

Caelan.

His dark robes swayed with each step, his silhouette crisp against the pale stone behind him. Sunlight caught the edges of his curls, painting them with silver. He didn’t wear his usual scowl. Just a calm, unreadable look as he neared.

Emily’s breath hitched before she could stop it.

He looked… solid. In control. Strong in a way that had nothing to do with muscle. And for just a second, she felt herself admiring him.

She blinked hard and looked away, scolding herself silently. No. Stop that.

When he reached the gazebo, he didn’t speak right away. Just stopped at the edge of the entrance, watching her.

Emily glanced up. “How was your nap?”

He gave a small exhale. “Necessary.”

She swallowed. “I… think I saw you. When I woke up the first time. I thought it was a dream.”

His expression shifted, but he didn’t confirm or deny it.

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Emily looked away. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

Another silence passed between them, stretched by breeze and birdsong.

Then, carefully, Emily said, “Can I ask you something?”

His silver eyes flicked back to her. “You can try.”

She looked at him—really looked—and asked softly, “Your mother… what happened to her?”

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“She vanished,” he said. “Like the others.”

“Because of your Class?”

A pause. Then a curt nod. “They didn’t say it outright. But that was the moment everything changed.”

Emily’s chest ached at the quiet anger in his voice. She hesitated, then tried again, gentler this time. “Do you remember her?”

His eyes dropped slightly, gaze distant. “Only in pieces. Her hands. Her voice. The way she used to sing to me at night.”

Something in Emily’s chest cracked open. “She sounds… kind.”

“She was,” he said, voice lower now. “Too kind for the court.”

Emily rested her arms on her knees. “Mine was the opposite. Too kind for the world, I guess.” She gave a humorless breath. “My mom, I mean. Katelynn. She raised me alone after my dad nearly ruined both of us. Worked herself into the ground to keep me safe.”

Caelan was silent, listening.

“She would’ve loved this place,” Emily said softly, glancing at the flowers surrounding the gazebo. “Not the soul-bonded-to-a-dark-mage part, but… this garden. She never had time for pretty things.” She exhaled slowly. “I was going to buy her a house. A real one, with a backyard and lavender and… I don’t know, peace.”

He didn’t say anything. But the silence didn’t feel cold. It felt full. Like he understood more than he let on.

After a moment, he said, “You miss her.”

“I miss everything,” she whispered. “My world. My job. The noise. The smell of coffee.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I miss not being someone’s possession.”

His gaze flicked to her, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“I know I’m not a prisoner,” she added, quieter now. “But I’m not free either.”

“I never meant to trap you,” he said. “That was never the intent.”

Emily looked over at him. “No. But you’re still holding the key.”

His expression cracked for just a heartbeat—just long enough for her to see the guilt behind it.

“I didn’t think it would work,” he said. “The summoning. I thought I’d pull a weapon. I didn’t think I’d get…” He trailed off.

“Me,” Emily finished, voice dry. “Yeah. I figured.”

He nodded.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the hush of wind stirring the flowers.

Then, gently, Emily said, “You’ve built something here. This place. These people. Varis… she’d follow you anywhere.”

“She already did,” he murmured.

Emily tilted her head. “Do you ever regret it?”

He looked at her then. Really looked. “Every day. And never.”

The breeze stirred again. A few petals blew past, catching in Emily’s hair. She reached up and tucked one behind her ear, half-smiling.

Then, more carefully: “This bond. The mark. I need to understand it. I don’t want to keep reacting to things I don’t even understand. I want to learn.”

Caelan’s gaze was unreadable. “You’d be starting behind everyone else,” he said. “No training. No framework. No idea what you’re even capable of.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m not helpless.”

Another pause. Then, slowly, he said, “There are three known types of soulbonds.”

Emily blinked. “Three?”

He nodded. “The first is ceremonial—between partners. Mostly surface-level. It creates a link of loyalty, some emotional resonance. A wife might feel when their husband is in pain or hear their call from far away. But it’s weak. Simple.”

She gave him a look. “Okay."

“The second,” he continued, “is a weapon bond. Soulbound objects. That’s what I was aiming for. It lets you channel your magic through the weapon. Call it back to you from a distance. The bond forms a tether—a deeper connection.”

Emily nodded slowly. “So, what’s the third?”

“The traditional servant bond,” he said. “More rigid than the ceremonial kind. It creates a kind of instinctive obedience. Orders given are often followed reflexively, unless the servant resists hard enough. It’s rare now—used mostly by royalty or the old bloodlines.”

A beat passed.

“And us?” she asked, wary. “What do we have?”

Caelan’s eyes darkened. “That’s the problem. Our bond doesn’t match any of them. It has pieces of all three—but stronger. Deeper. You feel my pain. I feel yours. You responded to commands before you even knew me. You’re not a weapon, and yet…” He trailed off.

Emily swallowed, unsettled.

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” he said carefully, “we need to study it. Test the edges. Figure out what this bond is—because if there’s any chance of breaking it without killing us both, that knowledge is the only way.”

Emily wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the glowing ember on her hand. “So, I’m basically your magical accident. Bound to you by a link we don’t understand, tied to a world I didn’t ask to be in.”

“Yes,” Caelan said quietly. “And I’m going to fix it.”

She looked up at him.

He held her gaze, steady and sure. “I swear it.”

Caelan looked out across the garden, the light catching faintly in his pale eyes. “We can begin testing the bond first thing in the morning. And start your training then.”

Emily blinked at him. “Tomorrow morning?”

He nodded once. “I need time to research—make sure the conditions are right. And I’ll need a few materials.”

Emily tilted her head, crossing her arms. “What kind of materials?”

“Bindings. Sigils. Soul-mirror wards.” His voice was even, but something in it told her he wasn’t just being cautious—he was being careful with her. “Testing a bond like this... if we’re not precise, I'm not sure if it could trigger effects. I won’t risk that without preparation.”

She opened her mouth to argue—then closed it again, pressing her lips together.

“…Fine,” she muttered.

Caelan gave the smallest hint of a smile, more shadow than expression. “You’re not very good at waiting.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I’m really not.”

He inclined his head, then turned to leave. But just before reaching the path back to the keep, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Be ready. I won’t slow down for you.”

Then he was gone, dark robes moving like water through the breeze.