For days they trained in the ruins. Serenya pushed Aric to his limits, forcing him to channel the bond.
"Feel it," she demanded, her hand pressed against his chest. "The flame is not your enemy—it is your soul, reborn."
Aric gritted his teeth, sweat pouring as he struggled to control the surge of power. Every time he called on it, the fire threatened to consume him.
"I can't!" he roared, collapsing to his knees.
"You can," Serenya said, kneeling before him. For once, her voice was gentle. "Because you are mine. And I will not let you break."
Her hand lingered on his chest, the warmth of her touch easing the fire. Their eyes met, tension sparking between them—something far more dangerous than battle.
Aric looked away first, his breath ragged. "You're playing with me."
"Perhaps," Serenya said with a smile. "But one day, mercenary, you will beg for this bond."