The night had grown still.
Elara knelt beside Darius, her trembling hands pressed against his chest. His pulse fluttered weakly beneath her fingers—slow, fading. The wound across his ribs shimmered with dark smoke, bleeding shadows instead of blood.
"Stay with me," she whispered. "Don't you dare die."
He didn't answer. His breathing was ragged, shallow.
Panic surged through her. She remembered how his power had wrapped around hers, how it had nearly destroyed them both. Now that same force was draining him, consuming him from within.
"Think," she muttered. "There has to be a way…"
Her mark pulsed—one sharp, bright flash that cut through the dark.
Then, as if guided by instinct, she pressed her glowing wrist against his wound.
The light burst through her skin, spilling into his. For a moment, pain seared up her arm—but she didn't pull away. The mark on her wrist flared like a living flame, and beneath her hand, Darius's shadow began to fade, replaced by warmth.
His body arched; his breath returned in a gasp.
Elara felt it too—a rush of heat, a spark that wasn't just magic but something deeper, older. She saw flashes in her mind: wings unfolding in darkness, a sword raised under moonlight, a promise whispered long before she was born.
Then everything went still.
When she opened her eyes, Darius was staring at her. His gaze—usually so guarded—was raw, startled.
"What did you do?" he rasped.
"I—I don't know," she whispered. "I just wanted to save you."
He pushed himself up slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "You shouldn't have touched me."
Elara frowned. "You would have died!"
"Maybe I should have," he said bitterly, then froze as the mark on her wrist began to glow again—this time in rhythm with the pulse at his throat.
They both felt it.
A hum, deep and ancient, connecting their heartbeats.
Elara gasped. "What's happening?"
Darius looked almost afraid. "The bond."
"The… what?"
"The Bonded Curse," he said quietly. "It's forbidden magic—older than the Veil itself. When one marked soul heals another, their fates entwine. Your life is now tied to mine."
Elara blinked, stunned. "Tied? How tied?"
"If I bleed, you bleed," he said softly. "If I fall… you fall with me."
Her breath caught. The realization hit like thunder. "No. That can't be—there has to be a way to undo it!"
He shook his head. "Not unless one of us dies."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile.
Then, slowly, Darius reached out and brushed his fingers across her wrist where the silver mark still glowed faintly. His touch was warm, careful—almost reverent.
"You should have let me go," he said.
Elara met his eyes. "I couldn't."
For a moment, something unspoken passed between them—something stronger than fear, older than magic.
The air around them shimmered, the Veil whispering their names like a promise and a warning.
And somewhere in the distance, the Shadow Court felt the bond awaken—
and began to move.
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✨ End of Chapter 6 ✨