Elara's POV
I'm dying.
Well, not dying exactly—I'm already dead. But something's wrong with the soul-bond. It's stretching too thin, pulling me in two directions at once.
"Darian!" I scream into his sleeping mind. "Wake up! Something's happening!"
He jolts awake in his tent, grabbing me instantly. "What? What's wrong?"
"I don't know! The bond feels like it's—"
Pain explodes through me. Not physical pain—I don't have a body—but soul pain. Like being ripped apart from the inside.
Through our connection, Darian feels it too. He gasps and nearly drops me.
"Don't let go!" I beg. "If you drop me now—"
The pain intensifies. I'm being pulled OUTWARD. Away from the metal. Away from the safety of the sword.
"Elara, your sword is glowing!"
He's right. Through his eyes, I see the Blade of Remembrance blazing with red light. The crimson edge burns brighter and brighter until—
I explode outward.
Suddenly I have FORM.
I'm standing—actually standing!—next to Darian in his tent. I look down at my hands. They're translucent, ghostly, glowing with faint red light. But they're HANDS. My hands!
"Oh my god," I whisper. Except it's not in Darian's head this time. It's out loud. My own voice. My actual voice!
Darian scrambles backward, eyes wide. "You're... you're..."
"Outside the sword," I finish. My voice sounds echoey and strange, like I'm speaking underwater. "I'm manifesting. I didn't even know I could do this!"
I try to touch my face. My hand passes through my cheek like mist. Okay, so I'm not solid. But I'm HERE. Visible. A person-shaped ghost instead of a trapped consciousness.
For the first time in three hundred years, I have a BODY.
Even if it's just a ghost body.
I start laughing. Or crying. Maybe both. "I can see myself! I exist! I'm not just a voice in your head anymore!"
Darian stands slowly, staring at me with an expression I can't read. Through our bond, I feel his emotions crashing together: shock, wonder, fear, and something else. Something that makes my ghostly form flush with embarrassment.
He thinks I'm beautiful.
"Stop that," I say, waving my transparent hand.
"Stop what?"
"Thinking I'm pretty. I can feel what you're feeling, remember? It's weird."
"You can see me thinking you're beautiful, so you tell me to stop thinking you're beautiful, which makes me think about how beautiful you are even more?" He shakes his head. "This bond is complicated."
Despite everything—the danger, the impossible situation, the fact that I'm literally dead—I smile. "Yeah. It really is."
We stare at each other for a long moment. He's seeing me as I actually looked when I was alive. Dark hair that falls past my shoulders. Gray eyes like storm clouds. The sad smile I never could shake even in my happiest moments.
I'm seeing him clearly for the first time too. Not through the haze of the soul-bond, but really seeing him. He's handsome in a broken kind of way. Dark circles under his eyes from too many sleepless nights. A scar on his jaw I hadn't noticed before. Shoulders that carry too much weight.
We're both so damaged.
"How long can you stay like this?" Darian asks.
"I don't know. I—"
Pain shoots through me again. My form flickers like a candle in the wind.
"Five minutes," I gasp. "Maybe less. The bond can only stretch so far."
"Then we should—"
"Wait." I hold up a ghostly hand. "Before I go back. Let me just... let me just stand here. Just for a minute. Please."
Darian nods.
I close my eyes and feel. Feel the air in the tent (even though I can't actually breathe it). Feel the ground under my feet (even though I'm not really standing). Feel the weight of existing in space instead of trapped in metal.
It's the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced.
"I forgot what this felt like," I whisper. "Having a shape. Taking up space in the world. Being visible."
"You're not invisible anymore."
I open my eyes. "Only to you. Nobody else can see me, can they?"
"I don't know. We could test it?"
Before I can answer, the tent flap bursts open. Nyx rushes in, her hands already glowing with defensive magic.
"I felt a surge of power—" She stops dead. Her eyes go wide. "What is THAT?"
I wave awkwardly. "Hi. I'm Elara. The sword. Well, the soul IN the sword. Currently manifesting as a ghost. Surprise?"
Nyx's magic flickers and dies. She looks at Darian. "Please tell me you see that too."
"The translucent woman made of red light standing next to my bedroll? Yeah. I see her."
"Okay. Good. I thought I was going crazy." Nyx circles around me, studying my form from every angle. "This shouldn't be possible. Soul manifestation requires decades of practice and massive amounts of power. How are you doing this?"
"I have no idea," I admit. "It just happened. I felt the bond stretching and then—pop—I was outside."
Nyx reaches out to touch me. Her hand passes straight through my shoulder. I feel it like cold electricity.
"You're not fully materialized," Nyx observes. "You're more like a projection. A ghost made of concentrated soul energy and—" She pauses. "—and you're pulling power from Darian to maintain this form."
"What?" I spin to face Darian. Through our bond, I suddenly feel his exhaustion. His energy draining like water through a crack. "Oh no. I'm hurting you!"
"I'm fine," Darian says, but he's swaying slightly.
"You're NOT fine! I'm literally feeding on your life force!" I try to push myself back into the sword, but I don't know how. "How do I stop this? How do I go back?"
"Don't panic," Nyx says calmly. "Just release the manifestation. Let go of the physical form."
"I don't know how to let go! I've been trying to have a body for THREE HUNDRED YEARS!"
Darian sits down heavily. His face is pale.
Panic floods through me. "I'm killing him. Oh god, I'm killing him just by existing!"
"Elara, breathe," Nyx commands. "Or whatever the ghost equivalent of breathing is. You need to calm down and—"
My form flickers violently. I'm losing cohesion.
"Elara!" Darian reaches for me, and his hand passes through mine. The touch sends a shock through both of us—a jolt of pure connection.
For one perfect second, I feel almost solid. Almost real.
Then I'm snapping back into the sword like a rubber band pulled too tight.
The world goes dark. Cold. Metal.
But different now. Because I know I can escape. Even if it's just for a few minutes. Even if it costs Darian his energy.
I can be a PERSON again.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into Darian's mind. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't hurt me. You surprised me. There's a difference."
Through the bond, I feel him picking up the sword. Feel Nyx supporting his shoulder as his strength slowly returns.
"That was incredible," Nyx breathes. "And terrifying. And impossible. Darian, do you understand what this means?"
"That Elara can manifest outside the sword?"
"That the bond between you is even stronger than I thought. Strong enough to create matter out of soul energy. Strong enough to—" She stops.
"Strong enough to what?" Darian demands.
Nyx hesitates. "Strong enough that separating you two might be impossible now. Your souls are too tangled. If we try to break the bond, it could kill you both."
Silence.
"We're stuck together," I realize. "Permanently."
"Is that so bad?" Darian asks quietly.
The question hangs between us. Is it bad? Being bonded forever to someone who understands my pain? Someone who's as broken as I am? Someone who makes me feel less alone?
Or is it terrifying? Knowing I might consume his soul eventually? Knowing he might lose himself to me?
Before I can answer, Garrett's voice booms from outside: "MY LORD! We have a situation!"
Darian rushes out of the tent. Through his eyes, I see the problem immediately.
A rider approaches. But not from the north or the capital.
From the WEST.
And they're carrying a weapon wrapped in cloth that pulses with dark energy.
Another piece of my soul.
Another corrupted fragment coming to find me.
"How many are there?" Darian whispers.
The rider gets closer. Throws back their hood.
My consciousness freezes in horror.
Because the person carrying the weapon isn't a stranger.
It's Elara Mercer. The baker's assistant. The woman who has my original body.
She's been possessed by one of the corrupted soul-fragments.
And she's smiling with an expression I recognize from three hundred years ago.
It's Morgana's smile.
Celeste's smile.
The smile of someone who's about to destroy everything I love.
"Hello, Darian," she says in a voice that's mine but wrong. Twisted. "My other self sent me to deliver a message."
She unwraps the weapon. It's the Lance of Sorrow. Its blade drips with black energy.
"Celeste remembers everything now," Morgana-in-Elara's-body continues. "She remembers killing me. She remembers loving it. And she wants me to know—" Her smile widens. "—that she's coming to kill me again. But this time, she won't stop with just me."
She points the Lance at Darian.
"This time, she's taking everyone I care about too."