Chapter 3 Mihalis
MIHALIS
The divine magic pressing against my will feels like chains forged from starlight—beautiful, unbreakable, and absolutely infuriating. I've spent years mastering my own power, building an empire from shadow and flame, and now some cosmic force thinks it can dictate my choices?
Fuck that.
If I can't kill her, and letting her walk away would make me look weak in front of my entire establishment, then there's only one option left. The realization crystallizes with the kind of clarity that comes from desperation and rage.
I need to find out what the fuck is going on.
I move before she can react, one arm sweeping behind her knees while the other circles her waist. She's lighter than expected, her lean frame folding against my shoulder as I lift her from the ground in one fluid motion.
"What the—put me down!" Her fists pound against my back, but the blows barely register through the fury burning beneath my skin.
"You unfortunately have my attention now." I adjust my grip, making sure she's secure before pushing through the crowd. Bodies part around us, faces turning with the kind of morbid curiosity that accompanies violence. "Time to put an end to your little game.”
And hopefully whatever is keeping me from doling out punishment.
Her struggles intensify as I approach the exit, legs kicking with surprising strength for someone her size. A few well-placed strikes find the gaps in my ribs, sharp enough to sting but nowhere near enough to make me release her. The human thief has fire, I'll give her that.
"Grix." I catch my head of security's attention as we reach the main doors. His gray eyes take in the situation without surprise—he's seen me handle problems before, though usually with more permanent solutions.
"Boss?"
"I'll be back later." The words taste like ash, admission that this particular problem can't be solved with simple violence. "Handle the delegation scheduling for me."
He nods, already moving to open the door.
The winter air hits us like a blade, sharp enough to make the human on my shoulder gasp and curl tighter against my warmth.
Her burgundy dress offers little protection against New Solas's climate, another piece of evidence that she's not from here, not built for our world.
But the cold doesn't explain why she stops struggling, why her body goes still against mine as we step onto the snow-dusted street. I can feel her breathing, quick and shallow, can sense the way she's cataloging our surroundings for escape routes that don't exist.
The Temple of Solis rises before us like a mountain of white marble and gold veining, its twin spires reaching toward stars that seem dimmer in its presence.
Divine magic radiates from its walls in waves that make my wings twitch with recognition and unease.
This is the last place I wanted to bring my problems, but divine interference requires divine explanation.
"Where are you taking me?" Her voice is steadier now, though I can feel tension coiled through every line of her body.
"Somewhere with answers." I push through the temple's massive doors, my boots echoing against marble floors inlaid with precious metals. "Unless you'd prefer I throw you to the city guard instead."
The threat is empty. Especially because now that I have felt the magic between us, I can’t ignore that. I need to know what is happening, even if it means seeking help I'd rather avoid.
But she doesn’t need to know all my intentions.
The temple's interior stretches around us like a cathedral of living light, enchanted flames dancing in alcoves carved from single blocks of marble.
Everything here speaks of power older than the city, older than the current political structures that keep New Solas functioning.
This place remembers when xaphan served gods rather than governing them.
"Jelle." My voice carries across the empty space, echoing off vaulted ceilings painted with scenes of divine intervention. "I need consultation."
A figure emerges from the shadows near the altar, robes the color of sunrise flowing around her as she approaches.
Jelle has served this temple since before Irida was born, her silver wings marked with the gold threading that identifies her as Nashai—one of the priestess-caste who handles matters too delicate for ordinary clergy.
"Mihalis." Her pale eyes take in the human draped over my shoulder without surprise, as if strange men carrying struggling women into her temple is a regular occurrence. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
The casual statement stops me cold. "You were expecting us?"
"The threads of fate have been... active... tonight." She gestures toward one of the side chambers, her movements precise and economical. "Perhaps you should put her down so we can discuss what brings you here."
I lower the thief to her feet, keeping one hand locked around her wrist when she immediately tries to step away. Her gray-blue eyes dart between me and Jelle, calculation mixing with confusion as she takes in our surroundings.
"This is a temple," she says, as if stating an obvious fact might somehow change her circumstances.
"Very observant." Jelle's tone carries the kind of patience that comes from dealing with mortals who struggle to understand their place in larger patterns. "Come. Both of you."
The side chamber she leads us to is smaller but no less impressive, walls lined with texts written in scripts that predate the current language.
A crystal basin sits at its center, filled with water that glows with its own inner light.
This is where Nashai perform their most important work—soul-reading, fate-weaving, the delicate magic that binds lives together or tears them apart.
"Now." Jelle settles herself beside the basin, her fingers trailing through the glowing water. "What seems to be the problem?"
Where do I even begin? The human thief who shouldn't exist? The divine magic that kept me from killing her? The growing sense that my carefully controlled life is about to shatter into pieces I can't put back together?
"Someone tried to steal from my patrons," I say finally, the simplest version of a situation that feels anything but simple. "When I moved to handle the situation, I encountered... resistance."
"What kind of resistance?" Jelle's eyes focus on the water, images beginning to form in its depths like dreams made visible.
"Divine magic. Something prevented me from drawing my blade." The admission tastes like defeat, but there's no point lying to a Nashai. They see through deception the way normal people see through glass. "I need to know what's happening."
The water in the basin swirls faster, colors bleeding through its depths as Jelle's magic probes the threads of fate surrounding us. I feel the touch of her power like ghostly fingers examining my soul, searching for connections I didn't know existed.
Beside me, the human thief tries again to pull free from my grip. This time I let her take a step away, but keep my attention locked on her position. Running would be pointless in a place like this—the temple's wards would stop her long before she reached the doors.
"Interesting." Jelle's voice carries new weight, the tone she uses when facing something genuinely unexpected. "Very interesting indeed."
The water in the basin erupts into light, images crystallizing with sharp clarity.
I see myself standing in Vestige, wings spread in territorial display.
The human thief moving through the crowd with predatory grace.
The moment our eyes met, when something fundamental shifted in the fabric of reality itself.
And underneath it all, golden threads binding us together with the inexorable strength of divine will.
"A natural soul bond," Jelle says, her voice cutting through the magical display like a blade. "Forged by the gods themselves, not chosen by mortals. Rare enough that I've never seen one personally."
I can’t even process the words. Soul bonds are the deepest magic available to xaphan, the joining of life forces that creates something stronger than either individual could achieve alone. But they're supposed to be chosen, negotiated, entered into with ceremony and mutual consent.
Not forced upon unwilling participants by cosmic interference.
"That's impossible." The protest escapes before I can stop it. "Soul bonds require willing participants. They can't be imposed by divine magic."
"Most bonds, yes." Jelle's attention shifts between the basin and our faces, reading patterns I can't see. "But in very rare circumstances, when the gods themselves decide two souls are meant to be joined, they can forge the connection directly. It hasn't happened in over two centuries."
The human thief finally finds her voice. "What the hell are you talking about? Soul bonds? Divine magic? None of this makes any sense."
Jelle regards her with the kind of gentle patience usually reserved for children and the mentally unstable. "You're bound to him, child. Your life force is being tied to his by power beyond mortal understanding. The connection has been made, though not yet completed."
"I didn't agree to anything!" The thief's voice rises, echoing off the chamber walls. "I don't even know who he is!"
"Agreements are not always required when the gods decide to intervene.
" Jelle turns back to me, her expression serious.
"The bond is real, Mihalis. I can see it forming in the water, golden threads weaving themselves tighter with each moment you spend in proximity.
Fighting it will only cause pain for both of you. "
I feel it now that she's named it—a pulling sensation in my chest, like something vital is being drawn toward the human thief despite my conscious will. The same force that kept my blade sheathed, rewritten on a more fundamental level.
"What happens if we refuse?" I ask, though part of me already knows the answer won't be pleasant.
"The bond will continue forming whether you cooperate or not." Jelle's fingers trace patterns in the glowing water, reading futures that branch like tree limbs. "But incomplete bonds cause... complications. Weakness, illness, eventually death if the connection isn't properly sealed."
The thief backs toward the chamber entrance, her face pale with dawning understanding. "You're saying I'm tied to him whether I want to be or not?"
"The gods have made that decision, yes." Jelle's tone remains infuriatingly calm. "Though you have some time before the bond must be completed. Days, perhaps weeks if you remain in close proximity."
I catch the thief's wrist as she tries to bolt for the door, my fingers closing around delicate bones that feel like they might snap if I squeeze too hard. She spins back toward me, her gray-blue eyes blazing with fury and something that might be panic.
"Let me go!"
"Not happening." The words come out rough, but the alternative—letting her run into the winter night and collapse from magical exhaustion—isn't acceptable. I don’t have the patience or time to deal with those repercussions. "You heard what she said. We're connected now, like it or not."
"I don't like it." Her voice cracks slightly on the words, the first real sign that her composure is fracturing. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this."
Neither did I, but saying so won't change the reality we're facing. The Nashai watches our exchange with clinical interest, like a scholar observing an experiment in progress.
"The bond can be beneficial once properly formed," she offers, though her tone suggests she understands neither of us wants to hear about benefits right now. "Soul-bonded pairs share strength, magic, life force. They become more than the sum of their individual parts."
"And if we refuse?" I press, though the pulling sensation in my chest grows stronger with each moment.
"Then you'll both weaken until the incomplete connection kills you." Jelle stands, brushing droplets from her fingers. "The gods rarely offer choices when they decide to intervene directly. Your options are to complete the bond willingly, or let it complete itself while you both suffer needlessly."
The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush stone. Around us, the temple's enchanted flames flicker in their alcoves, divine magic humming through the air with patient inevitability.
The thief—I still don't even know her name—stares at me with an expression caught between rage and desperation.
Her dark hair falls around her face in waves that catch the magical light, and for a moment I'm struck by how young she looks.
How utterly unprepared for the cosmic forces that just rearranged her life without permission.
Join the club, I think grimly. None of us asked for this.