Chapter 18
HEIDI
Pain. That's all I am anymore—a collection of sharp edges and raw wounds wrapped in skin that feels too thin to contain anything. Each breath scrapes against my lungs like broken glass, and my bones ache so deeply I think they might be turning to dust inside me.
I want to die.
The thought should terrify me, but I'm too exhausted for fear. Too hollowed out by whatever's eating me alive from the inside. Death would be relief at this point. An end to this agony that's consumed every moment since I walked away from—
No. Can't think about that. Can't think about him or the way his face looked when I bolted from his office. Can't think about Irida asking where I went, or the warmth I felt when his magic wrapped around me like a living thing.
Can't think about how much I miss them both.
But then something changes. Cold air hits my face like a slap, sharp and clean after the stale warmth of my apartment. I should shiver, should curl deeper into myself to escape it, but I can't move. Can barely breathe. Can only exist in this space between awareness and nothing.
Arms. There are arms around me, strong and warm and impossibly gentle. They hold me like I'm something precious instead of the broken thing I've become. The scent that clings to whoever's carrying me makes my chest flutter with something that isn't quite recognition but feels like home anyway.
Bergamot and smoke. Fire magic and something indefinably masculine that makes me want to burrow closer even though I don't have the strength to move.
Mihalis.
His name echoes through my mind like a prayer I'm not allowed to say. But it has to be him. Nobody else would smell like safety and danger all at once. Nobody else would carry me with this kind of desperate care, like they're afraid I might shatter if they hold too tight.
I missed him. Gods, I missed him so much it carved a hole in my chest that nothing could fill.
Missed the way his eyes would soften when he looked at me, missed the rumble of his voice when he called me little thief, missed the way his hands felt when they touched me with something approaching reverence.
Missed Irida's laugh and the way she'd demand stories, missed the warmth of their house and the way the staff would sneak me extra pastries when they thought nobody was looking.
Missed having a place where I belonged, even if I was too scared to admit it.
But I'm so tired. So fucking tired I can't even lift my eyelids to confirm it's really him. The pain hasn't lessened—if anything, it's gotten worse, like my body is protesting the movement even though I'm not the one doing the moving.
Everything hurts. My head pounds in rhythm with my heartbeat, each pulse sending spikes of agony through my skull. My joints feel like they're full of ground glass, and my chest burns with every shallow breath. Even my hair hurts, somehow, like each strand is connected to exposed nerves.
The world shifts around me, voices murmuring words I can't quite catch. Footsteps on stone, the creak of a door opening, warmth that seeps through whatever thin barrier separates us from the cold outside.
"Please." The voice that speaks is rough, broken in a way that makes something deep in my chest clench with sympathy. "You have to help her."
Mihalis. Definitely Mihalis, though he sounds like he's been screaming for days. Or crying. Or both. There's a desperation in his tone I've never heard before, raw and unguarded in a way that makes me want to comfort him even though I can barely exist.
"Bring her here." A woman's voice, crisp with authority and touched with something that might be compassion. "Quickly now."
More movement, hands arranging me on something soft. A cushion maybe, or a bench. The surface beneath me is warm, warmer than it should be, and I catch the faint scent of incense and candle wax.
Temple. We're in a temple.
My mind struggles to process this information through the haze of pain. Why would he bring me to a temple? Unless—
The soul bond. The connection that's been killing us both, slowly draining our life forces because we were too stubborn to complete what we started. The magic that's been eating me alive from the inside, demanding a commitment I was too terrified to give.
"Is it too late?" Mihalis again, and the fear in his voice cuts through me like a blade. "Tell me it's not too late."
"She's weak," the woman says, and I recognize her now. Jelle, the Nashai who examined us what feels like a lifetime ago. "Weaker than you, though I'm not sure why. The bond has been feeding on her life force more aggressively."
A pause, then the soft whisper of fabric as someone moves closer. Fingers touch my throat, checking for a pulse that must be barely there.
"We can try," Jelle continues. "But she needs to be able to withstand it.” I’m sure she can see how close I am to death.
"She will. She’s strong." The certainty in Mihalis's voice makes something warm flicker in my chest. Not quite hope, but close. "I just need to save her.”
The way he talks about me… Gods, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have ever thought this man could have been trying to use me?
"Heidi." His voice is closer now, rough with emotion. "I know you can hear me. I know you're in there somewhere, fighting this. You're the strongest person I've ever met—don't give up now."
Strong. He thinks I'm strong, when all I've ever done is run from the things that scare me. Run from him, from the possibility of happiness, from the chance that someone might actually want me for more than what I could steal or how well I could disappear.
"I should have fought harder," he continues, and I can feel him beside me now, his presence a warm weight that makes the pain recede just slightly. "Should have made you understand that this was never just about the magic. That what I feel for you—what we have—is real."
Real. The word echoes through my mind, bouncing off the walls of my consciousness like light in a prism. Is it real? This pull between us, this desperate need that's been growing stronger with every day we spend together?
Or is it just the bond, manipulating our emotions to ensure its own completion?
I don't know. Can't know, not when my thoughts are so scattered and my body is failing.
But I remember the way he looked at me when I was playing with Irida.
Remember the gentleness in his touch when he held me, the way his eyes would track my movement around his house like he was memorizing every detail.
Remember the way he said he wanted everything. Not just my body, but my laugh and my trust and whatever else I was willing to give.
Maybe that's enough. Maybe it doesn't matter if the bond started this or if our feelings are real or manufactured. Maybe what matters is that I don't want to die without knowing what we could be together.
Heat begins to build in the air around us, not the oppressive heat of summer but something cleaner. Magical heat that smells like temple incense and old stone. I feel hands settle over my chest, palms flat against my ribs, and power hums through the touch like electricity.
"I call upon Solis, god of light and binding," Jelle's voice has taken on a formal cadence, the words carrying weight that makes the air itself seem to thicken. "I ask that you witness this union and bless the bond between these souls."
The heat intensifies, spreading from her hands through my chest like warm honey. It doesn't hurt—for the first time in days, something doesn't hurt. Instead, it feels like coming back to life, like warmth returning to frozen limbs.
Light blazes behind my closed eyelids, brilliant and pure and absolutely overwhelming. I can feel Jelle's magic working, weaving something complex and beautiful between Mihalis and me. Can feel the bond that's been slowly killing us both suddenly blazing with life and purpose.
Power floods my body like a river breaking through a dam.
Not just magic, but vitality itself. Life pouring back into me so fast it's almost violent, filling the hollow spaces where pain has lived for so long.
My heart starts beating stronger, my lungs inflate fully for the first time in days, my bones stop feeling like they're made of broken glass.
And through it all, I can feel him. Not just his presence, but his emotions, his relief so profound it makes me want to cry. The bond settles between us like a living thing, warm and golden and absolutely unbreakable.
My eyes snap open.
The world comes into focus slowly, colors bleeding back into a reality that's been gray for too long.
Temple ceiling above me, carved stone and ancient symbols that seem to pulse with their own inner light.
Candles flickering in alcoves, casting dancing shadows on walls that have witnessed countless ceremonies like this one.
And Mihalis, kneeling beside the altar where I'm lying, his molten gold eyes wide with relief and something that looks suspiciously like unshed tears.
He looks terrible. His skin has the same gray undertone mine probably had, and there are dark circles under his eyes that speak of days without sleep. His hair is disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and his massive wings droop with exhaustion.
But he's beautiful. So fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache with something that has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with how much I missed him.
"Heidi." My name falls from his lips like a prayer, rough with emotion. His hands shake as he reaches for me, cupping my face with a gentleness that belies his obvious desperation. "Are you—tell me you're okay."
The question breaks something loose in my chest. All the fear and longing and desperate want I've been trying to suppress for days comes rushing back, amplified by the bond that now connects us completely. I can feel his relief, his love, his absolute terror at how close he came to losing me.
And I can finally admit, to myself and to him, that I never wanted to leave in the first place.
Instead of answering with words, I surge upward, ignoring the way my body protests the sudden movement. My hands fist in the front of his shirt, and I drag his mouth down to mine with all the desperate hunger of someone who's been starving for weeks.
The kiss is everything our first one wasn't. No hesitation, no uncertainty, no fear of what it might mean. Just pure need and relief and the overwhelming joy of being alive, of being whole, of finally accepting what I've wanted all along.
He tastes like worry and sleepless nights and the kind of desperation that comes from watching someone you love slip away. But underneath that, he tastes like home. Like safety and desire and the promise that I'll never have to face anything alone again.
His arms come around me, pulling me against his chest as he kisses me back with a fervor that makes my head spin. The bond hums between us, no longer the weak, painful thing it's been but something bright and strong and absolutely perfect.
I can feel his relief through the connection, feel how much my leaving hurt him. But I can also feel his love, pure and uncomplicated and so much stronger than I ever dared hope.