THIRTEEN #3
The man leaned across the table, his robes in serious danger of catching alight from the burning candles.
“I knew you would come! The stars foretold your arrival!” He tapped against the table, flames shifting alarmingly.
He pulled something from his pocket, waving it before them. “My prophecy never lies.”
Silas peered at the crumpled paper, certain it resembled a receipt more than anything prophetic. He glanced sideways at Amelia, catching her growing look of disdain. He looked back to the odd man. “You’re…Fabian Eros, I presume?”
The man’s eyebrows shot up and he straightened, placing his hands importantly to his chest. “ Archmage Fabian Eros, but yes, yes! Oh, and you—” Fabian pointed a long finger at Silas. “— You , are doomed.”
Silas’ eyes fell shut at the lunacy, already drafting a string of words for his mother for sending them to this crackpot.
“Wonderful,” he mumbled.
Amelia pressed her lips together like she might laugh. Instead, she stepped forwards. “We were told you might have information about the history of pair bonding and how it can be broken.”
Fabian gasped theatrically with such a deep inhale that Silas wondered if he might pass out.
“A pair bond?” He swivelled around to a slanting shelf, reaching for scrolls before tossing them over his shoulder one by one as if utterly useless.
Finally, he turned back with widened green eyes, hands empty.
“Yes, yes…pair bonds. An irrevocable bonding, more than a marriage. Not just a melding of like-minded hearts, but also of souls.”
The words tumbled out, hushed and ominous.
“Irrevocable?” Amelia asked uneasily. “Do you imply it’s unbreakable?”
Fabian clapped, barking out a laugh. Amelia stared at Silas questioningly over her shoulder, eyes wide.
“Don’t rush this, my dear,” Fabian said with another clap of his hands. “We have only just begun. But first, the fee.”
Amelia crossed her arms. “How much?”
“Fifty.”
Silas laughed harshly. “You’re dreaming. Absolutely not.”
“What about ten?” Amelia said, proving again she would always drive for a bargain.
Fabian placed a hand to his chest with offence. “I am a revered mage and scholar, not some mundane street-peddler. Lowest I can go is forty-five.”
They looked at him doubtfully.
Fabian lowered his hand, glancing between them. “Frightfully dangerous to be a mage these days…we’ve been disappearing, have you heard? A mage was taken—taken! Just last month. The risk is worth forty-five, I say.” He widened his eyes expectantly.
Silas shook his head at the sheer madness, gesturing to Amelia. “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Alright!” Fabian cried, brushing at his oversized robes, doing little for the stains Silas spotted on the fabric. “Ten, but you must spread the word of my power and genius.”
They exchanged a silent look of agreement. Amelia pulled out the coins. “We’ll reserve judgement on feedback until after.”
Silas narrowed his gaze. “If mages are disappearing, why would you want us to spread the word?”
Fabian gave a simpering grin. “A man must eat, Silas Finley.”
Shock rooted him. He had not mentioned his name.
Fabian rounded the table, taking the coins from Amelia. He faced Silas, a hand whipping out, snatching at his wrist with surprising speed.
Silas tensed. “What are you—”
Fabian yanked him forwards by his wrist, pressing his forehead against Silas’. He tried pulling away, though Fabian was unexpectedly strong. Silas’ eyes widened while he stared at him silently from the uncomfortably close position, an inordinate amount of time passing.
Amelia shifted awkwardly. “Um…”
Fabian reeled back, eyes searching his before glancing between them contemplatively. “Hmm.”
Silas scowled, jerking his wrist from the tight grip. “What? What was that ?”
Fabian smiled, eyes still shifting between him and Amelia.
“Yes, definitely a pair bond, forged by a shared cut,” he said in a low voice.
Silas reeled at the precise statement, Amelia pulling in a sharp breath.
Fabian peered at Silas, grin widening. “There is a depth in your eyes, sir, to the bond that one does not know.” He looked to Amelia.
“And a hidden truth obscured by the bond that one will not acknowledge.”
Silas swallowed uneasily, Fabian turning away to scour a shelf.
They shared a look of utter surprise.
When Fabian turned back, he held a scroll closed with a wax seal, whipping his robes with a flourish before sitting at the table. He gestured for them to join. Moving forwards hesitantly, they each pulled out a stool to sit opposite Fabian.
“You wish to learn of the pair bonded who came before you?” Fabian asked.
Amelia nodded eagerly, leaning forwards.
“I will show you how to tap into the pair bond connection. First, face each other,” he instructed, taking up the scroll and holding it above the flickering flame of a candle.
The edges began to burn before he blew them out, until only the sides glowed with a burning ember, smoke drifting upwards.
He flicked it at them, signalling they should face one another.
Silas swivelled to face Amelia, her brown eyes meeting his.
“Place a hand each upon the table,” Fabian instructed.
Amelia sighed, tugging off her gloves. Following suit, they both laid a hand across the wax-covered wood.
Fabian tutted. “No, you silly pair. Your left hands—your cut hands.”
Silas glanced at Fabian, stunned that he may change his mind about the authenticity of his magical prowess. Looking back to Amelia, they both placed their injured hands onto the table between them.
“Hands together. Form your bond,” Fabian ordered.
Silas breathed out slowly, meeting Amelia’s eyes. He sought something like approval for the unwanted touch. She reached for him, so he placed his hand over hers, fingers still chilled from the cold.
Fabian remained silent, so Silas looked to him questioningly. Fabian stared, unimpressed, and mildly…judgemental?
“What?”
Fabian eyed Silas’ hand resting lightly on Amelia’s. “I asked you to form your bond , that is merely a physical touch.”
Silas glared, jaw hardening. To his surprise, Amelia adjusted her hand, turning it to wrap her fingers tightly around his. His head whipped around, eyes falling to the firm grip. Silas swallowed and looked up, Amelia looking pointedly away.
“Better,” Fabian said appreciatively. “A meeting of not only hands, but of the portal where magic meets the mundane. A mingling of spirits…but not enough!” he said, tone rising abruptly. “A mingling is but a breath of wind, what we need is a gale that would knock you over in the street!”
Silas scowled, but Fabian only tutted again, pointing to Amelia. “Look at each other, see not only the exterior, but within, seek the soul and join .”
Frustrated, he turned back. She was looking at him, though he sensed her discomfort. Her dark eyes darted between his.
“Focus on one another, on yourself, on both of you as one,” Fabian muttered, waving the smoking scroll in Silas’ periphery.
He wanted to roll his eyes, to murmur how ridiculous this was, but before he could, an odd sensation washed over him. His eyes relaxed, vision fading at the edges as he kept her gaze, sinking into the sight of her before him.
A small sigh escaped his body, like a deep, stark relief had settled over him. A feeling of comfort overtook everything, like all he needed to be happy was to have her , to be with her .
Amelia’s features relaxed before him, her fingers twitching as they sunk into each other, mesmerised, eyes locked on one another.
Fabian was muttering, but Silas no longer heard the words, so focused was he on the beautiful, captivating woman.
Darkness edged into his vision, and with it came a sense of foreboding, slowly erasing the wondrous comfort.
Within his next breath, he was standing in a shadowy place next to her, their hands still joined. Silas was unable to move, eyes darting around at the writhing shadows before them, his sense of direction eliminated.
Amelia’s hand shook in his tightening grip as two shadowed figures moved towards them. He winced when a resonant voice spoke, so loud it was as though they shouted in his ear.
Alara and Vestia, the first bonded pair, were strangers.
Each touching the Monoliths at the same moment even as the vast lands separated them.
Without knowing it, they were fated to be bonded, brought together by the power of midnight.
They could not right the magic. Fate seized them, and together they became part of the Midnight Realm.
The two shadows evaporated like smoke in a heavy wind with a guttural cry.
Two more shadows disengaged from the thick, black mist coating the air and walked forwards to stand before them.
The voice echoed in his ears again.
The bonded rulers, Helia and Frederick, had researched the legendary pairing, intentionally forging a bond in the hopes of joining the lands of north and south to create a power over the lands of Aethrial.
At the forging of the pair bond, all magic unravelled further, and fate seized them for the Midnight Realm, declaring them unworthy of bringing balance.
The shadows vanished with the shriek of a banshee.
More pairs of shadows appeared and vanished in quick succession.
So many followed, none succeeded. All claimed. All consumed.
Another pair disengaged from the darkness, walking forwards to stand before Amelia and Silas.
The final pair, the inseparable lovers, Lyana and Bane were claimed as an accident, bonded through a weather anomaly while traversing the Rift together.
They were the closest, the pair who might bring balance to the magic.
They discovered an ancient Gemino ritual requiring great sacrifice that would appease the Monoliths.
With their bond forged by an accident, so too their fate was sealed by yet another.
Their bond, their love, disrupted the ritual and so they failed.
The pair were seized, the forgotten realm taking them for its own.
One of the figures stepped forwards, unmistakably female with flowing hair of pure darkness.
She, Lyana, moved with a slow grace to them, face nothing but midnight, eyes hollow and empty, limbs thin and emaciated.
She stopped before them, and Silas felt Amelia’s hand grasping his so tightly that it was cutting off circulation.
Lyana’s withered hand reached out, fingers trembling as though the movement cost her terribly.
Don’t make our mistakes. The weight and sacrifice we could not bear now rests on your shoulders. Succeed where we failed. Amelia…
The fingers stretched forwards, reaching for the side of Amelia’s face. The tip of Lyana’s finger just brushed her cheek before Amelia gasped, wrenching her hand free from Silas’. He reared back, reality slamming in, the lingering screams of the vanishing souls echoing in his ears.
The darkness had disappeared, and they were back in the small, rickety shop. Fabian breathed heavily across the table.
Amelia sat, pale and trembling.
Silas swallowed his unease and looked to Fabian. The scroll had burned down, its ash spread across wood and wax.
Amelia stood abruptly. “I…we should go.”
Silas stood slowly as she snatched up her gloves before hurrying for the door, pulling it open to a blast of cold air, the door screeching shut behind her.
He turned back to Fabian. “There’s no way to break the bond, is there?”
Fabian’s smile was odd, making Silas’ shoulders tense. “History proves not, but history can be made today, yes?”
He hesitated before asking, “did you see what we saw in there?”
Fabian tilted his head. “Like calls to like,” he said in his strange voice. “I have no connection to the previous bonded as you do.”
“So…no?” he clarified.
Fabian merely smiled.
Silas straightened the collar of his cloak, moving for the door.
“Silas Finley,” Fabian called. He paused and turned back. “The bond is not forced, nor farcical. Amelia Winslow fights her trauma, but the bond—the true bond, not the magical one—will win the battle.”
His hand curled around the cold door handle, brain shorting at Fabian’s words. Choosing not to respond, Silas pushed open the door, welcoming the gust of wintry air as he stepped out after Amelia.