Chapter 37 #3
Nevertheless, while fraught with danger, the severance of an Echoing Seal is not without potential success.
The key to this process lies in resonance—specifically, in matching the frequency of the captive power.
A practitioner seeking to sever the seal must first attune themselves to the ethereal signature of the bound power, identifying the exact moment when the resonance between the power and the seal is at its most fragile.
At this point, with sufficient precision, the seal may be broken without catastrophic consequences.
However, the margin for error is exceedingly narrow, and failure to act swiftly can result in the uncontrolled release of energy.
It is important to emphasize that even successful severance carries inherent risks.
The power, once unbound, may not return to a manageable form.
In many cases, it becomes erratic, difficult to wield, and may fundamentally alter the nature of the individual from whom it has been released.
Moreover, the psychological toll of such an experience cannot be overstated.
The sudden reintegration of previously suppressed energy can lead to profound disorientation, hallucinations, and a distorted sense of self.
Her laugh rang out, brittle and edged with something close to hysteria. “Was reading the rest of it supposed to make me feel better?”
“It should,"” he replied coolly, his eyes never leaving hers. “The Binding Sigil can be undone.”
Undone. The word pulsed in her mind like a heartbeat. She dragged a hand through her unruly curls, trying to steady herself. “Yes,” she whispered, “but not without considerable risk.”
He raised a brow. “Since when have you shied away from a challenge?”
Elara crossed her arms. “Since 'significant risk of cognitive, emotional, and even physical destabilization' became part of the equation.
And it doesn't make sense,” she continued, words tumbling out in a rush.
“When I was with Dom—" She caught herself, biting down on the name.
“When I was with them—the people you took me away from—they just cut the seal off Dario.”
The Hunter shook his head. “It doesn't work like that. They must have been misled.” He tapped the ancient tome. “This copy of Transcendental Bonds is likely the last of its kind. The rest were destroyed at the beginning of the war.”
Elara narrowed her eyes. “And Osin just handed it to you?”
“I told you. He trusts me.”
“Funny,” she muttered, “because I don't.”
He met her gaze, unflinching. “You don't need to trust me. Trust the facts.” His chin jerked toward the book. “This isn't rumor or legend. It's the original text—the truth.”
She almost snorted. He spoke with such conviction as if the truth wasn’t just some shapeless thing people twisted to fit their stories.
“Even if this is the last copy,” Elara said slowly, “and even if what you’re saying is true—what makes you think it’ll work for me?”
“Because you’re different,” he replied, something flickering in his eyes. “And so am I.”
Different. The word lingered. Heavy. Loaded. It pressed against her chest, filling the space with a thousand unspoken questions she wasn’t sure how to put into words. Her gaze drifted back to him, searching his face for something—anything—that could explain what he wasn’t saying.
“Why help me?”
“I told you, it will dampen the Draoth Cara and—”
“Maybe that's true,” she cut him off, her gaze piercing. “But it's not the full truth.”
He went still. Not a muscle moved, not a breath out of place.
But she felt it—the way his pulse seemed to quicken beneath the surface.
He kept his expression neutral, but there was something sharp beneath it, something coiled tight and dangerous.
His story didn’t add up. Sure, it had to annoy him that she could squeeze his pulse with a mere thought, twist his nerves whenever she wished.
A glaring weakness for someone like him. But that wasn’t all. It couldn’t be.
“You deceived your lord,” she continued, stepping closer.
“You claimed he trusts you, yet here you stand, exploiting that trust to work behind his back. All to sever the thread between us—a thread I still do not fully understand.” Her gaze hardened.
“This is treason. The very thing you denounced when it involved Fenlin, when it concerned the Script Keepers. And now you commit it yourself. Why not bring this matter to Osin himself? You are his most loyal, are you not? Surely, he would aid you. And yet, you hide it. Why?”
The Hunter held her gaze, unblinking, but the silence that followed felt charged. “You’re pushing into things you shouldn’t,” he said quietly, almost too calmly.
Her pulse spiked. “Tell me why.”
“Does it matter? If it gets the job done, why should the reason behind it make a difference?”
“The why always matters,” she hissed, stepping closer.
He breathed out slowly. “This isn’t about morality, Hallowed. It’s about survival.”
Her lips curled into a cold smile. “Spoken like someone who’s willing to justify anything to get what he wants.”
“Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.” His voice dropped lower, that dangerous edge creeping back in. “And if you keep digging, you might not like what you find.”
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t. But you don’t get to decide what I do with the truth.” Her fingers brushed the necklace against her skin and her heart kicked into high gear. “I demand you tell me the truth as part of your oath.”
A rush of heat flared against her chest, and she saw it—the brief flicker of resistance in his eyes as the compulsion hit. His whole body seemed to lock up, muscles taut, and he shook his head like he was trying to force it off, trying to fight it.
“You’re really going to waste one of the questions on this?”
She gave a single nod.
He exhaled sharply, his eyes darkening. “I don’t just want to break my seal. I want you free. From everyone.”
The air seemed to vanish, her breath stalling in her chest. Free? The word slammed into her, each syllable sinking deep, dragging her down like a riptide pulling her under.
“You mean to break the Binding Sigil completely?” She shook her head, her mind reeling, disbelief warring with a wild, desperate hope. “Why? Why would you help me with this?”
His jaw worked, but when he spoke, it was like every word was being torn out of him. “Because I need something from you, too.”
Of course. There was always a catch. Always a price. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “And what is it you need from me?”
“My brother.” The words scraped from him through clenched teeth. “I need your help to save my brother.”