1. Chapter One #2
I arrived to the ritual circle with dirt clinging to the hem of my robes and blood still drying beneath them. Brannach’s scowl hit me like an arrow before I even stepped into the ritual circle.
Perfect.
Exactly the sort of entrance the Elders prayed for.
Tonight’s rite wasn’t mine. It never was.
I was here to witness, not belong. Another pair of fools were about to tie their souls together in an interim bond—a silver knot, wound so tight that even death couldn’t tear it loose.
A hallowed vow the gods shoved down mortal throats, dragging them back into each other’s orbit, lifetime after lifetime, until their lessons were “learned.”
Whatever in the realms that meant, I didn’t know.
Some called it sacrosanct, but they didn’t feel the weight of visions.
I did, and I called it cruel. Love didn’t guarantee gentleness. Reunion didn’t promise peace. But still, they came—souls lined up to chain themselves to a promise that weighed more than their own blood, like it was some sort of honor.
When chosen, they were brought here, to Anamcroí, the Forest of Souls. They resided in Caer Anam until their soul bonding rite, then they were sent down into Morhaven carrying a tether heavy enough to crush them underneath each other’s mistakes.
I was granted the “gift” of visions, though they felt more like a curse. Such was my exalted purpose, to see lifetimes unfold. Mortal souls had free-will, they made choices in past lives that led to their fates, and my visions showed the results of those choices.
But the thing about visions is that you don’t just see them—you bleed with them.
Every agony, every joy, every loss. I felt them all as if they were my own, and no matter how hard I tried to follow the hard lessons I’d been taught, it never grew easier.
The pain always wormed its way into both my brain and heart, feeding on every weak emotion they found there.
The Grove opened before me, moonlight spilling over the wide ring of grass, the air was almost vibrating with ancient power. At its center stood the pair to be bound. One woman trembled, the other watched her as if she were the only mortal worth seeing.
But bonds weren’t always made to be lovers. They didn’t heal what they tied in their past lives. Instead, their genders could change. They could come back as siblings, friends, or teachers.
The first chants rose, low and droning. Power pressed against my skin, restless and unnatural. I bit back a laugh. The Elders would call it divine presence. To me, it just felt like static buzzing with the wrong kind of energy.
At the altar, the High Priestess lifted her pale eyes to the sky.
Brannach’s carved staff trembled in his grip, stone-hard against the weight of what was to come.
I had to work hard to keep my facial expression stoic, but inside, I was doing emotional somersaults.
Flashes of a jaw cracking under my blade, black blood spraying on my face.
Don’t overthink it, Aurenya. You were protecting the realm. And who else was going to? Brannach in his pristine robes? The High Priestess? Get real, you weren't left with any other choice.
All eyes shifted to me. My place was never center, only shadow—but this was the part I couldn’t refuse.
With my bare feet on damp grass I stepped forward and laid my hands across the bonded pairs' wrists, binding flesh to flesh.
The moment I touched them, the world dropped away and the vision seized me whole.
A girl clung to her brother’s hand. Their parents gone, his promise solid as steel: I’ll protect you. She believed him, of course. She adored him.
But the hard bite of hunger was stronger than love, and two mouths were harder to feed than one.
The scene fractured into dim torchlight, silver was exchanged, and her desperate hand was torn away from his.
Shadows of fists and boots filled my peripheral, her cry was crushed into silence.
Her ribs, her breath, her innocence, were all shattered beneath the weight of men who didn’t see her as human.
Her brother never came back. He turned toward life, not her memory, nor his betrayal. He eventually married, fathered children, smiled in the sunlight. All while his sister’s last moments were spent screaming, “Why did he leave me?”
The vision faded away into the night air, leaving me with the bitter taste of ash in my mouth.
I stood rooted. My breathing was uneven, but my face remained a mask.
The Oracle had drilled the lesson deep—never let it show.
But the ache burned beneath my ribs, raw and brutal as if I’d lived it myself.
I wanted to howl her grief like wolves on a full moon, I wanted to spit her future brothers name as if it were poison—to warn them both against the drastic mistake they were about to make.
But I swallowed it down as I heard Brannach’s cruel voice in my head.
You are a vessel for the Old Gods, girl. Emotional breakdowns are not permitted within the sacred circle.
I was five the first time the Sight took me.
Too small to understand why the visions gripped me so violently.
I had seen a little girl kneeling at her mother’s bedside, begging her to wake.
I felt the heat of the fever that was taking villagers one by one, the rasp of breath that wouldn't last the night.
I'd cried when I told the Oracle, my small hands clutching her robes.
For once, her voice had been gentle, and not the disjointed timbre that scared me as a child.
Fate can be cruel, Seer, but it is not ours to question.
That was the last time I remembered her gentleness.
Nobody could ever know what I saw but her. Yet, behind my eyes, tears burned with salt. I wouldn’t let them fall. I swallowed hard, and when I lifted my gaze to the Grove, the ache was lodged so deep inside me I wouldn’t look upon it again.
Acolytes moved like specters around the pair at the center.
Bowls of water had been taken from Anam Lac during a full moon.
There was smoking resin, starflowers scattered over bare feet.
All the holy trappings meant to make the oath shine.
It was theater, every last piece of it. Gods, how blissfully ignorant everyone was.
The chants deepened, flickers of light unfurled between them, weaving tighter with each sacrament spoken.
The crowd sighed in reverence. I kept my eyes steady and my face still, but inside every word burned deep somewhere within my chest. Love dressed as prison, choice dressed as density, and my burden was to witness inevitable destruction.
The Grove exhaled as one. Pledges were sealed in silver light.
They were about to…wait, what the fuck was that?
At the farthest edge of the circle, where shadows bent deepest, a hooded figure leaned against a weather-worn monolith.
Broad shoulders, arms folded with the kind of stillness that made the air strain around it.
Firelight reached for the figure but slipped away, refusing its shape.
Only its eyes caught the glow—emerald, glinting with a predatory edge, and they were fixed right on me.
My Sight reached for the figure on instinct alone and…nothing.
No hum, no threads. Nothing to mark it in the Weave, which touched everything. Even gods. But it didn’t touch the figure. Impossible.
And yet it stood there as if it always belonged.
Of course. Because tonight wasn’t cursed enough already.
I was late to the rite, there was blood under my nails, dirt on my robes. I'd been forced to seal a cursed bond, and now, the Fates decided to throw a hooded phantom in the mix.
Lucky me.
I tore my gaze away, forcing my breath steady, and repeated a mantra in my head. Just don’t look.
Strangers didn’t wander through Caer Anam, and they certainly didn’t overlook the rites. I brushed the thoughts aside and tried to aim my focus toward the dramatics in front of me.
Brannach’s voice rolled over the Grove, heavy with the final chants of the ritual. The acolytes circled the pair, scattering rose quartz in a spiral while the High Priestess lifted her hands to the sky. Silver beams of light unfurled between the women, weaving them tighter with every decree.
The cadence slowed, and my eyes flicked back to the monolith out of instinct, only to find it empty once more. Only a pale scar of lichen remained where the figure had stood. The hair at my neck prickled. The forest didn’t simply…swallow something like that.
When I turned back the High Priestess’s glossy stare was fixed on me, filled with knowing.
I narrowed my eyes and she smirked in response.
She knew what I’d seen. The chant faltered for a heartbeat, then resumed as though nothing had passed between us.
But the weight of her gaze lingered, burrowing in my chest like a thorn working deeper with every breath.
What in all Seven Realms?
A low vibration started deep in my sternum, and it wasn't the soft resonance of a soul bond, but something darker. The spark rippled through the circle as though this single knot had disrupted the entire tapestry.
I’d never felt anything like that before.
Tonight was a night for a lot of firsts, it seemed.
I felt a chill down my spine as I assessed the acolytes still circling the couple, nobody seemed to have felt what I did.
My gaze found Brannach’s, which was narrowed on me with a look of disapproval in his eyes.
I diverted my attention from him. I had no desire to be caught up in his shit storm of accusations tonight.
Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to just go home, get out of these blood-soaked robes and hopefully get some much-needed rest. Sleep had been elusive lately, replaced with vivid dreams that had me waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat.
I planned on sneaking out lightning quick, hopefully avoiding Saorla’s mockery at our hut. Though the chances of that were slim, at least I’d be out of here and able to breathe without the dreaded ritual smoke clogging my senses.
The last vows floated into the air with finality and the Grove exhaled as one. The High Priestess lowered her hands, Brannach struck his staff three times, and just like that the forlorn bond was sealed.
Acolytes closed in like vultures, draping the pair in white and leading them into damnation. Saorla would have called me dramatic for making such a statement, but I couldn't deny how I felt about it.
However, the newly bonded pair looked like all their dreams had just come true.
Poor souls, if only they knew the travesty that awaited them in the mortal realm…
I started to turn, my part in this disaster dressed in divinity was finally over. I should have been dismissed.
But to my dismay, the High Priestess had other ideas. She turned her head and her otherworldly eyes found me across the Grove—swift as a bird in flight.
Well, so much for sneaking away.
“Aurenya,” she said, her voice carrying through the chill. Most simply called me Seer, but she used the name Saorla had given me.
That was not a good sign coming from her.
The Grove fell silent and my pulse quickened.
“You will go to the Elder’s hut after you’ve changed into…clean robes.”
And that was that.
She turned away with a look of distaste before I could answer, her gaze fixed on the altar once more as if the matter had already been decided by forces older than both of us. In truth, it probably had been.
The Grove emptied in murmurs and shuffling feet, but her words clung to me like a raven refusing to let go of its prey.
I was being summoned to the Elder’s hut.
So, my wardens knew what I'd done tonight. That I'd shed blood on sacred ground. They always knew. The gods whispered in their ears, and if not the gods, then the shadows. Secrets were nonexistent where I was concerned, I should have predicted this.
And now, I was going to walk straight into judgment for it.
Fan-fucking-tastic.