CHAPTER 37
THE SOULBOND
To Soulbond is to choose a person fully, and forever. It is Arcanthys’ most beautiful vow.
– Ancient Vallennan Blessing
Kara pushed Sebastian down into a chair. “But first,” she said as she shoved bread into his hands, “you eat.”
He looked up at her, a mildly amused expression on his face. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked. “Ordering me around?”
“Future bondmate’s prerogative,” she laughed as she kissed him quickly on the cheek.
It worked. He ate.
Afterwards, he dressed in the rest of the clothes Fatàn had left for him.
Kara watched him contentedly, but as he combed his hair back, her stomach fluttered.
Gone was the fugitive, the traitor. For the first time in weeks, he looked more like the man she had met at the Arcalon. Strong, steady, a little cocky and–
Utterly beautiful.
He’s mine.
Still, he fastened his sword to his hip.
“Not taking any chances,” he said at her raised brow.
But his eyes were softer now. His posture lighter.
When she reached for his hand, he took it without hesitation.
They stepped outside together. Black volcanic stone lined the path on either side, and the air smelled of ash and rosemary.
Veyra Fatàn stood at the end of the path, waiting.
As if she’d known the exact moment they’d emerge.
Of course she did.
Her face was as calm and serene as ever, her hands folded neatly before her.
“Ah,” she said, with a satisfied smile. “So you’re ready.”
Sebastian’s grip tightened on her hand as they stopped before Veyra. “This is not your victory,” he said shortly.
Veyra’s smile didn’t falter. “Maybe not. But it is yours, Warrior. And perhaps Vallenna’s.”
“I don’t like your methods,” Sebastian said flatly.
“I know.”
His jaw clenched. “And I won’t forgive what you let Kara go through.”
Veyra’s violet eyes held his steadily. “I know that as well.” There was no defensiveness in her tone, nor any apology. Just acknowledgment.
Sebastian exhaled slowly. “But thank you,” he said begrudgingly. “For the roof. For the food. The clothes. It’s the first peace we’ve had in weeks.”
Veyra bowed her head. “You’ll need your strength.”
“What you told us about the prophecy. Before the winter frost? Is that all we have? Weeks?” Kara asked.
Veyra’s gaze shifted to her. “As I said – it could be days, or weeks. The prophecy was not more precise. The Sight can be... imperfect. Even for me. But until then, you will stay. Recoup your strength. My people know you are here, under my protection. They understand.”
“Thank you,” Kara said.
“Come with me,” Veyra said. “We have much to discuss.”
They followed Veyra silently into the keep beyond the library, through low-lit corridors of black stone, until she led them into a circular chamber that was unmistakably hers.
The walls were adorned with colourful crystals and lined with shelves containing parchments, scrolls and leather-bound books of Veyra’s own writings, including symbols Kara had never seen before.
Prophecies, she assumed, dreams Veyra had interpreted.
Charts of Arcanthys’s constellations were pinned to the wall, alongside a large map of Vallenna, marked with dates in flowing script.
Evidently, it was where Veyra studied, where she’d spent a lifetime watching the threads of fate.
It gave Kara a distinctly eerie feeling, like the walls themselves were watching her.
The door clicked shut behind them and Veyra settled herself at her desk, completely at ease.
“You are ready to hear it, I think, the prophecy in full. The part that the others did not,” Veyra said.
“In full?” Kara asked cautiously.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean there’s more than what the Council heard?”
“There is what we showed them,” Veyra said calmly, “and what we did not. The Written Future gives us many verses. Not all are meant for every ear.”
“No more riddles,” Sebastian growled. “Say it plainly.”
Veyra raised a brow at his fit of temper. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and carried the rhythm of prophecy:
Before autumn dies, Draknor will rise,
With a power Vallenna yet knows not.
As Vallenna’s magic grows weak and fails,
Our enemy sets their blackened sail.
When the Shards of the Arcanth are whole once more,
Their forces will strike upon our shores.
Unless our strength is bound again,
Defeat shall claim us, not if, but when.
One shall act, when none dare to,
Their choice will split the world in two.
A promise broken, their duty severed,
Our peace undone, perhaps forever.
Sebastian’s jaw clenched as he muttered under his breath, “That was enough to frighten the Council into playing along.”
Veyra’s eyes glittered. “Indeed. This next verse has only been for Fatàn’s ears... but I think it’s right you hear it now.”
She continued:
When flame and healing meet as one,
The Arcanth’s soul can be yet won.
The Warrior’s fire, the Healer’s hand,
Together they may yet save this land.
But should their bond be torn apart,
Then darkness claims Vallenna’s heart.
When she finished, Sebastian and Kara stared at her. The silence was suffocating.
“You never told them this part? The part that would have proved what we were doing? That we weren’t thieves or traitors?” Sebastian demanded angrily.
“They did not need to know,” Veyra said simply.
“Did not need to know–” Sebastian raged as he drew dangerously close to Veyra.
“Kara needed them to know. You made that decision before the Arcalon. Before Kara and I had even met. Father said that’s when you told them of this.
You’d already decided that we would suffer. Decided she’d be dragged to a pyre.”
“Your choices dictated the way the Weave fell, Warrior. We just prepared for the most likely... eventuality,” Veyra said.
Sebastian took a step forward, looking murderous. “Sebastian.” She tugged him back by the arm. “That’s enough.”
He looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Kara, you do realise what they–”
“Yes,” she said, though her hand shook against his sleeve. “I do. But we are here now, together, and safe. It seems to me that this is exactly where we are supposed to be.”
Veyra smiled. “You are wise, Healer. I can see why the Arcanth chose you.”
Sebastian drew in a long breath and faced Veyra again. “Hear me, Veyra. I don’t care what verses you hide, or games you play. Kara and I aren’t pieces on a board. Whatever happens next, it will be because we chose it.”
A look of faint surprise crossed Veyra’s face. “It seems the Written Future was wise to withhold the words until now.”
Veyra watched as Sebastian intertwined his fingers with Kara’s and pulled her closer, emerald and crimson fluttering around their joined hands.
“Vallenna still has a chance.” She smiled. “I suppose you wanted to ask me how it is done?”
Sebastian scoffed. “Would be nice to have some instruction, yes.”
Kara flushed but lifted her chin. “We’ve committed to it. But we don’t know what to do next.”
“It is a ritual,” Veyra told them. “A ceremony older than Vallenna, or any of our Houses, and far less forgiving. A Soulbond not forged by words alone, but by true intent and depth of feeling. Speak truth, make your choice, and open yourselves completely. If your souls answer one another, the bond will take. If they do not...” She paused. “The magic will reject you. Violently.”
“Violently?” Sebastian repeated.
“Yes,” Veyra said shortly. “The Arcanth does not suffer false bonds.”
Kara inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. “We’ll speak it. Freely.”
Veyra smiled, satisfied. “Good. I will call for you tonight.”
Sebastian looked up. “Tonight?”
“There is an element of adjustment to a Soulbond,” Veyra replied simply. “You need to be ready. Time is short.”
“Adjustment? What does that mean?” Kara asked.
“You’ll see.”
Helpful.
She risked a glance at Sebastian. He was staring at Veyra, but he looked calm enough. At the very least, he didn’t look like he was about to draw his sword.
Tonight.
The word jolted through her whole body. It wasn’t some distant thing anymore. It was real. It was hours away. Kara knew that some part of her should feel afraid, but all she felt was bone-deep certainty.
She would always choose Sebastian Thorne.
And when he looked down at her, for all his protests and fear, the truth burned bright in his eyes.
Want.
He had made his choice too.
The summons from Veyra came at nightfall. A young woman, about twenty, in dark purple robes knocked lightly on their door as Kara had been anxiously re-braiding her hair. How did one wear their hair to a Soulbond ceremony? Everything she tried felt wrong – not enough.
“Our lady awaits you at the temple,” was all she said.
Sebastian and Kara followed her out, and Kara could feel the tension rolling off him as they walked. He had a slight crease between his eyebrows and he kept stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Kara, are you sure?” he asked, low enough that only she could hear.
Of course I am.
“About you? Yes.” She gave the faintest, nervous smile. “About getting the words right? Not so much.”
His lips twitched, clearly the closest he could get to a laugh right now. But his eyes were serious. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“Together.”
And they walked on towards the waiting Fatàn temple.
It wasn’t grand the way Kara had imagined, no towering spires, it was small, with circular walls carved from black volcanic rock.
They rose up to meet the night sky, then stopped.
No roof. It allowed the stars to glitter and shine down on the floor below.
Like the Gods themselves were watching. Kara swallowed hard as they climbed the steps.
The air smelled ancient, earthy. She caught notes of herbs she recognised, and the sulphur smell that lingered throughout all of Fatàn.
This is really happening.
“Welcome,” said Veyra as they entered.
“Hi,” Kara said meekly.
Sebastian said nothing.
In the centre of the temple was a circle inlaid with silver, and the hourglass crest of House Fatàn.