Page 72 of Bound In Shadow

I slip into the main cavern, a broad chamber with a vaulted stone ceiling. Torches ring the periphery, casting shifting shadows on rugged rock. Stalagmites jut from the floor, forming natural partitions where orchard folk have laid out small sleeping areas. Amid them, Takar and a band of exiled Dark Elves talk quietly, glancing up as I enter.

The hush that follows my arrival never sits easily with me. I recall the days when any silence meant cunning or subterfuge in the fortress halls. Here, though, it’s more a cautious respect. I step forward, addressing them with a low voice. “Any sign of pursuit?”

Takar stands, crossing an arm over his chest in a salute. “None, my prince. Our scouts confirm no outriders within a day’s ride. Seems the council is reeling after we stormed Pyrthos. They might regroup, but for now, we’re safe.”

Relief loosens my shoulders. I exhale, noticing how orchard rebels exchange hopeful looks. “Then we’ll remain here a few days,” I say, “long enough to rest, plan, and see what the orchard enclaves want from us.”

A murmur of agreement spreads. Takar adds, “I’ll finalize watch rotations, but you might want to speak to Lysandra. She’s just beyond that passage.” He gestures to a narrow tunnel that slopes downward. “Seems she found a quieter chamber for us.”

Heat warms my face at the phrasefor us. Takar’s not subtle, but he’s right. Lysandra and I share an unspoken closeness that has become the linchpin of this entire alliance. I nod in thanks, ignoring the curious smirks from a few orchard rebels. Then I slip away, following the path Takar indicated.

The tunnel winds deeper, torchlight flickering over slick stone. My heart quickens when I hear her voice, soft, speaking to someone else. I turn a corner and see her crouched near a small subterranean pool fed by a trickling waterfall. She’s talking withTali, the orchard fighter who joined us after fleeing from the fortress.

Tali stands, shoulders tense, while Lysandra offers a comforting hand. I arrive just as Tali says, “—everyone looks to you and Xelith now. The orchard enclaves can’t unify otherwise. So don’t abandon us, all right?”

Lysandra gives a reassuring smile, voice hushed with compassion. “We won’t. We intend to help build something stable here.” Then her gaze flicks up, noticing me. Tali turns, startled, then exhales in relief.

“Ah,” Tali mutters, dipping her head. “Prince Xelith.”

I offer a nod of acknowledgment, scanning Tali’s anxious expression. “All is well, I hope?”

Tali nods, though worry shadows her eyes. “Just concerns about how long we can stay hidden. We orchard folk aren’t used to living in caves. But I’ll share your words. Thank you, Lysandra.” She bows lightly, then hurries off, leaving us alone in the quiet chamber.

Lysandra stands, brushing dust from her trousers. The subterranean waterfall trickles behind her, the sound oddly soothing. My torchlight glints off the water, painting her face in soft gold. She exhales, meeting my gaze. “We’re forging a new path, but they’re scared. I can’t blame them.”

I approach, snuffing out my torch in the waterfall’s basin, letting darkness settle except for the faint glow from a lone lantern behind her. “I know,” I say, voice low. “We can’t promise absolute safety. But we can’t let them live in constant flight either.”

She nods, crossing her arms. The hush lengthens, the drip of water a gentle backdrop. “I keep thinking about what’s next,” she admits quietly. “We shattered the fortress’s leadership, but that doesn’t free the farmland entirely. Other fortress lords mightrise, or more exiled nobles might try to fill the power vacuum. This alliance we’re building is fragile.”

I study her face—exhaustion and resolve etched into every line. My chest tightens with an inexplicable surge of longing. “It is fragile,” I concede, stepping nearer. “But we have each other. That’s no small thing.”

She looks up at me, and in that glow, I see vulnerability mingling with something deeper—affection, perhaps even love. My breath catches. I recall the orchard stable, the orchard illusions, the stolen moments of intimacy that revealed how entwined we’ve become.

Gently, I slide my hand to her shoulder, the damp air chilling my skin. “I’ve been thinking,” I murmur, voice trembling with anticipation. “All we have is each other now—truly. The orchard enclaves rely on us, yes, but beyond that, we… we rely on one another. No fortress court awaits me, no safe harbor for you if we part. We’re forging a life from scratch.”

Her gaze flickers with curiosity, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Yes,” she breathes, stepping a fraction closer. “I can’t imagine going back to the days when we were so distant. When I thought you might kill me, or I might kill you.” A hollow laugh escapes her. “Now I can’t picture facing any threat without you.”

My heart hammers. I recall Takar’s half-joking mention weeks ago about a spiritual ceremony that ties souls together—an ancient union sometimes practiced among Dark Elves. Usually reserved for noble houses forging alliances, it’s rumored to merge magical essences. My father once scorned it as archaic, but now it resonates in my mind like a distant drumbeat.Would Lysandra even consider such a bond—sirens and Dark Elves forging a magic-laced union?

I swallow, nerves twisting in my gut. “We’re building a life on the run, yes, but we can shape it however we choose,” I say,voice husky. “I… I want you as my equal. Not just in battle, or as a symbol for orchard enclaves, but truly. In every sense.”

She draws a soft breath, studying me. “Xelith, I… I feel the same. But how do we formalize that? We have no fortress chapels or priests we trust. The orchard enclaves have no single tradition. And the sirens—my ancestors—no one recalls their rituals.”

My pulse leaps. She’s not rejecting me. Hope flares. “Dark Elves have an older rite,” I venture, words tumbling out. “One not used often, especially after the council took power. It’s said to bind souls as one—magically, physically, spiritually. A vow that surpasses standard marriage, forging a bond the Thirteen themselves can’t break.”

Her eyes widen, illusions flickering at her fingertips, betraying her emotional surge. “A soul bond?” she whispers, voice unsteady. “I’ve heard rumors, but I never thought you’d… we’d…”

I dare to press on, despite the hammering of my heart. “Would you consider it? We’d likely need a solitary witness or a small group. The orchard enclaves might not understand all the details, but we can adapt. We stand as living proof of bridging human and Dark Elf worlds. Why not unite our magic, too?”

She inhales a ragged breath, tears pricking at her eyes. “It sounds… terrifying and beautiful. But I trust you. If it means forging a bond that declares we face everything together, I want that.”

An overwhelming sense of relief, joy, and awe floods me. I slide my arms around her, dragging her body against me, ignoring the damp chill that clings to the air. She rests her palms on my chest, face tilting up. My chest swells with a fierce protectiveness.We might be fugitives, but we’re forging a future—together.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to mine. “But when?” she whispers. “We’re always on the move, always running.”

I stroke her hair gently, letting my gaze sweep over the subterranean pool, the flicker of lanternlight on rippling water. “We don’t have to do it now, but soon. Once we’re sure orchard enclaves are safe for a time, once we’ve found a stable footing. Then, we gather those we trust and perform the rite.”

She nods, voice trembling with a fragile joy. “Yes. We’ll share it with those who fought for our cause, show them that unity isn’t just words.”

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