Page 75 of Bound In Shadow

Jessan gestures for me to place my hands over the bowl of orchard dust. She then motions for Xelith to do the same. Our palms hover inches above the sparkling mixture. A soft hush falls, and I feel orchard magic tingling my skin— or maybe it’s just my illusions, awakened by my heightened emotion.

Jessan sprinkles a few pinches of the dust into the bowl of water, stirring the two elements together. The water shimmers, pale silver motes drifting through it like tiny stars. My breath catches.It’s beautiful,reminiscent of how illusions danced in the fortress halls when Lysandra enthralled guards for our survival. This time, it’s a dance of creation, not destruction.

Xelith inhales, addressing the watchers in a voice steady despite his tension. “I stand here, an exiled prince with no throne but the orchard’s acceptance. I vow to protect these enclaves, to defend those who dwell in the farmland from the council’s tyranny. And I vow my life to Lysandra, who taught me that compassion is not weakness, and that a throne gained by cruelty is no throne at all.”

My heart thuds at his words. He glances my way, shadows flickering around his arms— a subdued echo of the magic he once wielded to kill fortress nobles who threatened me. Now, those shadows swirl with a sense of reverence, not aggression. My chest tightens with affection so potent it steals my breath.

He finishes, voice breaking slightly: “I offer my magic, my shadows, to unite with her illusions and enthrallment. Together, we create a power that serves freedom, not fear.”

Silence stretches. My turn. My throat constricts, and illusions flicker around my fingertips, reflecting my nerves. I swallow, voice trembling as I face him fully. “I… I stand here as Lysandra Riven, once a rebel with nothing but hatred for Dark Elves. But you changed that, Xelith. You showed me not all Dark Elves crave destruction. You risked exile, your own life, to keep me from the council’s blade.”

I pause, shifting my weight. Emotions surge, and illusions swirl in pastel lights across the cavern walls. Soft gasps ripple among the watchers, but I push forward. “I vow to remain at your side, not as captive or tool, but as partner, forging a new future. My illusions and siren voice are yours, and we shape them into a shield for these orchard enclaves. I vow to never wield my power for oppression—only to protect what we cherish.”

A tear escapes my eye, but I let it fall, my voice soft yet echoing in the hush. “I accept your shadows as part of me, and I offer my illusions as part of you, so that no tyranny can break us.”

With those words, Jessan lifts a carved wooden ladle from a cloth and dips it into the shimmering water, swirling the orchard dust into a faint glow. “Place your hands atop each other’s,” she instructs gently.

We do, my palms pressed against Xelith’s, the warmth of his skin soothing my trembling. She pours a trickle of silver water over our joined hands, the droplets sliding down our wrists, merging with orchard dust to form glistening streaks. A soft jolt of magic crackles, like static, making me inhale sharply.Is that the soul-binding forming?

A ripple of awe passes through the watchers. Takar’s eyes widen, orchard fighters exchange hushed exclamations, and a few disillusioned Dark Elves stare at the silver droplets as if witnessing a miracle.We are forging a union that has never existed— Siren illusions and Dark Elf shadows, orchard blossoms and fortress steel.

Then Jessan steps back, giving us space. We hold our joined hands aloft, water dripping onto the stone floor. Xelith’s voice drops to a reverent hush: “By the orchard’s blessing and the old ways of my people, I bind my life to yours, Lysandra. May the shadows heed you as they heed me.”

My illusions flutter in response, dancing across his arms. I channel a thread of siren power into my words. “By farmland devotion and the siren’s call, I bind my magic to yours. May illusions weave your shadows into hope, never fear.”

The silver water around our wrists gleams brighter, as though acknowledging our vow. My heart pounds, illusions intensifying. A swirl of orchard blossoms materializes from the shimmering air, conjured by my imagination or by the orchard dust’s synergy—I can’t be sure. They drift around us in luminous arcs, painting the cavern with soft pastel hues.

Xelith exhales, eyes shining with wonder. The watchers gasp. Tali covers her mouth, orchard rebels gaping at the gentle spectacle. Even Takar’s stoic facade cracks into an astonished grin.They see it too.This is real magic, uniting me and Xelith beyond mortal measure.

Then I feel a tug, a subtle shift in my core, like two energies entwining. Xelith trembles as well, shadows swirling around his shoulders, merging with the illusions that circle us. I sense the illusions slip into the darkness, forming patterns that glow with an otherworldly light. It’s as though a new magic is being born from our vow, weaving illusions and shadows together in a shimmering tapestry.

I sense the illusions slip into Xelith's shadows, forming patterns that glow with an otherworldly light, dancing across our joined hands. Something in my chest expands, as though I've gained a second heartbeat—a faint echo of Xelith's presence. My sirenblood hums, not in enthrallment but in synergy. I almost collapse from the intensity, yet Xelith's grip steadies me.

We hold each other’s gaze, the orchard blossoms drifting around us, swirling with gentle splendor. The watchers look on, transfixed. Then, softly, Jessan steps forward, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. “Let it be known,” she says, her voicetrembling with awe, “that Lysandra Riven and Xelith Vaeranthe stand soul-bound, forging into one.”

A hush. Then rebels and exiled Dark Elves alike break into murmurs of wonder, some offering cautious applause. The tension, the fear that once divided them, seems to erode in this radiant moment. My illusions glow, then gradually subside, revealing the ring of watchers in the flicker of lanternlight.

Xelith lowers our joined hands, water still dripping from our wrists. We face each other, breath uneven. “Are you all right?” he asks, voice taut with concern.

I let out a tremulous laugh, tears pricking my eyes. “I feel… everything,” I confess. My body tingles with new magic, a sense that Xelith’s shadows dwell in my consciousness, while my illusions linger around his. “It’s like we share a heartbeat.”

He exhales, a shiver running through him. “Yes. That’s exactly what it feels like. A tether, or a current linking us.”

The orchard watchers crowd closer in a respectful circle, wanting to see if we’ve truly bonded. Takar stands near the front, arms crossed, a proud grin softening his rugged features. “I’ll be damned,” he says under his breath, voice just loud enough to reach me. “Never thought I’d see such a thing.”

I can only nod, chest too tight for words.This is no mortal wedding.We are bound on a level I can’t fully articulate. Even the orchard illusions that swirl in my mind feel shaped by Xelith’s presence now, as though he can guide them if he tries. My heart races at the possibilities—and the vulnerability. We are tied so profoundly that we might sense each other’s fears or hopes without speaking.

Tali steps forward, carrying a small wooden box. She opens it, revealing two thin, braided cords—one black as night, the other pale silver. She offers them with a shy smile. “We orchard folk… we don’t have elaborate ceremonies, but we made thesecords as a token for you both. Let them mark the vow you just spoke.”

Xelith and I each take a cord, exchanging a glance. Gently, we tie them around each other’s wrists, layering them over the damp orchard dust that still clings to our skin. The black cord for his shadows, the silver cord for my illusions, twined together in a simple symbol. The watchers murmur approval.

Jessan, eyes shining with tears, pronounces in a wavering voice, “By orchard and oath, by illusions and shadows, you are bound. May the farmland shelter you, may your union protect us all from the fortress’s shadow.”

A wave of applause, soft but genuine, fills the cavern. I exhale in a rush, relief flooding me. My illusions slip away, the orchard blossoms dissipating in faint motes of light. Xelith touches his brow to mine, ignoring the spectators. In that moment, I realize we are truly, irrevocably joined, a step beyond mere marriage. My siren heart thrums in tandem with his Dark Elf magic. I can sense his gratitude, his awe, as if they color the air around us.

He cups my cheek, voice trembling with emotion. “Lysandra… I have no words.”

I laugh softly through tears. “We don’t need them.”

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