Page 53 of Burned to Obey

I run blindly, mind reeling with fear and guilt. If Saru rejects me for dabbling in chaos-laced knowledge, I wouldn’t blame him. The entire fortress might demand answers. Thakur will pounce on this. My footsteps echo in the gloom, tears stinging. I pass confused inmates who barely register me before I vanish around the next bend. I need somewhere quiet, somewhere I can hide. The Bastion’s forge—abandoned at this hour—should be empty.

Panting, I arrive at the old forge chamber cut into the fortress’s lower levels. It smells of ash and stale heat, long unused since the main smithy took over. I slip inside, bolting the door behind me. The darkness swallows me, broken only by a single dormant brazier in the corner. My chest heaves as I slump to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

He’s alive. That’s all that matters, I tell myself. But the swirl of terror won’t fade. I revealed my ability to neutralize chaos toxins, something no ordinary human can do. Even if Saru forgives me, the Senate might see me as a tool or threat. Thakur could twist this to claim I’m a monstrous abomination. My brand might not shield me from that fallout.

I recall how Saru looked as he convulsed, terror etched in every line. I recall how the convulsions ceased when I harnessed that Nullborn trait. The memory leaves me shaky. I neverwanted to use it, to confirm the rumors that I carry the legacy of forcibly bred human lines meant to quell chaos. It’s a cursed heritage, a brand deeper than anything on my skin.

Swallowing my sob, I stare at the silent forge, old coals heaped in a bin. My entire life I dreaded becoming a tool for dark elves if they discovered me. Now I risk becoming a pawn for minotaurs if the Bastion sees value in my power. And Saru… he might recoil at the notion that I can snuff out chaos with a mere thought. Our bond from last night could shatter under the weight of this secret.

The hours drag as I remain crouched against the cold anvil, arms wrapped around my knees. I consider fleeing the Bastion altogether, but where would I run? The brand ties me here, and the outside world might be even more perilous. If the Senate hunts me, I’m doomed alone. My entire existence feels caged by two brands: the forced crest on my flesh and the Nullborn blood in my veins.

Eventually, the door scrapes open, flooding the forge with torchlight. My heart leaps into my throat. Have they come to arrest me? I stiffen, half-rising, fists clenched. Then I see Saru step in, leaning on the doorframe, breathing ragged. A faint bandage wraps his torso, and sweat beads along his temple. He looks weak but alive, eyes burning with frantic concern.

He shuts the door behind him, gaze darting around until he spots me in the corner by the anvil. I catch my breath, tears threatening again. He crosses the chamber in halting steps. “Naeva,” he says, voice hoarse. “You saved me.”

I shudder, turning my face away. “Don’t come closer. I can’t—” My words fail.

He presses on, ignoring my plea, kneeling beside me. The closeness radiates heat. His horns tilt, each breath labored from the aftershocks of poison. “You fled,” he murmurs. “Why?”

I shake my head, tears slipping free. “Because I used something unnatural. People saw me. You saw me. Now you know I’m… different. I didn’t want you to despise me.”

He frowns, reaching a hand toward my shoulder, then stopping short, uncertain. “You speak nonsense. You saved my life.”

My voice trembles with raw fear. “They’ll call me a monster. A Nullborn freak. The Senate will exploit it. You might too.”

He stiffens, realization dawning. “That was chaos poison, wasn’t it? And you— you neutralized it.”

I hug myself, nodding brokenly. “I must be Nullborn. It’s why the dark elf spells fizzled before. Why your poison eased. My entire life, I hid it. I want no part of their breeding horrors.”

He exhales, expression torn between shock and fierce resolve. “I see. So this is the secret that haunts you.”

Tears blur my vision. “Yes. I thought you’d reject me now.” My voice cracks. “We just… last night… everything. I can’t stand the thought you might see me as some tool or threat.”

His breath shudders. “Naeva…” He reaches out gently, grasping my wrist. My brand stings under his hold, as if reminding me of the vow that ties us. He draws me close, ignoring the protest in his own battered body. “I don’t care if you’re Nullborn or not. You saved me. That’s all that matters.”

I tremble, disbelieving. “Even if Thakur uses it against me—calls me an abomination?”

His jaw clenches. “Then I’ll stand against him. The brand protects you. And if that fails, I will not let them take you.” His voice is quiet but unyielding. “Nullborn or otherwise, you’re mine under this crest. We define its meaning, not them.”

Relief floods me, but I’m still fragile with shame and fear. “They saw me, Saru. Your guards. They might talk.”

He nods grimly. “They might. But I’ll handle it. My sister is a senator. She can help quell any gossip or reframe it asa specialized skill you learned in the forges. We’ll navigate carefully.”

My eyes sting with tears. Part of me wants to trust him, to collapse into the warmth of his acceptance. Another part warns me that not even his influence might shield me from a determined Senate. But the sincerity in his gaze breaks through my doubt.

Tentatively, I let him pull me into a gentle embrace. He’s exhausted, leaning on me for support, yet determined to comfort. I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of charred metal and dried blood. He’s alive, thanks to me. That realization alone shakes me to my core. I cling to him, letting sobs tear free, all the tension of the day. He strokes my hair, horns tilting to rest near my temple.

Minutes pass in that silent communion, the old forge echoing with the hush of our breaths. At length, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Come back with me,” he says. “No more hiding. The Bastion’s healers want to see you, too. They worry for your state after channeling such energy.”

I blink away tears, breath unsteady. “I can’t face them. They’ll ask questions.”

He cups my cheek, voice firm. “I’ll answer for you. Let them see me at your side. If Thakur or anyone tries to spin it, we’ll spin it better.” A pause, then a soft confession. “I thought I was dying, Naeva. The last thing I felt was your touch, and it… it gave me hope. Don’t run from me now.”

My throat constricts. “All right,” I whisper. “But if it becomes too dangerous?—”

He cuts me off, shaking his head. “We face it together.”

Something in his words unravels my last shred of resistance. I let him help me stand, ignoring the swirl of dizziness from the emotional storm. My body screams with fatigue—saving him drained me in ways I barely grasp. He’s no better, swayingslightly until I wrap an arm around his waist to steady him. The brand on my forearm brushes his side, a quiet reminder of everything that’s changed between us.

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