Page 84 of Crossing Between
"Or perhaps a binding ritual," Varon cut in. "I've heard of methods to contain excess power."
"What about dampeners?" Elias suggested, already pulling out his phone. "I know a witch who specializes in it."
"STOP!" My voice rang out louder than I intended, cutting through their overlapping suggestions. "I wasn't finished!"
All three men froze, falling silent mid-sentence. Quilith let out a musical laugh, their eyes dancing with amusement.
"The Soulbinder has spoken. Perhaps you gentlemen should listen." Quilith raised a brow.
I cleared my throat, feeling a blush creep up my neck at my outburst. "As I was saying. Shanna told me there is a way to manage the power without it killing me." I looked at each of them in turn, suddenly nervous about what I was about to say. "If I complete my connection with all of you, and if you're willing, you can bind yourselves to me. Your combined magic would help stabilize mine and prevent the overload from killing me."
The room fell silent. I could practically see the wheels turning in their minds as they processed this information.
"What exactly does 'complete the connection' mean?" Varon asked carefully, his dark eyes intense.
"She said," I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. "She said it requires physical intimacy, emotional openness, and magical synchronicity." My cheeks burned hotter. "And she said that Kenji would know about the ritual."
All eyes turned to Kenji, whose expression hadtransformed to one of genuine shock. He stood frozen, mouth slightly agape, his blue eyes wide.
"Me?" he finally managed. "Why would I...?" His words cut off abruptly as realization dawned on his face. "Wait, she said I would know? She specifically mentioned me?"
I nodded. "She said your oni would know what to do."
Kenji's expression cycled rapidly through confusion, surprise, and finally understanding. He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking somewhat dazed.
"Holy shit," he breathed. "I think she was talking about the Red String Ritual. But that's just a legend, something the elders used to tell us about. I didn't think it was real."
"The Red String?" Elias prompted.
Kenji nodded slowly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "An ancient oni ritual. It's said to bind souls together with unbreakable bonds, creating a conduit for power to flow between them." He shook his head in disbelief. "But it's just a story, a metaphor for soulmates isn't it?"
Chapter 47: Kenji
I left Varon's mansion around sunset, my mind racing with possibilities. The drive to my grandfather's house was familiar; I'd made this journey countless times before, but tonight felt different. More significant.
The small traditional Japanese house sat nestled between towering oaks. As I pulled into the gravel driveway, the porch light flickered on, and I could see my grandfather's silhouette through the paper screens of the front door.
He opened the door before I could knock, his weathered face creasing into a slight smile. "You look troubled, grandson."
"Hello, Ojiisan," I bowed slightly, following him inside. The house smelled of green tea and sandalwood incense, scents that instantly transported me back to my childhood.
My grandfather moved with deliberate grace despite his age, leading me to the low table in his tea room. The tatami mats were soft beneath my knees as I knelt, watching him prepare tea with practiced movements.
"You've come about the Red String," he stated rather than asked, pouring the steaming liquid into delicate cups.
I shouldn't have been surprised. My grandfatherhad always possessed an uncanny ability to read situations. "Yes. I need to know everything about the binding ceremony."
He took a long sip of his tea, his dark eyes studying me over the rim of the cup. Though his face remained impassive, I could see the calculating look in his gaze. "This is about the Soulbinder girl."
Again, not a question. I nodded, wrapping my hands around the warm cup. He had the sight like I did, but more so.
"Hmm." He set his cup down with a soft click. Rising slowly, he disappeared into another room, returning moments later with an ancient-looking scroll and a modern notebook. "Take notes, grandson. This is important."
For the next hour, he detailed the ceremony with meticulous precision. My hand moved rapidly across the pages as he spoke, documenting every crucial detail. The preparation of the ritual space, the emotional declarations, the exchange of blood, and the channeling of magic. Each phase is more complex and dangerous than the last.
"The physical union at the end," his voice matter-of-fact, "is not merely for pleasure. It completes the magical circuit, binding all participants together permanently."
I felt my cheeks warm slightly, but kept writing. When I finished, I had several pages of detailed notes.
