Under the pitch-black darkness of night, a hut stood alone in the middle of nowhere—a small, weather-beaten structure swallowed whole by the forest. Tall trees crowded close, their branches tangling overhead, blotting out the sky entirely. No road led here. No distant lights answered it. Only darkness surrounded the clearing, broken by the soft glow of oil lamps hung along the hut's interior walls. Their flames flickered gently, painting the rough wooden beams in shifting gold and shadow.
Inside, two figures slept side by side on a narrow bed.
One was a girl—no more than thirteen or fourteen—her hair a pale spill of gold across a thin pillow, her face still soft with youth. The other was a middle-aged woman with long black hair threaded with faint strands of silver, her breathing slow and even, one arm resting protectively near the girl as if by instinct alone.
For a moment, there was only the hush of the forest and the faint crackle of oil in the lamps.
Then the girl stirred.
Freya's brow creased as discomfort tugged her from sleep. At first, it was vague and distant—an unease she couldn't name, slipping through her dreams like a shadow. Then heat flooded her body all at once, sharp and overwhelming, as though fire had been poured directly into her veins.
Her heart began to race, pounding violently against her ribs.
She gasped and sat upright.
The heat vanished.
Cold followed—biting and sudden, sinking deep into her bones. Her skin prickled as though winter itself had settled beneath it. Her heartbeat slowed abruptly, then lurched again, climbing too fast, then dropping, then surging once more.
Hot.
Cold.
Fast.
Slow.
Freya clutched at her chest, breath turning shallow as panic bloomed. Her body refused to obey her, refused to settle, refused to make sense. And then—
She felt it.
Another heartbeat.
Not her own.
It was unmistakable—a second rhythm pulsing in the same region as her heart, close enough to feel yet utterly foreign. Two heartbeats, out of sync: hers stumbling and racing, the other steady for a breath, then accelerating with hers, then drifting away again.
Fear seized her.
Her breathing broke into ragged gasps as magic burst free in response. The oil lamps rattled violently against their hooks. A wooden stool scraped across the floor on its own. A clay bowl flew from a shelf and shattered against the far wall, fragments scattering like startled birds.
The woman beside her jolted awake.
In a single motion, Dahlia was upright, eyes sharp despite the darkness. The air thrummed with wild, unstable magic, thick enough to feel against the skin. She reached for Freya without hesitation, closing her hands around the girl's trembling palms.
They were ice cold.
Then, within the space of a single heartbeat, feverishly hot.
Dahlia's expression hardened with concern. She tightened her grip, grounding and steady, anchoring Freya where her own body could not.
"Freya," she said calmly, firmly. "Look at me. I'm here. Breathe."
Freya's eyes were wide, shining with terror. She tried to speak, but only a broken, shuddering breath escaped her.
"In," Dahlia instructed, drawing in a slow breath herself. "And out. Again."
Freya followed—shakily at first. One breath. Then another. Slowly, the violent tremors in the room began to fade, the magic settling into a tense, brittle stillness. Nothing else moved.
But Freya's body remained out of control.
Her skin still burned, then chilled. Her heart still refused to find a rhythm. And beneath it all, that second heartbeat lingered—distinct, insistent, and wrong.
Dahlia studied her closely. "What's happening?" she asked quietly.
Freya shook her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I—I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know. Make this stop. Please—make this stop."
Dahlia's fingers closed firmly around Freya's delicate hands. Her eyes slid shut as she began to chant under her breath—words old and sharp, woven tightly with power. The oil lamps flared brighter for a moment as magic answered her call, gathering around them, seeking order where chaos had taken hold.
After a while everything calmed down the anamoly Calmed down and Dahlia suddenly let go of Freya's hand.
"Esther my dear little sister, should I thank you for the gift or ... "
A few moments earlier — Ritual Location:
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky washed in deepening shades of violet and blue. The evening star shimmered faintly, the moon rising beside it.
Ayana lifted her gaze. "The sun has set," she said. "The evening star and the moon are both visible. We begin now. This must be completed before full darkness."
Adrian stood alone within one ritual circle, symbols etched into the earth beneath his feet. Across from him, in a second circle, stood Rebekah with Mikael and Esther flanking her.
Ayana began chanting, her voice steady and precise. The spell built slowly, layered and deliberate, continuing uninterrupted for a full minute.
When she stopped, the air itself felt heavier.
"The spell has begun to take effect," Ayana said. "From this moment forward, there will be no physical contact between opposite genders until the ritual is complete—two days from now."
She turned, raising her hands slightly. "We proceed to the oath. By the witness of all elements—fire, water, wind, and earth—you shall swear this bond."
From thin air, water gathered and fell, pooling into a shallow puddle at the intersection of the two magic circles. The ground trembled as moisture rose from the soil itself, drawn upward by unseen hands. Esther and Mikael knelt, their fingers pressing into the damp earth alongside Adrian's grandmother. Together, they shaped a rough, humble bowl from newly formed clay.
When it was finished, the bowl was placed into the small hands of Adrian and Rebekah.
"Bekah," Esther said gently, kneeling beside her. "Don't be scared. I'm right here. Remember—we're just playing a game. Hold the bowl with Adrian, all right?"
Rebekah did not hesitate to her it was just a game that she is happily participating, fingers curling back instinctively as magic pulsed beneath the clay. Her eyes flicked from the glowing symbols to the circle beneath her feet.
Adrian crouched beside her, his voice low and steady. "It's all right, Rebekah. Just hold it."
He placed his palm gently over hers, steadying the bowl.
Adrian's POV:
The moment my hand touched hers, heat flooded my body—sharp and overwhelming, as though fire had been poured directly into my veins. My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
Then the heat vanished.
Cold followed—biting and deep, as if frost were forming beneath my skin. My heartbeat slowed, then surged again. Hot when it slowed. Cold when it raced. Over and over, alternating, relentless.
It feels wrong.
It hurts—but not the way an injury hurts.
My skin feels like it's on fire, but it isn't burning. I know it isn't. Before my nerves can react, the heat snaps into prickling cold, like needles piercing my skin—then it changes again.
My heart beats so fast it makes me nauseous, like I've been running for miles without stopping.
I force my eyes open, focusing on the bowl, on not letting go. Rebekah is staring at me—scared, panicked—but she isn't struggling. She isn't feeling any of this.
Then I feel it.
Another heartbeat.
Not mine.
A second rhythm, right where my own heart should be. Two heartbeats, out of sync. As time passes, I can no longer tell which one is mine and which is foreign.
Ayana raised her hands.
Fire leapt to life within the bowl—bright orange tongues licking at the clay. Rebekah flinched, a sharp breath catching in her throat as the heat bloomed outward, the bowl trembling in her grip.
"Hold steady," Esther murmured from beside her.
"Don't be scared," she added softly. "Don't worry about Adrian—it's part of the game. He's just making faces."
The heat hardened the clay, drawing the remaining moisture into a small pool at the bottom. Then the wind came—violent and sudden, twisting the flames into a spiraling vortex above the bowl. Rebekah whimpered, instinctively leaning closer to Adrian as the air roared around them completing the 4 elements of nature.
"You're doing perfectly," Ayana said, her voice cutting cleanly through the chaos. "Keep holding."
The wind carried the scent of rain, the crackle of lightning, raw power barely restrained—chaotic, yet contained.
Ayana's voice rang out once more.
"Esther. Mikael. Under the witness of the elements of nature, do you swear to give the hand of your firstborn, Freya, in union to Adrian Everhart? Do you accept him as kin and vow to guide his wellbeing—in health and in knowledge—to the best of your abilities?"
"Yes" Esther said, firm and unwavering.
"Yes," Mikael echoed.
Ayana turned to Adrian. "And you, Adrian Everhart—do you accept this oath, their guidance, and take their daughter as your partner?"
Adrian inclined his head with effort. "I do."
The fire blazed brightly—then collapsed. The wind died with it. The bowl glowed faintly as calm settled over the clearing.
"Now," Ayana said, "Rebekah, make Adrian drink. Then Adrian, make Rebekah drink."
Rebekah hesitated, glancing up at her parents. Mikael nodded. Esther smiled.
Adrian drank first. Then guided the bowl back to Rebekah, helping her take a careful sip.
The alternating heat and cold vanished. The wild rise and fall of heartbeats stilled.
The two distinct rhythms slowly synchronized—beating together, as one.
And then, finally, only one heartbeat remained.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey guys do you think I should create a OC female character a love interest of Asian descent that he will meet while travelling all over the world looking to find the solution to his problem, what do you think give your opinions.