Morning arrived not with sunlight, but with the violent, shared sensation of a nightmare.
Leonis was back in the silence of the world's end. The cold. The hollow void where mana, life, and hope had been extinguished. He was reaching for something, someone—a silhouette with hair like moonlight falling to ash.
A jolt of searing, foreign terror ripped him awake.
He gasped, sitting up. Beside him, Elara was also upright, her knuckles white where she gripped the sheets, her breathing ragged. Her violet eyes were wide, unfocused, seeing something else. He felt it—the claustrophobic panic, the feeling of hands grabbing in the dark, the sound of a cruel, cultured laugh that wasn't her uncle's.
They had shared the nightmare. His apocalyptic finale had bled into her personal trauma, creating a monstrous hybrid of dread.
For a full minute, they just breathed, listening to the dual thunder of their hearts, trying to separate which tremors were their own.
"Your memories are a pestilence," Elara finally whispered, her voice raw.
"Your fears are a distraction," Leonis countered, but the edge was gone. There was no defense against this intimacy. It was a violation that went both ways.
The day's agenda was a special "Academy Unity Gala," a pretense for the nobility to scout talent and forge alliances. For them, it was their debut as a betrothed pair. A performance.
Their provided apartment had a connecting dressing room. Elara emerged first. She wore a gown of deep amethyst, the color of a bruise or royalty, depending on the light. It was deceptively simple, cut to allow movement, the sleeves long and slitted. Her moonlight hair was pinned up, exposing the pale line of her neck. She looked every inch the imperial princess—cold, beautiful, and sharp enough to draw blood.
Leonis wore the formal uniform of a senior academy student, dark blue with silver piping, but a tailor had already modified it. The cuffs were tighter, the cut more martial. A place for hidden blades, he noted approvingly. The Empire was preparing them for war even in this.
"You look like a palace guard," Elara said, not looking at him as she fastened a silver pendant around her neck.
"You look like a target," he replied, checking the window's sightlines.
A flicker of amusement, dark and genuine, crossed the bond from her. "Finally, something we agree on."
The gala was held in the Academy's Grand Atrium, a vast space where magical crystalline trees glowed with soft light and floating platforms held musicians. The air hummed with conversation, perfume, and the subtle crackle of competitive mana.
Their entrance was not subtle.
Heads turned. Conversations died. The bond between them, now a constant, low-grade awareness, seemed to thicken the air around them. They were a walking anomaly.
Elara's hand came up, hooking lightly around Leonis's offered elbow. A necessary, minimal touch. The moment her fingers brushed the fabric of his coat, the resonance sparked. The glow of the crystalline trees near them brightened momentarily. A few sharp-eyed mages noticed, their eyes narrowing.
"Princess Elara! And the fortunate betrothed!" A portly Duke approached, his smile oily. "A blessing for the Empire! Such a powerful bond must be a sign of the Mana Springs' favor!"
Elara's smile was a masterpiece of condescension. "Indeed, Duke Halvern. It is a burden we bear for the Realm's security." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper the Duke strained to hear. "One must be so careful with such volatile power. Why, just this morning, a shared sneeze nearly shattered our window."
The Duke blinked, unsure if he was being mocked. Leonis felt the razor-shine of her satisfaction.
They moved through the crowd, a dance of whispered barbs and political reconnaissance. Elara named them all under her breath, a torrent of information Leonis filed away.
"Countess Revna. Poison specialist. Her husband died 'unexpectedly.' Avoid her wine."
"Lord Feron. Head of the Magical Artifact Bureau. Greedy. Can be bought."
"General Korbin. Straightforward. Hates politicians. Potential ally if you speak of tactics and nothing else."
Leonis, in turn, pointed out the temporal anomalies—people who were in the wrong place, too powerful too early, or acting on knowledge they shouldn't have. "That junior mage by the fountain. In the last three timelines, he didn't develop fire-affinity until after the first demon wave. Someone has accelerated his growth."
Elara stored the information, her eyes gleaming with predatory interest. "My uncle's faction. He's investing in early assets."
It was a terrifyingly efficient partnership. Her deep, insider knowledge of the present court complemented his sweeping, apocalyptic knowledge of the future. For a few moments, the sheer utility of it overshadowed the mutual loathing.
Then, the test came.
Baron Vertra glided over, a glass of amber liquor in hand. With him was a tall, handsome young man with sun-kissed hair and a smile that seemed to warm the air around him. Leonis's entire being went cold. A different kind of cold than the end of the world. This was the cold of recognition, of a foundational pillar of the timeline clicking into place.
Kaelan Dawnfire.
The "Hero."
The public face of light and virtue.
And, in every single timeline, the secret architect of Elara's final, world-shattering betrayal.
"Children," the Baron said jovially. "Allow me to introduce the newest rising star of the Holy Church's Templar Order, recently transferred to our Academy. Paladin-Apprentice Kaelan Dawnfire. He has expressed great interest in studying unique magical phenomena for the Church's archives."
Kaelan's eyes were the color of a summer sky. His bow was flawless, respectful. "Princess. Lord Leonis. The tales of your bond do not do you justice. The harmony of your auras is… breathtaking." His voice was sincere, warm. Leonis felt Elara's instinctive, slight thaw at the tone. Kaelan had that effect. He was made to be trusted.
Leonis felt a surge of protective fury so violent it shocked him. It wasn't his. It was hers. A raw, primal reaction that bypassed her conscious mind. The bond screamed with her hidden, forgotten trauma—a flash of a similar smile in a dark place, a promise of protection that became a knife.
Elara's fingers tightened on Leonis's arm, her nails digging in. The physical pain was nothing. The emotional tsunami behind it was everything. She didn't remember Kaelan from her past—not yet. But her soul, the soul connected to Leonis's, recognized the poison.
"Thank you," Elara said, her voice miraculously steady. "But we are not an archive specimen."
"Of course not!" Kaelan laughed, a pleasant sound. "Forgive me. I am simply in awe. Such a bond must require incredible trust. It is a beautiful thing to witness."
The word "trust" hung in the air, vile and mocking.
The Baron smiled. "Speaking of witnessing! We must demonstrate the practical benefits of this blessing. For the security of the Realm, of course. A small exhibition? The courtyard training grounds are prepared."
It was a command, not a request. The crowd, sensing spectacle, began to drift towards the arched doors leading outside.
This was the trap. To see what they could do. To measure the weapon.
The courtyard was ringed with spectators. At its center stood two Academy combat mages in practice gear, their stances professional and confident. They were faculty, not students.
"The rules are simple," the Baron announced, addressing the crowd. "A test of defensive synergy. Our bound pair will defend against a sustained magical barrage. No offensive spells. Let us see the strength of their union."
A defense test. It seemed safe. But Leonis saw the gleam in the Baron's eye. He wanted to see the limits. He wanted to see them break.
Elara dropped her hand from Leonis's arm. The resonant hum diminished. She looked at him, and for the first time, there was no hatred in her eyes. There was a cold, clear understanding. They were in the arena together. The wolves were watching.
"We need contact," Leonis said lowly. "Maximum resonance."
"Obviously," she snapped, but her anger was focused outward now. "How do you want to do this? Back-to-back is traditional, but it limits field of vision."
Leonis thought of the amplification. The shared senses. "Close. Face the same direction. My hand on your shoulder. Your hand over mine."
It was an intimate, guiding stance. A leader and his partner. He felt her bristle at the implied hierarchy, but she saw the tactical sense. It would look like he was supporting her, a politically palatable image, while allowing her to be the primary caster with his power as her amplifier.
They took their position. His left hand settled firmly on her right shoulder. Her smaller, colder hand came up to clamp over his. The connection slammed into place.
The world sharpened. The flow of mana in the air became visible threads. He could feel the gathering power of the two opposing mages—a crackling lightning bolt and a hail of ice shards. He could feel Elara's mind racing through spell-forms, her immense, chaotic power surging to the surface, now channeled, focused, and multiplied.
The attack came.
The lightning bolt was fast, meant to test reflexes. Before Leonis could even form a thought, Elara's free hand flicked. A wall of layered, hexagonal ice mirrors erupted from the ground. The lightning hit the first mirror, refracting, splitting, hitting the next, splitting again, until the energy dissipated harmlessly in a shower of sparks.
The crowd oohed.
The ice hail followed, a wide-area assault. Elara shifted her stance. Leonis felt her intent a fraction of a second before she acted. He pushed his mana into the bond, not directing it, but fueling her. She gestured broadly.
The ground at their feet melted upward, forming a swirling dome of water that solidified instantly into a perfect, smooth hemisphere of stone. The ice shards shattered against it uselessly.
The two attacking mages looked at each other, then nodded. They began a combined assault, layering spells, increasing complexity and power. A web of lightning sought to trap them while localized gravity wells tried to crush the stone dome.
Elara was breathing quickly now, but her eyes were alight with a fierce, wild joy. The power was intoxicating. Leonis acted. He couldn't cast, but he could guide. He fed her a memory—a spell-form from a timeline three regressions ago, a spatial dispersal technique.
She understood instantly. She released the stone dome and, with their joined hands still connected, she thrust her free hand forward. The air in front of them rippled. The incoming web of lightning and the crushing gravity fields hit the ripple and splintered, their mana dispersing in a thousand harmless directions like light through a prism.
The display was over. The courtyard was silent.
Then, applause. Polite, stunned.
Elara dropped her hand, breaking their contact. The sudden silence in their senses was deafening. They were both sweating, breathing hard. The amplification was immense, but the cost was a shared mental and physical exhaustion.
Kaelan stepped forward, his applause the loudest, his smile the warmest. "Magnificent! Truly, a bond blessed by the Springs! The Empire is safer for it." His eyes, however, were on their faces, studying the sweat, the rapid breath, the way they leaned slightly towards each other, pulled by the bond's need. He was not just admiring the show. He was assessing the strain, the dependency.
As the crowd closed in around them with congratulations, Leonis leaned close to Elara's ear. The scent of her hair, frost and jasmine, mixed with the ozone of spent magic.
"He's the one," Leonis breathed, the words lost in the noise. "The one who breaks you. In every time."
He felt her go rigid. Not with fear. With a terrifying, glacial certainty. She looked across the crowd at Kaelan, who met her gaze and offered a benevolent, heroic smile.
Her whisper back was a vow, sealed in the echo of their shared heartbeat.
"Then we break him first."