Page 43 of Chains of Love

"We should make camp," I say, catching her arm as she stumbles over loose rocks. "The mountain's dangerous enough in daylight."

"We're close." She pulls away, summoning a sphere of pale green light that hovers above her palm. "Very close."

The magical glow casts eerie shadows across her face, highlighting the tension in her jaw. Something's different about her – there's an edge to her movements I haven't seen before.

"What's got you so worked up?" I ask, following her around a sharp bend in the path. "You're acting like–"

The words die in my throat as we round the corner. Carved into the mountainside looms a shrine, its ancient stone facade adorned with symbols that make my eyes ache to look at them. The bond quivers, responding to whatever power lingers here.

Lirien approaches the sealed entrance, her fingers tracing patterns in the air. Strange words spill from her lips, each syllable making the air thicken with power. The bond between us thrums like a plucked string.

"Vheskara nai tumult," she whispers, and the stone groans. A seam appears down the center of the wall, spreading like a crack in ice. The entrance parts, revealing darkness beyond.

The green light from her palm stretches into the shadows, but can't penetrate far. Stale air rushes out, carrying the scent of old magic and something else – something that makes my warrior instincts scream in warning.

"After you," she says, but her voice wavers.

The tunnel stretches deeper into the mountain, our footsteps echoing off damp stone walls. Something's off – the bond is plagued with an unfamiliar rhythm, like a second heartbeat trying to sync with my own.

"Lirien." I catch her wrist as she stumbles over loose rocks. "We don't have to do this now. If you're not ready–"

"I'm fine." She pulls away, but her fingers tremble as she adjusts her robes. "This has to be done."

The tunnel curves sharply, opening into a vast chamber that steals my breath. Sunlight streams through crystalline formations in the ceiling, casting rainbow patterns across polished stone floors. Plush rugs cover the ground, and carvedfurniture dots the space – chairs, tables, even a bed tucked into an alcove.

"What in the Abyss…" I whisper. "Someone lives here?"

Lirien's light flickers out, unnecessary in the natural brightness. Books line shelves carved directly into the rock walls. Dried herbs hang from copper racks, their scent still potent after who knows how long. It's more than a shrine – it's a home, preserved as if its occupant might return at any moment.

"Your coven?" I ask, noting the magical implements scattered across a workbench.

Lirien shakes her head, moving deeper into the space.

The bond thrums stronger here, responding to whatever magic saturates this place. Lirien's anxiety bleeds through our connection, sharp and metallic like blood on my tongue.

"We can leave," I offer again. "Find another way."

"There is no other way." She turns to face me, green eyes bright with unshed tears. "Not anymore."

Movement flickers in my peripheral vision. My body reacts before my mind processes – years of combat training taking over. In one fluid motion, I position myself between Lirien and the emerging threats, my blade singing as it leaves its sheath.

Two figures materialize from a shadowed tunnel I hadn't noticed before. The first, a Naga, his tail coiling gracefully as he moves. Behind him towers a beast-man, his massive frame covered in dark fur, sharp teeth gleaming in the crystalline light.

"Stay back," I warn, adjusting my grip on my sword. The bond fills with... excitement? That can't be right.

Lirien's small hand wraps around my sword arm. "They won't hurt me."

I try to shake her off, but she holds firm. "You don't know that–"

"I do." She steps around me, a smile breaking across her face that I've never seen before. Pure joy.

The beast-man bounds forward with surprising grace, closing the distance in two massive strides. My heart stops as his enormous arms wrap around Lirien's waist, lifting her into the air like she weighs nothing. She squeals – actually squeals – as he spins her in circles.

"Put that sword away before you hurt yourself, dark elf," the Naga says, his voice mocking despite the situation. "We've been waiting for our little witch to bring you here."

Lirien's laughter echoes off the chamber walls as the beast-man sets her down, soothing her silver hair with one massive hand. "You've grown even more beautiful, little human."

I lower my blade slowly, mind racing to make sense of this scene. "Lirien, what's going on?"