Page 8 of Aries

“Know that these trials cannot be falsified. Our species exists partially in the psychic realm—we perceive emotional resonance as clearly as you see light. Deception is impossible, but the heart’s evolution remains its own mystery.”

Another member continues, although their voices sound exactly the same. “Many have tried to deceive us—their failures were… immediate and final. True redemption requires true connection.” Their multilayered voice holds no room for doubt.

My eyes fly wide as my stomach bottoms out. They couldn’t have shared that informationbeforewe completed the bond? “Powerful perceptive abilities” sounded like they were really good at reading body language and facial clues. Now that we’ve committed ourselves, they tell us they’ll be able to psychically suss out if we’re truly committed? Trulyin love?

What have we gotten ourselves into?

“You will be escorted to your assigned dwelling,” another adds. “From this moment, all contact with others is forbidden unless explicitly approved. You have ninety days to prove your bond genuine through the completion of assigned trials. Failure means death for Aries Dravek Zavalon. Success means life and freedom to choose your path forward.”

He motions for us to rise. “As we said, our telepathic abilities allow us to sense genuine emotional connections. Theenergy fields we generate can detect physical contact at the molecular level. These cottages exist in a dimensional pocket where we monitor all activities through quantum resonance. Attempting to manipulate or deceive the trials will result in immediate detection.”

“Now, you will face your future together.”

We turn toward the door that will lead to our shared isolation. Ninety days to convince everyone, including ourselves, that this is real. Ninety days to either heal what broke between us or watch him die.

The memory of those boar-faced Urlut guards shoving food through the cell bars feels distant now, belonging to a different lifetime. A different us. Back then, we could barely look at each other as we ate our meager rations. Now…

“This isn’t going to be like that cell,” he says suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. His voice is rough with emotion. “I won’t—” He breaks off, swallowing hard. “I am not that person anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

The door opens, revealing a path that will either lead to his redemption or his execution. To the healing of old wounds or the creation of new ones. The lingering sweetness of honey and fruit mingles with the spicy scent of his skin, making my head spin with possibilities and fears.

Together, we step through.

Chapter Six

Callie

“Stone walls. Climbing vines. Windows drunk on golden sunlight. Our new prison looks like something from a fairy tale—if fairy tales included psychological warfare and forced proximity. Also? This isn’t just a tiny house, it’s almost microscopic.”

“Home sweet home,” I mutter, following the Redemption Committee member up the winding path. Aries walks beside me, his tightly controlled irritation a constant reminder of what we’ve committed to.

“The dwelling is designed to prevent physical and emotional distance,” our guide explains, their multilayered voice echoing slightly.

The Sanctorii invited the Fractali to oversee their Redemption Rites centuries ago, after their own empathic abilities—which manifest as visible emotional auras—proved too merciful for fair judgment. The Fractali’s crystalline nature allows them to perceive truth without the emotional interference that compromises Sanctorii objectivity.

“The Redemption Committee consists of three Fractali,” the central figure explains, their crystalline forms catching the morning light. “For routine observations and daily check-ins, one member will attend. For major trials and significant announcements, all three will be present. Theimportance of our full presence indicates the gravity of the moment.”

He opens the door and motions us inside.

“You will find this abode encourages natural interaction through proximity.”

That’s one way of putting it. The main room can’t be more than twenty feet across, with a small kitchen area, a sitting space, and what looks like a meditation corner with cushions. A narrow archway leads to what must be the bedroom.

One bedroom. Of course.

“Physical contact outside prescribed rituals results in marks against your progress. Three marks means failure.”

And failure means they drag Aries to the execution chamber within the hour. The Fractali have never granted clemency to those who attempt to deceive their sacred process. Ever.

The Committee member’s crystalline form shifts, catching the light. “These trials were designed to reveal the truth of the heart. For those who have earned death, only genuine transformation through love can grant redemption. We do not merely seek compliance—we seek the rebirth of a soul.”

Aries and I have said nothing more intimate than “pass the salt” in five years. Now we have ninety days to prove we love each other? We don’t even like each other, nor do we know each other. And the stakes couldn’t be higher. This male’s life is on the line.

“Your first task begins at sunrise,” the Committee member continues, setting a thick book on the small table. “The Manual of Customs contains all required daily rituals and practices. Failure to complete any ritual results in a mark against your progress.”

My throat tightens at the reminder of what failure means. Aries shifts beside me, his elbow brushing me in what might be reassurance.

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