Page 29 of Bound By Blood
Looking into her storm-grey eyes, moonlight reflecting off the water between us, I realize the answer was never in doubt.
"I'm willing to accept that risk," I say.
She steps closer, near enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "Then let's discover the truth."
Her hands rise to frame my face, fingertips tracing the ceremonial scarification along my jawline. The touch ignites something deep in my chest—not mere physical attraction, but recognition. As if some fundamental part of me had been waiting for this exact moment, this precise connection.
Recognition.
My hands find her waist, pulling her closer until our bodies almost touch. The water swirls around our legs, disturbed by our movement, but the sound fades beneath the thundering of my pulse.
"Eirian," I whisper.
"Drokhan."
When our lips meet, the world catches fire.
Heat explodes through the chamber like a forge blast, radiating from the point where our bodies connect. The obsidian candles flare brighter, their flames stretching toward the cavern ceiling. Steam billows from the pool's surface as the water temperature spikes.
Fifth Flame origin sequence. Kheval awakening glyphs.
The knowledge surfaces without conscious thought, ancient words in a language older than either of our peoples. Power flows between us like molten metal, transforming two separate beings into something unified and incandescent.
Her hands tangle in my hair as the kiss deepens, and I taste lightning on her tongue. Every nerve ending blazes with a sensation that transcends mere physical pleasure. This is what the elders callkheval-mor, spirit recognition, when two souls acknowledge their fundamental compatibility.
This is what my mother meant when she spoke of connections that transcend bloodline and culture.
The heat radiating from our joined bodies grows so intense that the pool water bubbles. Steam fills the chamber like sacred smoke, carrying ozone and burning sage. The volcanic glass walls reflect our mingled energy as dancing patterns of light and shadow.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing hard. Her eyes have gone wide with wonder and what might be fear.
The candle flames settle back to normal height, but the chamber still thrums with residual energy. The pool water continues steaming at a temperature that would be painful under ordinary circumstances, but feels perfectly comfortable against our skin.
Spirit-bond activated. The connection is no longer theoretical. It's becomes a physical reality.
"The glyphs," she says, staring at my chest where faint luminescent markings have appeared beneath the skin. "They're beautiful."
I look down and see the Kheval origin symbols glowing softly along my collarbone: intertwining spirals that represent the merger of two distinct spiritual essences. Similar markings have appeared on her arms, weaving through her existing willow-and-chalice tattoos like silver thread.
Permanent marking. Visible proof of what just occurred between us.
"Your people," I say. "How will they react when they see those markings?"
"They'll know I've undergone a profound spiritual transformation." Her fingers trace the new glyphs along her forearm. "Whether they interpret that as blessing or curse will depend on political considerations I can't control."
Political considerations that could brand her as traitor, exile, or worse.
"And you're still willing to accept the bond, knowing those risks?"
She steps closer again, her hands resting against my chest where the Kheval markings pulse with gentle warmth. "The bond has already been accepted. What happened between us wasn't a proposal or negotiation. It was recognition of something that already existed."
Already existed.The truth of it resonates through my bones. This connection didn't begin when she healed my fever or even when our eyes met across the battlefield. It started somewhere deeper, in whatever realm of existence souls occupy before they incarnate into physical form.
Destined, then. Written in the mountain's heart-stone before either of us drew breath.
"Three days," I say. "The council gave you three days to decide."
"The council can have their three days for political theater." She rises on her toes and kisses me again, brief but intense. "The real decision was made the moment I touched you beside that first healing pool."
