The raven came at dawn, its black wings slicing the cold air as it landed on the balcony rail outside my room.
I was already awake because I hadn’t slept—at least not in any way that counted. The dreams had grown worse, and my body still remembered hers: her scent, her hands, her voice. I walked over slowly, my heart pounding harder than it should have. The raven cocked its head as if it knew why it had come, as if it felt the bond too.
Tied to its leg was a rolled piece of parchment. I took it with a trembling hand. The handwriting was sharp, familiar. Raena. Just six words:
“I didn’t mean to mark you.”
I stared at the message until the letters blurred. There was no signature, no explanation, and no demand—only that single admission. Still, it struck like a blade driven straight through my chest. I didn’t answer, at least not right away.
I tucked the note into the drawer beside my bed and slammed it shut, as if that could force her out of my head. It didn’t. The bond throbbed at the back of my mind all day. Every time I moved, I felt her. Every time I drew a deep breath, I caught her scent.
Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw her face—those gold eyes full of fire and confusion, full of something I still could not name.
Later that evening, I was out in the training yard, alone beneath the fading light. Everyone else had turned in, but I couldn’t stop moving. I needed the ache in my muscles; I needed the distraction to drown the noise.
I drew my bow, lined up the shot, and—
My chest twisted hard. A wave of heat rolled through me. Not mine—Raena’s. I dropped the bow.
My legs buckled slightly, and I gripped the edge of the bench to stay upright. She was restless and hurting, and somehow I felt all of it like a distant echo inside my bones.
I sat down slowly, breathing through the bond as if it might fade if I focused hard enough. I raked my hands through my hair and looked up at the moon. “This is insane,” I whispered. The wind offered no answer, and neither did she. Even so, I knew she could feel me too.
My own skin no longer felt entirely mine, as if we were sharing something neither of us was ready to claim, as if her soul pressed too close to mine.
I didn’t know what she expected when she sent that message. Did she want forgiveness? Did she want understanding? Or was I the one grasping for understanding? Maybe I just wanted the pull to stop.
By midnight, I still hadn’t answered. I paced the floor of my room like a madman while her words echoed in my head.
“I didn’t mean to mark you.”
I believed her. She hadn’t done it to trap me. It was instinct—a surge, a haze. She wasn’t in control. But that didn’t change what it did, and it is still doing to me. Her silence afterward haunted me even more than the mark itself.
I grabbed the raven’s scroll, unrolled it again, and read those six words three more times. My fingers hovered over a blank sheet, and finally I wrote:
“Meet me at the Seer. We need to fix this.”
I tied the message to the raven’s leg and watched it vanish into the sky. That night, I didn’t sleep; I just waited, rigid with dread and hope.
The next morning, I made the trip.
The Seer lived on the edge of the Silver Hollow, where the trees bent from age and the air always smelled of burnt pine and old magic. The cave mouth was etched with ancient carvings, a single lantern burning just inside like an unblinking eye.
I got there first and stood within the threshold, pacing in slow, deliberate lines. The Seer hadn’t come out yet; she never appeared until we were both present—until the truth was ready to be spoken.
I was running a hand over the scarred stone wall when I heard the crunch of leaves outside. Her footsteps. I turned, my pulse spiking like a struck drum.
Raena stepped into the cave entrance, her eyes locking with mine instantly. She looked exhausted, her hair tied up messily, her face pale, and her lips pressed tight. She didn’t speak. Neither did I speak.
The air between us turned heavy, almost solid. Her scent reached me first—earthy and sharp, familiar in a way that made my stomach ache. She took one step inside, and I forced myself to remain perfectly still instead of retreating.
We just looked at each other, and for a long moment the cave held its breath with us.