The sun dipped low behind Forest Vale's outer walls, casting shadows across the clearing. Lanterns flickered to life, infused with mana to stay glowing well into the night. Banners bearing the crest of the Starfire Guild fluttered next to Forest Vale's insignia, two opposing flames locked in balance.
But Bren wasn't admiring the decor.
He stood just beyond the main square, back leaned against a cold stone column, arms folded. Eyes sharp. Focused.
On Lily.
She glided through the mingling guests with practised grace, a perpetual smile painting her lips. Too perfect. Too poised. Her steps never faltered, her presence never dimmed. Yet, Bren watched her like a hawk, each movement noted and dissected.
Because something was off.
It wasn't just the glimmer of unnatural charm in her eyes or how people seemed to sway a little too easily in her direction. It was how she moved through the crowd like she didn't belong, but wanted to pretend she did. Like a predator learning to walk in sheep's wool.
"She's not one of them." Bren thought.
A tug in his chest agreed. Not painful. But persistent.
"She's not even trying to hide it anymore," Nythor murmured. "A disguise only works when worn with restraint. That one flaunts the seams."
Bren frowned, eyes narrowing. "You feel it too, then."
"She reeks of deception and brimstone. Her scent is masked well—too well. But not from me," Nythor replied, voice curling like smoke in his mind. "Her aura is laced with something older. Something wrong."
"Why would she come here?" Bren whispered aloud.
"To observe, to manipulate... perhaps to take something... or someone. Keep your mind sharp, vessel. She is not the only wolf in this forest."
Bren didn't respond. His eyes tracked her as she stopped near a cluster of Forest Vale members. Myla was among them, laughing softly at something Kovan said. Leia rolled her eyes dramatically, elbowing Kovan in the ribs.
Then Lily joined the group.
Myla's posture stiffened just slightly.
There, Bren noted, the tension rising in his shoulders.
He didn't move. He didn't need to.
He watched.
But his stillness didn't go unnoticed, and his eyes too focused on Lily.
"Bren."
He turned.
Myla stood a few paces away, arms crossed tightly. Her expression wasn't angry, not quite, but guarded... tired.
"You've been patrolling the same three meters for half an hour," she said flatly. "Staring like you're waiting for someone to make a mistake."
"I am," he said, face serious and straight.
She blinked, then scoffed. "What's going on with you?"
Bren's eyes drifted back toward the mingling crowd. "That girl, Lily? She's not what she seems."
"Because she's friendly?" Myla snapped trying to get into Bren's view. "Because she talks to people without glaring at them?"
Bren flinched. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" she shot back. "You've been cold since the Limbo incident. Cold and distant, and now you're stalking people like a creep."
"I'm trying to protect you," he muttered.
Myla's expression cracked, something between hurt and frustration bleeding through.
"From what, Bren? From allies? From people being normal?"
"She's not normal." Bren snapped as he pointed towards Lily with the others.
"Neither are you!" she hissed.
They stood in silence, their gaze still on each other. Around them, laughter and music continued like nothing was wrong.
Bren's eyes flicked back to the group, Lily now deep in conversation with Kovan, Myla watching from the corner of her eye. A male Starfire hunter leaned in too close to Myla. Bren's jaw clenched and his hand twitched.
"I saw that," Myla muttered.
"Saw what?"
"The way you looked at him just now and your hand movement. You're jealous."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie. You don't even notice when I'm near unless you think I'm in danger now."
She turned and walked away towards the edge of the silence clearing.
For a heartbeat, Bren didn't follow. His gaze lingered on Lily a moment longer.
Then his feet moved before he could think. He followed Myla.
The Silent Clearing was as named, calm and distant. Lanterns didn't reach this far. Only pale moonlight filtered through tree branches. The chatter of the ceremony faded behind them, distant and blurred.
Myla stood near a flat stone, arms still crossed, but now looser. Softer. She didn't look back when he approached.
"I'm sorry," Bren said quietly.
She turned slightly.
"I don't mean to be like this. It's just… hard. Something inside me's changed. Ever since Limbo and then the assessment, I can't turn it off. The awareness and the pressure. It's like I'm tuned to something dark, and it's always there in the background."
She sighed. "You think I don't feel it too?"
He blinked.
"Everything's changed for all of us. We were dropped into Limbo by a bad portal. We faced demons head-on. You think I came out of that the same? We could have died."
Bren looked down.
"I miss the version of you who looked at me like I was something godly, stuttering when talking to me," she added. "Not like I'm something you have to overly protect."
"I don't think or feel like I'm overprotecting you," he said. "I never thought that."
She was closer now. Arms lowered. Her hand brushed his lightly.
A shimmer.
Both paused.
Around Myla's wrist, a faint golden lace glowed. Magical. Ethereal.
Around Bren's, a matching violet thread spiralled into view, twisting toward her.
When the threads met, they didn't repel.
They merged.
Gold and violet fused into a soft gleam, laced together like woven flame and shadow.
"Myla…"
She stared down at it, and she gasped.
"What is this?"
"I don't know," he whispered. "But it's real."
"Interesting," Nythor said, voice quieter than usual. "Even I have not seen this bond in centuries. You are tethered, soul to soul. This is more than magic... it's fate."
"Is it dangerous?" Bren asked aloud.
"No," Myla said, not hearing Nythor. "It feels… safe." She smiled.
She looked up at him, and for the first time since the incident, her eyes held no suspicion... only light.
"We're not alone in this, Bren," she said.
He nodded slowly. "I'll try to be better."
"You don't have to be perfect, just present."
Behind them, a horn blew faintly, signalling the end of the ceremony.
Their hands drifted apart.
The golden-violet thread dimmed.
But didn't vanish.
It lingered faintly, like a promise. They were always connected.
And somewhere in the forest within the shadows of the trees, Lily's smile twitched.
[SYSTEM UPDATE:]
Soul-Link Detected.
Participants: Bren Fernsby, Myla Vale
Affinity: 94% Match
Thread Type: Unbreakable (Dual-Magic Bond)
Effect: Romantic & Protective Soul-Link Activated
Status: Dormant Potential Awakened
Further Interaction Required…
They didn't know what it meant yet. But the world did. And it had already begun to change.
Back in the main square, Silas watched from a balcony, arms crossed.
"She's testing the boundaries already," he muttered.
Sargent Moon stepped forward. "You mean Lily?"
"She's not fully human, she's Demonbound."
"Should we intervene?"
"Not yet," Silas replied, eyes narrowing. "Let the pieces move. Let the boy feel conflict, only through pressure does true power rise."
His gaze dropped to the golden-violet thread faintly trailing behind Bren's wrist.
"And his is rising...
...fast."
Within Bren's mind, the world dimmed. And in the silence that followed the link, something cracked.
Not a voice this time.
A memory.
Not his.
...Nythor's.
Flashback – Limbo, Centuries Ago...
Ash rained from a ruptured sky.
The world around them was gray, fractured between burning clouds and frozen ground, as if time had paused between Heaven and Hell. Limbo. A realm of exile, neither divine nor damned.
Nythor stood tall, regal even in agony. His once-pristine wings, feathered and radiant, were now blackened and torn... still beautiful, but warped by the realm's corruption. His armor had dulled, his body scorched by divine judgment.
But around his wrist?
A golden-violet thread, pulsing with soul-magic.
It spiraled toward the golden-violet one on her arm.
Elira.
She stood before him, wind tearing at her white cloak, her long brown hair blowing in the breeze. Her halo cracked faintly above her brow, light dimming under pressure. Still, she did not step back.
"You shouldn't have called me here," she said, voice trembling. "They're watching."
"They always were," Nythor replied, voice deep and heavy. "But they never saw us."
The threads between them twisted in the air like flame and shadow, bright, sacred, powerful.
A soul-thread, forged not by fate… but by choice.
He stepped closer.
"You knew what this meant when you bound yourself to me."
Her hand hovered near his. "They said your fall was complete. That your heart was corrupted."
"And what do you say?"
Her golden eyes shimmered. "I say… I still feel the thread."
They touched.
A pulse echoed through Limbo. The soul-threads flared, spiraling into a radiant braid or violet and gold. Energy swirled around them, ancient and forbidden. His fallen grace met her fading divinity and wove together.
In that moment, they were one.
"Even if they tear us apart… I won't regret loving you." She whispered.
But...
...it didn't last.
From the sky, a lance of light descended.
A divine strike.
Elira's eyes widened. "They found us!"
CRACK.
The golden thread snapped.
Time slowed.
Nythor reached for her but she was already fading, torn away by a holy force. Light and shadow split apart violently, scattering like embers in a storm.
"No!!" His voice shattered the sky.
The bond, the one tether that anchored him to hope was severed.
The violet thread recoiled, lashing his wrist like a curse. His wings flared wide, twisted fully black. His eyes bled their last starlight… and ignited into void.
And in that ruin, alone in Limbo, Nythor screamed...
Not in rage.
But in loss.
Loss of everything.
Present – Forest Vale...
Bren gasped.
He gripped his chest, heart hammering. The golden-violet thread between him and Myla pulsed faintly at his wrist, warm but fragile.
"...That happened to you," he whispered aloud. "She was your soul-link."
Nythor's voice returned, quiet but unwavering.
"Guard this one. Do not repeat my fate. I was torn from my bond and cast into shadow. But you… you still have time."
A pause.
Then softer than ever:
"Do not fail her, Bren. Not like I failed Elira."