The Cursed Bond: Bound By Ruin

Seraphina didn't sleep.

Not because of the kiss.

Not because of Elion's warning.

But because of the dream that followed.

---

She was drowning.

The air around her thickened, turned to fog, then water. Her lungs burned as she sank through a garden of pale white hands, each one reaching toward her like flowers hungry for her name.

Then came the voice.

"You wear her ring."

It wasn't Elion's.

It was a woman's. Familiar. Ancient.

"She thought she could save him, too."

Seraphina tried to scream. Couldn't.

The hands dragged her deeper.

And then she woke—gasping, throat dry, bedsheets tangled like ivy around her legs.

The ring was burning hot.

She stumbled to the washbasin, splashing her face. Moonlight poured through the window like milk.

It wasn't just a nightmare. It was a warning.

And the name came to her like breath.

Lysandra Vale.

The woman before her. The last one bound to Elion.

The one who didn't survive.

---

By sunrise, Seraphina had made two decisions:

First she wasn't going to run… but she wasn't going to be passive, either.

She would dig. She would learn. And if this curse wanted to haunt her, it would have to work harder than a whisper in the dark.

---

The court was buzzing before breakfast.

Rumors always moved fast in Lunaris, but this was something else entirely.

The binding had shifted.

Not just for her and Elion, for everyone.

Servants whispered about spells misfiring. Gardens blooming out of season. A lesser prince waking up blind in one eye and suddenly fluent in infernal.

The magical grid, the ancient flow of energy beneath the kingdom was unraveling.

And Seraphina had a growing suspicion it was her fault.

---

She found Elion in the training hall, shirtless again, because of course he was. His sword moved like a part of him…sharp, efficient, merciless.

She watched him for a full minute before speaking.

"Is it normal," she said slowly, "for soul bonds to cause chaos magic?"

He paused mid-swing. His chest rose and fell.

"You dreamt of her, didn't you?"

Seraphina didn't answer.

"You're not the first."

He set the sword down with a soft metallic click.

"She was my cousin," he said, without looking at her. "She wanted to end the curse. Thought love would break it. Her bond... didn't last. The ring was buried with her."

Seraphina touched the band on her finger. It pulsed once. Softly. Like a heart in mourning.

"But now it's on me," she said.

"It shouldn't be."

"Well, it is. And something's happening, Elion. Something bigger than fate or family curses."

He turned to her then. Fully.

"She was innocent," he said. "You're not."

"And you think that makes me safer?"

"No. I think it makes you dangerous."

---

Later that night, she found herself wandering again, no destination, just the restless itch that came from being bonded to a man who kissed like prophecy and vanished like mist.

She passed a mirror. Stopped.

Her reflection blinked.

But she didn't.

She froze.

Stared.

Then leaned closer.

The mirror's version of her... smiled. But not like her. The smile was sharp. Mocking. Familiar in a way that made her stomach twist.

Then the reflection whispered, voice distorted but unmistakable:

"You think you're the one with the fire? Let me show you who burns."

And the mirror shattered.

Blood pricked across Seraphina's cheek. Small cuts, nothing deep. But the bond roared awake in response, pulsing hard and fast. Her skin flared. Her head spun.

And from the hallway…Elion came.

He didn't ask what happened.

He just grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into him, hands cradling her face like she might vanish.

"You're bleeding," he growled.

"You're overreacting."

"You were attacked."

"By a mirror."

"I felt it."

The bond.

That damn, cursed, intimate thing.

She leaned into him, against every inch of caution.

"You want to know the worst part?" she whispered.

"What?"

"I'm not even scared."

Elion's hand slid down her neck, not quite touching her skin. The bond flared again, hot and bright and hungry.

And for a moment…just one brief, sacred moment…it felt like they were one breath away from giving in.

Then Elion spoke.

"Next time," he said softly, "don't face it alone."

Seraphina's heart was already answering when her mouth replied:

"Next time, don't vanish like the character of a tragic poem."

---

Outside, the magical grid cracked again. A light flickered in the sky. And far below the palace, something ancient stirred awake for the first time in centuries.

Watching.

Waiting.

Bound to ruin.