Page 37

I run blindly, mind reeling with fear and guilt.

If Saru rejects me for dabbling in chaos-laced knowledge, I wouldn’t blame him.

The entire fortress might demand answers.

Thakur will pounce on this. My footsteps echo in the gloom, tears stinging.

I pass confused inmates who barely register me before I vanish around the next bend.

I need somewhere quiet, somewhere I can hide.

The Bastion’s forge—abandoned at this hour—should be empty.

Panting, I arrive at the old forge chamber cut into the fortress’s lower levels.

It smells of ash and stale heat, long unused since the main smithy took over.

I slip inside, bolting the door behind me.

The darkness swallows me, broken only by a single dormant brazier in the corner.

My chest heaves as I slump to the floor, burying my face in my hands.

He’s alive. That’s all that matters, I tell myself.

But the swirl of terror won’t fade. I revealed my ability to neutralize chaos toxins, something no ordinary human can do.

Even if Saru forgives me, the Senate might see me as a tool or threat.

Thakur could twist this to claim I’m a monstrous abomination.

My brand might not shield me from that fallout.

I recall how Saru looked as he convulsed, terror etched in every line.

I recall how the convulsions ceased when I harnessed that Nullborn trait.

The memory leaves me shaky. I never wanted to use it, to confirm the rumors that I carry the legacy of forcibly bred human lines meant to quell chaos.

It’s a cursed heritage, a brand deeper than anything on my skin.

Swallowing my sob, I stare at the silent forge, old coals heaped in a bin.

My entire life I dreaded becoming a tool for dark elves if they discovered me.

Now I risk becoming a pawn for minotaurs if the Bastion sees value in my power.

And Saru… he might recoil at the notion that I can snuff out chaos with a mere thought.

Our bond from last night could shatter under the weight of this secret.

The hours drag as I remain crouched against the cold anvil, arms wrapped around my knees.

I consider fleeing the Bastion altogether, but where would I run?

The brand ties me here, and the outside world might be even more perilous.

If the Senate hunts me, I’m doomed alone.

My entire existence feels caged by two brands: the forced crest on my flesh and the Nullborn blood in my veins.

Eventually, the door scrapes open, flooding the forge with torchlight.

My heart leaps into my throat. Have they come to arrest me?

I stiffen, half-rising, fists clenched. Then I see Saru step in, leaning on the doorframe, breathing ragged.

A faint bandage wraps his torso, and sweat beads along his temple.

He looks weak but alive, eyes burning with frantic concern.

He shuts the door behind him, gaze darting around until he spots me in the corner by the anvil. I catch my breath, tears threatening again. He crosses the chamber in halting steps. “Naeva,” he says, voice hoarse. “You saved me.”

I shudder, turning my face away. “Don’t come closer. I can’t—” My words fail.

He presses on, ignoring my plea, kneeling beside me. The closeness radiates heat. His horns tilt, each breath labored from the aftershocks of poison. “You fled,” he murmurs. “Why?”

I shake my head, tears slipping free. “Because I used something unnatural. People saw me. You saw me. Now you know I’m… different. I didn’t want you to despise me.”

He frowns, reaching a hand toward my shoulder, then stopping short, uncertain. “You speak nonsense. You saved my life.”

My voice trembles with raw fear. “They’ll call me a monster. A Nullborn freak. The Senate will exploit it. You might too.”

He stiffens, realization dawning. “That was chaos poison, wasn’t it? And you— you neutralized it.”

I hug myself, nodding brokenly. “I must be Nullborn. It’s why the dark elf spells fizzled before. Why your poison eased. My entire life, I hid it. I want no part of their breeding horrors.”

He exhales, expression torn between shock and fierce resolve. “I see. So this is the secret that haunts you.”

Tears blur my vision. “Yes. I thought you’d reject me now.” My voice cracks. “We just… last night… everything. I can’t stand the thought you might see me as some tool or threat.”

His breath shudders. “Naeva…” He reaches out gently, grasping my wrist. My brand stings under his hold, as if reminding me of the vow that ties us. He draws me close, ignoring the protest in his own battered body. “I don’t care if you’re Nullborn or not. You saved me. That’s all that matters.”

I tremble, disbelieving. “Even if Thakur uses it against me—calls me an abomination?”

His jaw clenches. “Then I’ll stand against him. The brand protects you. And if that fails, I will not let them take you.” His voice is quiet but unyielding. “Nullborn or otherwise, you’re mine under this crest. We define its meaning, not them.”

Relief floods me, but I’m still fragile with shame and fear. “They saw me, Saru. Your guards. They might talk.”

He nods grimly. “They might. But I’ll handle it. My sister is a senator. She can help quell any gossip or reframe it as a specialized skill you learned in the forges. We’ll navigate carefully.”

My eyes sting with tears. Part of me wants to trust him, to collapse into the warmth of his acceptance. Another part warns me that not even his influence might shield me from a determined Senate. But the sincerity in his gaze breaks through my doubt.

Tentatively, I let him pull me into a gentle embrace.

He’s exhausted, leaning on me for support, yet determined to comfort.

I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of charred metal and dried blood.

He’s alive, thanks to me. That realization alone shakes me to my core.

I cling to him, letting sobs tear free, all the tension of the day.

He strokes my hair, horns tilting to rest near my temple.

Minutes pass in that silent communion, the old forge echoing with the hush of our breaths. At length, he tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Come back with me,” he says. “No more hiding. The Bastion’s healers want to see you, too. They worry for your state after channeling such energy.”

I blink away tears, breath unsteady. “I can’t face them. They’ll ask questions.”

He cups my cheek, voice firm. “I’ll answer for you. Let them see me at your side. If Thakur or anyone tries to spin it, we’ll spin it better.” A pause, then a soft confession. “I thought I was dying, Naeva. The last thing I felt was your touch, and it… it gave me hope. Don’t run from me now.”

My throat constricts. “All right,” I whisper. “But if it becomes too dangerous?—”

He cuts me off, shaking his head. “We face it together.”

Something in his words unravels my last shred of resistance.

I let him help me stand, ignoring the swirl of dizziness from the emotional storm.

My body screams with fatigue—saving him drained me in ways I barely grasp.

He’s no better, swaying slightly until I wrap an arm around his waist to steady him.

The brand on my forearm brushes his side, a quiet reminder of everything that’s changed between us.

Slowly, we exit the forge, leaning on each other.

The corridor is dim, though a handful of guards linger, startled to see us emerge.

They blink at me with confusion, noting the tear stains on my face and Saru’s unsteady posture.

One rushes forward, offering support. Saru waves him off.

“We’re fine,” he mutters. “The poison is handled. No word of this leaves your lips, understood?”

The guard salutes, though curiosity blazes in his eyes.

We press on, heading toward the Bastion’s medical wing.

My heart still pounds, uncertain how rumors will spin.

But Saru stands with me, his large arm looped around my shoulders, ignoring any stares.

That unwavering presence soothes a fraction of my dread.

We reach the infirmary’s heavy doors. Inside, a cluster of minotaur healers bustle around cots. The moment they see Saru, they hurry forward, exclaiming that they heard he was poisoned. He waves them back with a curt gesture. “Minimal fuss. She needs care, too.”

I flush as they direct us to a quieter corner, examining him first. He slumps onto a cot, letting out a groan when a healer prods his chest. Another minotaur gestures for me to sit.

I obey numbly, listening as Saru demands no excessive gossip.

The healers nod, albeit uncertain. They drip a bitter solution down his throat to purge residual toxins.

One older minotaur kneels beside me, checking my pulse. “You’re trembling,” he observes. “Shock, perhaps. Let me see your brand.”

My heart leaps, fear swirling. But he only inspects it for inflammation, tuts about mild infection, then applies fresh salve.

He has no idea I performed an arcane feat.

My breath eases. Meanwhile, Saru’s caretaker mutters about how the poison would’ve killed him if it spread further.

Saru merely grunts, occasionally flicking his gaze my way.

When the healers finish, they leave us with stern orders to rest. Saru’s eyes flick to me as we stand unsteadily. “To your quarters?” he suggests quietly, ignoring his own weakness.

I open my mouth, half wanting to protest. But the rawness in his expression decides it for me. “All right.”

We return to the corridor. Another guard tries to follow, but Saru dismisses them with a single glare, wanting privacy. We move slowly, arms around each other for support. Tension lingers in the air, but it’s overshadowed by relief. If we can survive Thakur’s poison, maybe we can weather the rest.

When we reach my room, he helps me inside. I hesitate, scanning the sparse space. My heart hammers with the memory of last night, but the immediate concern is that he nearly died from a senator’s treachery. He leans against the wall, horns angled down, chest heaving.

I guide him to my bed, letting him sit. He exhales, wincing, bandaged around his middle. “You’re the one who should rest,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded.

I kneel at his side, resting a hand on his knee. “You almost died. Let me—” My voice cracks. “Let me be sure you’re okay.”

He musters a tired smile. “Thanks to you.” He places his broad hand over mine, warmth radiating.

My chest tightens, tears threatening anew. “I was terrified. When I saw you like that… I couldn’t bear it.”

He lifts my chin with gentle fingers, horns shifting as he studies me. “No more hiding from me,” he says. “We’ll face your Nullborn trait together.”

My tears slip free, but this time they’re tears of relief.

He tugs me closer, guiding me onto the bed next to him.

We remain fully clothed, but the intimacy of leaning against his broad frame so soon after that harrowing event sends pulses of emotion through me.

I press my cheek to his shoulder, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

The brand on my forearm stings a little, as though echoing that beat.

We sit in silence for a long stretch, letting the crisis recede.

His breath steadies, color returning to his cheeks.

My own racing pulse quiets. Outside, the Bastion’s hum continues, ignorant of how close we came to losing everything.

Thakur’s poison lingers as a fresh threat, but for now, we’ve escaped.

At last, I speak softly. “You’ll rest here? The healers said you need calm.”

He nods, head bowed. “Yes. But only if you let me keep watch over you, too.”

A fragile smile ghosts my lips. “Deal.”

We shift, lying atop the covers. I settle against him, mindful of bruises, letting the quiet hush cradle our shared exhaustion.

His arm drapes around my waist, horns close to my hair.

Each breath I take lines up with his, as if forging a new rhythm.

For a moment, I recall the nights I spent alone, forging sabotage plans or trembling under a dark elf’s lash.

Now, I share a bed with the minotaur who once branded me to keep me alive.

We chose each other last night, and I saved him this morning.

The Bastion might reel from these revelations, but in my small room, our bond feels unbreakable.

As sleep pulls at us, I sense the swirl of complications that tomorrow will bring: Senate inquiries, Thakur’s next scheme, potential rumors about my Nullborn power.

But I cling to the memory of how Saru looked at me after I purged the poison from his blood—a look of gratitude, awe, and unwavering acceptance.

With that anchoring me, I let my eyes drift shut, exhaustion claiming my body at last.

He touches my brand gently, and I murmur a soft sound, half asleep. His voice is a faint rumble. “Thank you, Naeva.”

I snuggle closer, tears slipping unbidden. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper.

“Never,” he replies, his breath warm against my brow.

A final wave of drowsiness closes in, carrying me into slumber.

In the stillness of the Bastion’s night, we hold fast to one another, shaping a vow born not from duty—but choice.

And though fear lingers, my heart finds solace in knowing we stand together, even if the entire fortress stands against us.