“Yes?”
“This says permanent.”
“Some treaties are.”
“No, this one. This specific one. It says the bond is permanent.”
I look at the text she is pointing to. She is right. The Chronicle is not describing a standard renewal. This is a true binding. Permanent. Unbreaking.
“We should discuss this after Keith’s presentation,” I say quietly.
“Discuss what? That we might be permanently connected? That’s not a discussion, that’s a?—”
Rianne closes the Chronicle carefully, her hands shaking slightly.
She stands abruptly, the chair rolling backward and hitting the wall. “I need... I need air. I need...”
“We cannot leave.”
“I know that!” Her voice cracks. She paces the small conference room, three steps one way, three steps back. Her hands move constantly... pushing hair behind her ears, adjusting her glasses, pulling at her sleeves. “This isn’t a renewal. This isn’t temporary. This is a marriage. A magical, permanent, forced marriage to someone I don’t even know.”
“It is not...”
“Don’t.” She holds up one hand, still pacing. “Don’t tell me it’s not the same thing. A permanent bond? An eternal connection? That’s not... I just got out of a relationship that was supposed to be forever. I’m not ready for actual forever with a stranger.”
“I understand your concern...”
“Do you?” She stops pacing and looks at me directly. “Do you understand what it’s like to give someone your trust, your future, your everything, and have them...” Her voice breaks. She sits down hard on the edge of the table. “I can’t do this again. I can’t.”
The silence stretches. Keith’s presentation continues in the background, but the words are meaningless.
“You’re right,” I say finally. “I do not understand. My people form bonds rarely. When we do, they last centuries. We are careful. Deliberate. We do not bond by accident.” I pause. “But this has happened. The Chronicle does not offer undo.”
“Your ear’s twitching.”
It is. Because there is something I am not saying. Something the Chronicle revealed when she first opened it. “The permanentbond requires consent. True consent. Not just physical presence, but willing participation.”
“Then we refuse! We just don’t do it.”
“And the barrier fails. The worlds merge. The consequences are... the records call them unprecedented.”
“So we’re trapped either way. Together forever or apocalypse.”
“That is... accurate.”
She laughs, but it sounds broken. “Of course it is.”
“What do we do now?” she asks finally, her voice small.
“We have two more attempts. Tonight. And the solstice.”
“And if I can’t...” She trails off. “The ritual failed because I couldn’t trust you. Because I saw you as a threat.”
“Yes.”
“So between now and tonight, I’m supposed to just... what? Get to know you? Trust you? Just like that?”
“I do not know. This is not covered in the protocols.” I consider the truth of it. “The ritual requires synchronization. Connection. Perhaps we need to find common ground before we can find magical resonance.”
