Her skin is cold against mine. She doesn't flinch away, but she doesn't relax either. Just tolerates the contact like she's tolerating everything else about this.
"The bond between mates is sacred," Zurkar says, his voice carrying through the cavern. "It is protection and partnership. A warrior defends his mate with tooth and claw. A mate strengthens her warrior with trust and devotion. Together, they serve the clan and honor the gods."
Empty words. Beautiful lies about bonds built on mutual choice rather than desperate necessity.
The shaman continues speaking, outlining the traditional expectations. I'm supposed to provide for her, protect her, give her strong children. She's supposed to support me,manage our household, bear my offspring. Standard orc mating arrangements that reduce both of us to functional roles.
Zurkar calls out to the War God, his voice rising in ritual question. "Great God of Battle, do you bless this union? Do you grant your favor to this mating?"
Silence follows. As always. The gods don't actually answer.
Except my magic does.
It rises unbidden—that familiar current of power that I've spent my whole life hiding. It surges through my chest, down my arm, into the point where Serah's wrist presses against mine.
And I make a choice.
Not the careful, measured decision I've rehearsed in my head. Not the controlled demonstration I planned. Just raw, desperate action born from three days of watching her hurt.
If she must be trapped here because of me, then I'll give her everything. My strength. My protection. My life itself if necessary.
I pull on the magic, yanking it from deep in my core where it's always lived. The power responds eagerly—too eagerly—flooding through me in a torrent. I push it outward, toward Serah, weaving threads of energy between us that no one else can see.
The binding formula comes from instinct rather than training. Words in a language older than the clan, older than the gods themselves. They whisper through my mind as I work, guiding the magic into intricate patterns.
Pain is mine. Suffering is mine. Yours is joy, yours is peace, yours is safety absolute.
The magic sinks hooks into my spirit and pulls. I gasp as power tears free from places I didn't know existed. It flows into Serah—invisible to everyone watching but devastating to me.
I'm giving her everything. My strength to sustain her. My vitality to heal her. My very life force bound permanently to hers so that nothing can harm her without going through me first.
The ancient symbols begin burning across my skin. They spiral up my arm from where we're bound together, tracing lines of fire across my chest, my shoulders, my back. Runes that haven't been used in a thousand years, marking me as bound.
Serah stiffens slightly. The same symbols must be appearing on her skin—I can feel the magic settling into her bones, her blood, her very essence.
But she doesn't react beyond that initial tension. Doesn't feel the agony currently shredding through me as the binding completes.
Because that's part of the spell. She takes nothing from me that she doesn't choose. All the pain, all the sacrifice—it's mine alone to bear.
The transfer hits like being flayed alive from the inside. Every nerve ending ignites. My magic rips free in chunks, embedding itself in Serah so deeply that we'll never be truly separate again. I can feel her presence in my chest now—a second heartbeat layering over my own.
I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from crying out. Blood fills my mouth. Around us, the ceremony continues. No one notices anything wrong because I'm holding perfectly still, maintaining the appearance of calm while my entire world restructures itself.
Zurkar's voice stutters. His eyes snap to mine, then to where our wrists are bound. To the faint shimmer of power that only someone with magical sight could detect.
His face goes absolutely white. "Rakk, what did you?—"
I shake my head minutely. Not here. Not now. Let me finish this first.
The shaman's jaw clenches. But he continues the ritual, his voice slightly strained as he works through the remaining blessings.
The symbols finish burning into my skin. They fade from visibility but I can still feel them—permanent marks etched into my flesh that declare me bound. Soul-bound in a way that goes far beyond traditional mating.
Serah will never know. She'll think the ceremony was normal. That our binding is the same as any other couple's.
She won't feel the invisible tether now connecting us. Won't sense how every breath she takes echoes through my chest. Won't understand that I've given her the power to destroy me completely just by existing.
It's exactly what she deserves. Protection without chains. Safety without ownership. Everything I should have offered from the beginning instead of making declarations that stole her choices.
