Page 11 of Interion

I gazed at the mother trees of the grove. They were enormous, reaching a hundred meters in height. The surrounding vegetation was dense, and at this time of year, the orange leaves had begun to fall, forming a rustling carpet beneath our feet.

“Hard to believe, especially with her next to the general. I got the feeling he didn't like me. I could swear the shadows moved around me like they wanted to grab me.”

“Must have been your imagination. Ambrose told me the shadows follow him.”

Breno shrugged.

“And how was the reunion with him?”

I stopped running, realizing I'd picked up the pace without noticing. Maybe my subconscious wanted to escape the conversation.

“To be honest, we still haven't actually met up. Apparently, Zion is dealing with some work stuff.”

I opened my water bottle and took a long sip. Breno was frowning and biting his lip, clearly holding back whatever he wanted to say. For a moment, I wished he'd just stay quiet, but unfortunately, he spoke again:

“Are you telling me he's been here for two days and hasn't come home?” He stared at me in disbelief.

“I don't know what to think either.” I shrugged and pretended not to care. But only the gods knew how much it hurt.

“Kay, he married you, then spent five years away on missions, and when he comes back, he ignores you? That doesn't seem right.”

“He's only my husband on paper—you know that.” I tried to come up with some excuse so it wouldn't seem so bad. Sometimes I repeated this to myself, trying to ease the sting of rejection, but today the words only made me hate myself for making excuses for the general.

“Oh, really? Then why don't you accept invitations from other guys or go to the parties everyone else goes to?”

“Because I'm married, Breno, even if it's only on paper.”

“But that can be worked around. Plenty of people in marriages of convenience have lovers on the side. It's normal, Kay.”

I took a deep breath, feeling small for having to discuss my love life.

“Okay. And who would be crazy enough to challenge Zion? Have you considered that maybe he wouldn't take kindly to his wife sleeping with someone else?”

The problem here wasn't even the marriage. A marriage was easy enough to undo: people go to the courthouse, sign papers, trade insults, and that's it. Within a week, they never have to see each other again. But our situation was more complicated: we shared a bond—an eternal, unbreakable connection tangled with complications.

The bond was rare among the fae. Ancient texts described how the partnership formed when two souls met across so many lives that they fell into eternal harmony. Once the connection took hold, the souls spent every reincarnation seeking their other half, regardless of distance or time.

Most explanations came from legends told by old women around ancestral bonfires, but the bond truly existed; countless people throughout the centuries had found their partners and described feeling that intimate, profound connection. If the accounts weren't enough, science had also proven its existence. Biologically, the DNA of both halves showed similar chains and countless compatible genes. However, for the connection to be fully realized, both partners needed to accept each other in body, soul, and mind. The bond was so strong that if one died, the other would die too from the breaking of the magic. There were accounts of people who survived the separation, but they were consumed by endless grief at being alone in the world; eventually, they passed on to reunite with their other half in another life.

If the connection wasn't completed, the partners didn't share their minds but could send brief mental messages. This ability could be one-sided or mutual, depending on the level of magic and the intensity of the union. Since Zion had no interest in me, the connection lingered in the back of our minds. It was something I didn't dare touch—a reminder that the only person bound to me in this world didn't want me either.

Nothing new under the sun.

“So you're just going to be alone forever, Kay?” Breno was irritated. “Sorry, but this stuff gets to me. God! You're smart, hardworking, and beautiful. I don't know how Zion doesn't see that. I swear I don't understand how he can be such an ass.”

I took a deep breath and grabbed my friend's shoulder, stopping his pacing. A wave of affection flooded my chest after hearing his words. Even though they couldn't banish the frustration and defeat, at least they calmed me down.

“He may be a jerk, but he's the man who saved my life.” I swallowed hard, feeling a whirlwind of emotions tearing through my chest. Talking about the general was confusing, and I found myself lost in a tangle of feelings. Gratitude for being saved, sadness and anger at what he did in the forests, and overwhelming anguish at his indifference—all tangled up with the knowledge of the compatibility bond that made everything complicated. “I owe him, and the least I can do is not let his indifference bother me.”

My friend's expression softened. Sometimes he was a pain in the neck for poking at old wounds, but he was also my lifeboat on most days.

“I'm sorry…” He placed his hand over mine. “I won't bring it up again.”

Uncomfortable with the closeness, I gestured for us to keep walking. He followed me in silence.

When I first arrived in Interion, I'd hidden away, withdrawn like a snail into its shell. I gave up on living, on trying, on being anything more than a waste of time. But Breno and Ambrose were always there to reach out, tossing me life vests, guiding me like a lighthouse and offering me safe harbor. I could have disappeared beneath some shell, among thousands of others abandoned by the sea. But I knew those two would turn the entire ocean inside out to find me. And they did exactly that. I came out of my shell three years ago, and since then, I've been fighting tooth and nail not to crawl back in. I would keep standing—for them and for myself.

We resumed our run through the Silent Woods, following a well-worn trail that wound through the leafy trees and led to a cliff. Everything there was perfectly still, and a stream from Canoe Lake ran parallel to the trail before plunging down an 800-meter drop. The woods got their name from that waterfall: it was so high that when the water hit the bottom of the cliff, you could barely hear anything from up above. It was as if it didn't exist.