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My eyes dart to the formerly dark wall behind her head, now lit with the morning light as excitement and nervousness fill the bond. Letting me know the loves of my life are waking up. A stupid half sob, half laugh escapes from my throat as Carlton steps in behind her. “I started eggs, how do you-?”
“I can save us.” I blurt out, the book gripped tightly in my hands open to the page that will change everything. The page that could buy us more time at the least. Carlton goes to speak, his icy eyes wide with shock, but I cut him off. “If we can come up with a plan... a way to collapse the cave and seal it from the outside this-” I stand on unsteady legs, tingling and numb from how long they’ve been curled underneath me. “We can siphon off my power using The Fates blade, we can live. It’s what happened to the other one. It wasn’t lost or destroyed in a battle. They used it to keep them alive.” Mara’s hand goes to her mouth, tears beading in her dark eyes as Carlton steps around her, taking the book from me as if it’s a venomous snake. As if the hope in my eyes will defeat him completely. I know as I hand it over that this is the wrong choice, that Emma left this book as a warning. A warning to not act against the gods, but I can’t stop my heart from clenching in my chest.
I can’t not try.
“My gods...” He murmurs before stepping back towards the doorway. A moment of panic swells in my chest and seconds later I can hear my phone ringing in my bedroom down the hall. His eyes meet mine as more rings fill the suffocating halls. The tension is so high it nearly takes on a life of its own. What if they won’t try? Will it even work without all three Harbingers? So many fucking questions and most of all.... Today is my wedding day. All our focus should be there.
Why show me this? Why today?
Milo
Father and Deniki huddle in the room’s corner pouring over every line in both the best and most gut-wrenching book I’ve ever skimmed through. I crack my neck, watching as Tate fussesover the blue flower pinned to the outside of his dark gray suit. I smile, gods fucking help me. I can’t tell if this is the best day of my life or not. We’re marrying her.
Our gift.
It’s everything we’ve wanted. To be joined with her in every way possible. A physical display of our love. Of our soul’s claim to Kita. I beat down the nervousness that threatens to bring clouds to the crystal-clear skies as I clear my throat. This hope... this chance it’s a dangerous thing. It’s a potentially painful and beautiful thing. Tate catches my eye, shooting me a nervous smile in the lopsided way he always has. Ever since we were kids, there’s always been something knowing and mysterious about his smile. Like an inside joke, not even I was let in on.
Could I bury him?
The thought forces bile to my throat as he reaches through the bond. I know he’s wondering the same thing. It doesn’t matter ifthinkwe’re capable of it, we’ll do it. It’s all for her. For a moment longer wrapped around her soft skin, a moment more of looking into those big blue eyes. A chance to give her the life she deserves. We’ll do it. No matter the cost. No matter how high the price is for acting against their will, for upsetting the balance. Doing everything we’ve fought against, been trained against all our lives. A light knock fills the quiet room as Sleepy walks in dressed in his tux, adjusting his bow tie, “Everything is ready.” I wring my hands nervously, wondering if we have time to sneak back out and check on our little gift again. It’s been three hours since we watched her at the house. Both of us glued to the large windows in the bathroom like slimy peeping Tom’s as she showered. Utterly and annoyingly oblivious that she was being watched at all. Or at least we thought until she stepped back, a smile on her full lips as she took her time washing her soft pale skin with her hands. Forgoing the rag, she knew we were there, and her little show did not disappoint. There are very few things I know for certain in regards our God’s. They love their games, they’re cruel and no matter the length of time we’ve had, they’ve given us the greatest gift in Kita. I push it through the bond, welcoming the overwhelming sense of warmth that fills my chest.
My family.
Tate
In the Middle of the Night by Elley Duhé
My breath comes in and out quicker than I’d like for it to, my lungs refusing to expand fully. All that we’ve been through, countless lives taken and lost by our hands. And this is what makes me nervous. My heart stops in my chest, Milo shifts on his feet, pushing harder against me for support as Sleepy and Mara hook arms. Leading one another down the short winding path through the event yard, the formerly bright and vibrant leaves all turned to shades of amber, crimson and brown. Mara casts us an enormous smile showing off the gap between her teeth, her long dark braided hair bound tightly in a bun high on her head adorned with small white flowers. Sleepy snakes his arm around her waist. Judging by the widening of her eyes and the sheepish why she looks down for the rest of the trip up the isle he definitely grabbed her ass. Giving us a wink before they spit to go to our sides.
Our followers, our people, the lifeblood of The Order rise slowly, their cloaks and varying masks all donned showing the importance of this moment. Kita’s mother clasps her hands tightly in front her, her eyes wet with tears. Finally ceasing the nervous judgmental peeks at the masked strangers. Her father stoic and unwavering. My eyes fall to the blue and white flowers that adorn the ends of the aged wooden pews, taking in the fabric expertly draped over our heads as twilight sets in. The white canopy adorned with hanging crystals, wisteria and tea lights. All of it fading away the moment our eyes land onher.My heart clenches, furiously blinking away my own tears that threaten to blur my view of her. Her midnight black hair falls in loose curls around head, the top layer of her hair pulled back threaded through a wreath of wisteria. A flower sacred to The Order and favored by our goddesses. “Fucking hell, she’s beautiful.” Milo breathes out, his voice thick with emotion as his pride swells and merges with mine. The tingling in our brands expand outwards the closer she comes, the flush in her cheeks almost matching the one in Deniki’s as he leads her closer to us.
Her family. Her soulmates.
It takes everything in me not to go to her, to let them continue their languid waltz up the aisle. Through the pews of her followers all staring attentively at her, the long lace adorned train of her white dress that fades into deeper hues of blue before giving way to coal at the ends. My smile grows at the familiar pallet from the paintings we did. The ones that hang above her bed in our home. Our energy swirls and whips, our souls reaching out for hers. For our other half and then something else...
Someone else.
I force down the lump in my throat that always follows the thought of Everett. Our brother. It’s the surest I’ve ever felt him. As she reaches us, her smile widens, a tear slipping down her cheek. I would reach out to wipe it away had Milo not beat me there. He gives her a wink before bringing it to his lips, tasting the drop of salty liquid. “We missed you.” We say in unison as Deniki reaches into his suit pocket, pulling out a bundle of red rope. She beams, “I missed you more.”
“It is my honor to act on behalf of the Fates, memorializing the soul bond of our Harbingers with their gift. A sacred act, a bind as tight and unwavering as the one on their souls.” Deniki’s normally soft voice booms loud enough to be heard by everyone in the courtyard. He steps behind us as I tug her in closer, raising our forearms and pressing them together tightly. Our fingers intertwine as the heat in our brand burns hotter than it ever has before. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
All I can see is them.
He wraps the rope around our forearms and up to our wrists tightly, the length biting into our flesh. “I bind your hearts, your souls, the blood in your veins and the energy nestled in your bond. I bind you before The Order by the Gods. So that your souls may never part. Kita Hagiasa, do you accept your bindings? Your place with your Harbingers?”
“Yes, I do.” She says, barely above a whisper, more tears streaming from her azure eyes. My lips aching for hers. “You may start the circle.” He orders, his voice forceful yet soft. Strong and kind, taking on both his roles as an elder and her doting grandfather. I don’t think I’ve ever admired him more than I do at this moment. If he can be both. So can we. For her. We can be the Harbingers that compete our purpose and the ones that get to live by her side. The ritual will work because there’s no way this can end. Not yet. She gives him a shy look, sucking her lip between her teeth. He lets slip a small chuckle before leaning forward and whispering, “Touch one of their brands.” She doesn’t hesitate as she reaches out, slipping her hand under Milo’s suit jacket, her palm flush against his chest. She gasps, swaying on her feet slightly. Our bound arms steadying her as a tingle more akin to electric shock rips through the bond. Somehow both a physical and nonphysical thing.
“Tate Voclain, do you accept your bindings? Your place with your gift under the eyes of the goddesses?”
“Yes.” My voice sounds strange to me, as if I’m far away watching all of this play out from somewhere else. My soul forces itself to the front as it touches and mingles with theirs. I reach out, pressing my hang to her exposed brand, the dip of her neckline exposing it for everyone to see. A reminder of what’s ours.
What’s always been ours.
Another sharp shock rattles through us, leaving an even more tantalizing hum in its wake. Deniki clears his throat, “Milo Voclain, do you accept your bind- “
“I do.” He interrupts, his sly smile growing as he reaches out, dipping his free hand under my suit jacket the same way she did. Pressing his palm flat against the brand. Another jolt forces the smallest of whimpers from her full lips, our powers and energy surge left unhinged by her. The crowd around us fidgets in their seats as Deniki steps closer, willing small drops of water at the top of his finger as he drips it over our bindings. The few guests in attendance blissfully unaware of the assaulting energy.
“Everett Voclain, do you accept your bindings? Your place with your gift in the eyes of your goddesses?” A deafening silence fills the courtyard, one each of us feel deep in our bones. In our hearts. The words leave our before we think to open them, “Of course.”
