Blood Bond

Darkness. Then, not darkness, but a heavy, muffled weight behind my eyes. A dull throbbing. Slowly, reluctantly, consciousness seeped back, bringing with it the faint, cloying scent of incense and something sharp, like medicinal herbs. I blinked, focusing on a ceiling far simpler than I remembered – rough-hewn stone, not the intricate carvings of my… my?… canopy. Where am I?

The edges of the stone seemed... sharp. Unusually clear. My hand automatically went to push my glasses up my nose, a motion done a million times, but my fingers just met the smooth bridge of an unfamiliar nose. No glasses?

Panic jolted through me. I tried to sit up, pushing against the coarse blanket covering me. A hand flopped weakly into my field of vision. Small. Pale. Way too spindly fingers. Not my hand. My heart hammered against my ribs. I pushed the blanket further down. A cascade of hair spilled forward – startlingly, shockingly red, like polished copper in the light filtered from a high window. My hair isn't red. It was dark, wavy, and short… wasn't it?

This isn't my body. The thought screamed through my mind, raw terror clawing its way up my throat. This body felt… slight. Delicate. Wrong. I tried to take a deep breath, but the lungs felt tight, restricted. Am I out of shape?

Then, jarringly, another thought slid in, smooth and disdainful. Adequate, I suppose, for a temple recovery cell. Though a little drab. The memory associated with it was sharp: silken sheets, the scent of moon orchids, Anya's soft voice… Wait. Who is Anya?

My head spun. Images flooded my mind, chaotic and contradictory. The hiss of an omelet in a pan, the feel of worn backpack straps digging into bony shoulders, Maya yelling "Slowpoke!" from a sunlit street… juxtaposed with the cool gleam of polished castle floors, the weight of embroidered gowns, Kael's stiff, disapproving presence. Bacon or pastries? Running shoes or silk slippers? What ARE these things?

The disorientation brought the final moments before the darkness rushed back in a dizzying flood. Kyle grabbed Sam by the collar, fists being thrown, the desperate need to push them apart… then Naomi's worried face rushed towards me. Naomi! The name was a sharp pang. Have to get to school…

No! Another memory slammed into place, colder, sharper. The echoing Wardstone chamber, the terrifying point, the blood-red trails, the pulsing heart vision, the feeling of being restrained, Astrid's voice calling "Ela, be calm!", reaching out, finding a hand... Wait, whose hand? Then darkness.

Ela? My hand – this small, pale hand – flew instinctively to my chest, just below the collarbone. Fingers met smooth fabric – the cream ceremonial gown. Beneath it, where a crystal should be… there was a prominent, perfectly spherical bulge. I scrambled upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness, pulling the fabric aside with trembling fingers.

There it was. Not a crystal, not a faceted stone pulsing with elemental light. Just a smooth, spherical shape, dark blood-red, like a solidified droplet grown impossibly large, utterly unlike the Soul Seeds everyone else received. It couldn't be ignored.

A violent shudder wracked through me as an afterimage flared behind my eyes – the grotesque tangle of veins where people should have been. Gods... Oh god... what happened? Where am I? WHO am I?

Before the panic could completely consume me, the heavy wooden door to the room creaked open. I flinched, scrambling back against the headboard, expecting... another fleshless horror of veins and arteries.

Instead, Father filled the doorway, his large frame seeming to dwarf the simple temple cell. Gone were the rich robes from the antechamber, replaced now with simpler, though still fine, travelling clothes. His usually booming warmth was banked by deep concern etched around his kind eyes, his brown-and-grey beard looking disheveled. He took a hesitant step inside.

And the sight of him—solid, real, flesh—hit me with the force of a physical blow. He's not… he's not veins. The relief was so sharp, so absolute after the nightmare vision. It felt like pain. Tears instantly blurred my vision. A desperate sob built in my throat. This solid, familiar presence was an anchor in the swirling chaos of my mind.

Then I was struck by another, utterly alien feeling – a profound, disbelieving shock. Father? Here? Looking worried? The thought echoed, confusingly. He... he hasn't left. I saw in my memories another man, years ago, awkwardly handing over a cheap plastic robot, and then stepping away. Father moved closer; I sensed his strong arms beginning to close around me in a hug. No, it's not him. And yet it is.

"Elara? Treasure? What is it? What's wrong?" Father's voice, thick with concern, was the final key turning in the lock.

A strangled cry escaped me, followed by another, and then I was crying—no, sobbing—uncontrollably, tears streaming down unfamiliar cheeks, the slight frame of this body shaking with the force of emotions that felt both intimately mine and terrifyingly other. I curled inward on the bed, overwhelmed by the flood, unable to speak, unable to think. I was lost in his arms.

—

It took a while for the sobs to subside. I let myself sink into the beats of his heart.

Alright Leo, let's think through this. There must be some logical explanation. Am I hallucinating? Stress-induced psychosis from the fight with Kyle? First day of school? Did I get way too engrossed in 'Dragon Watch'? But warmth around me felt undeniably real. Did I want a dad that badly? A family like this? But then, why am I like… Maya? I turned over my tiny hand. Memories of me strutting through the castle and picking on Kael flashed past. And why am I such a spoiled brat?!

No, no, no! I'm Elara, of Aethelgard! There is no Earth. None of these mountless carriages, no steel birds, no glowing scenes with unmagical magic behind them. It's a trick. A spell gone wrong. The Wardstone! Something must have gone wrong with the seeding.

"Elara?" Father's voice rumbled over me. I pulled myself back from the comfort of his warmth. Strange. I had never broken down against him like this before, not that I remember. He was always the one chasing me.

There were others in the room. Mother was kneeling beside the bed, her usually composed face etched with deep concern, a cool hand resting gently on my back. Astrid and Theron stood near the foot of the bed, their expressions mirrored images of worry – Astrid tense and watchful, Theron looking grimly thoughtful. Kael, I sensed, was a silent, rigid presence near the doorway.

Meris slipped into the room. Weaving between everyone's still figures, she placed a tray with a steaming cup of herbal tea on the bedside table before retreating.

"What... what is this?" I looked from Father to Mother. My hand pulled down at the collar of the now-stretched gown, revealing the blood red sphere. I didn't dare touch it.

Mother and Father exchanged glances. There seemed a struggle, a silent fight on who should answer. Mother squeezed my shoulder gently. "Elara..." she began, her voice soft but strained, "the Head Priest... he said the Wardstone had gifted you something. Different." She hesitated, licking her lips. "He says the mark... the seed... it's unlike any recorded before, child. Unique to you."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Father nodded quickly, forcing a reassuring smile that didn't reach his worried eyes. "Powerful, the priests are certain of that, treasure! An unprecedented sign!" He faltered. "They just... need time to consult the archives. No one has seen its like before."

Unique. Powerful. Unprecedented. Those words can't be good. It brought to mind the image of a guinea pig, waiting to be pushed and prodded with instruments, to be dissected. My eyes darted about. They're tip-toeing around their words. The way their eyes avoided mine. I knew: They're hiding something.

My eyes focused upon Astrid, who hadn't looked this way once all this time. Usually she's the first to say something, especially if I misbehaved, but now her gaze was cast downwards, upon the soul crystal nestled against the silver of her armor. It was still a tint of fiery orange-red with the intricate rune of mage-knight within, but the halo was gone – that dark red glow surrounding it was no more.

The realization made me jump. "Elara!?" Father cried out and grasped for me.

Had I been Chosen? Is that what this was? I pulled at my gown again. There didn't seem to be a halo, but the whole damn thing was red, deep red, that very same color. No, it can't be. The thought of me standing against a vast array of armed soldiers bristling with spears and shields made both of my selves shudder viscerally. It's ridiculous!

—

The storm inside me exhausted itself into a fragile calm, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness and the dizzying echo of conflicting thoughts. Sometime later – minutes? hours? – I was dressed in a simple dress of green velvet that reached my ankles, the collar high to hide my disturbing crystal. The recovery room felt stifling, the scent of incense cloying. "I need some air," I murmured, pushing away the barely touched cup of tea Meris had brewed.

Kael opened the door immediately, Meris falling into step behind us as we left the confines of the guest wing. We walked in silence through cool stone corridors, eventually emerging into a large, open courtyard bathed in the waning evening amber. Paved flagstones stretched out, bordered by covered walkways and arched openings leading to other parts of the temple complex. It was quieter here than the bustling entrance hall, though a few acolytes swept distant corners, and pairs of nobles conversed in low tones beneath the arches.

A sharp, jarring clang of metal meeting metal drew my attention, followed by the distinct whoosh of displaced air. Two figures circled each other on a small square in the center of the courtyard. It was Astrid and Cassian, and in their hands were swords, practice ones I hoped. Astrid's blade was long and wide, like what I'd imagined a greatsword would be, while Cassian wielded two curved, single-edged blades, one in each hand. Bright flickers of flame writhed over the length of Astrid's sword; black tendrils wreathed Cassian's twin blades like living shadows. When they clashed, sprays of fire and darkness exploded from the point of impact, momentarily illuminating a translucent barrier shimmering around the square.

"Ah, so the wolf cub is eager to try out his new seed," Meris said quietly from beside me. I glanced at her, reminded once more of the advanced rune she bore. Why would someone like that be my maid? The thought flickered before another clash yanked my attention back to the fight.

Astrid pressed the attack, her usual confident grace replaced with something harder, almost brutal. Each swing of her greatsword carried relentless force; her jaw was set, her blue eyes narrowed to icy points, fixed on Cassian with a terrifying focus I'd never witnessed. He met her fiery blade, then seemed to almost melt away from the point of impact, reappearing instantly a few feet to the side with blinding speed, probing for an opening with quick jabs. But Astrid's blade anticipated him, meeting his shadowy ones every time. With a loud, jarring clang that shuddered through the air, she batted his defense aside, sending him wobbling back amidst a spray of sparks and shadow. He barely recovered before she was on him again, relentless.

I was mesmerized. This was sword and magic in the flesh. It was real! Better than any video game rendering.

After a furious exchange where Cassian seemed to blur and reappear half a dozen times, Astrid feinted high, then brought her flaming sword down in a devastating low arc. It connected solidly with his twin blades, the impact echoing like a thunderclap. Cassian's swords went spinning from his grasp, clattering uselessly on the flagstones. In the same impossibly fast motion, Astrid flicked her giant blade around, the fiery tip coming to rest inches from Cassian's throat. She held the pose, her breath steady, firelight dancing in her narrowed eyes. She had won.

A collective breath I hadn't realized was being held hissed out from the few onlookers nearby. I found myself jumping up in applause. "That was wonderful Astrid!"

She blinked toward my voice, that brutal intensity instantly replaced by a relieved smile. "Ela? You're out and about already? I'm glad to see you up."

Cassian stepped up beside her. "As am I. And thank you for the session, your highness." He rubbed at his neck. "It was… instructive."

I decided to let the two of them talk shop for a bit. And as I looked about the courtyard, a reedy voice approached from behind, startlingly close. "Princess Elara," Jarlen drawled, emerging smoothly from the cool shade of the nearby cloister walkway. "So glad to see you recovered."

I turned, startled by his proximity. He stepped closer, his expression radiating sweet concern that didn't quite reach his... purple eyes? And he's an elf! An actual elf, not just some fantasy character in Maya's books, with sharp tips of ears protruding out of his dark hair. But my other memories asserted themselves. I knew elves existed. They're all around the markets, I saw their play before from a theater troupe.

"We were all so worried when we heard… such distressing screams." His gaze drifted pointedly lower, towards my neck and the high collar of my tunic. "There have been whispers that your Soul Seed has been damaged." He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Surely that's impossible?" He gave a slight, questioning smile. "It'd cause quite a stir if a high royal princess were to lose her seed due to being… ill prepared." He glinted malevolently at Kael and Meris behind me.

"I… I umm…" The words caught in my throat. My mind was still sluggish, the din of conflicting thoughts churned on in the background. What's wrong with me? My hand flew instinctively to my collar, but then froze when both Kael and Meris stiffened almost imperceptibly behind me. No. That's what he wanted. He's trying to get me to show him the crystal by insulting my attendants. He's insulting my family! I forced my hand down, smoothing the green velvet, meeting Jarlen's probing gaze with deliberate ice.

"I am perfectly fine, Prince Jarlen," I said, my voice steady now. "There is nothing that requires your concern. And I have been prepared well."

Jarlen's dark eyes lingered on my neck for a moment longer. "I see. Well, do tell your brother that Deepwood is always open should Aethelgard have need of… our services." With a final, knowing glance, he turned and walked away, passing Cassian on his way out of the courtyard. Jarlen's head turned as they passed, and whatever silent exchange occurred left Cassian scowling deeply after the departing elf.

Astrid approached us. She had removed her helmet and gauntlets after the spar. Sweat-dampened strands of hair escaped her usually severe braid, and the brutal intensity on her face had softened into familiar concern. She gently placed a bare hand on my shoulder.

"Don't let Jarlen bother you, Ela," she sighed, shaking her head. "That boy loves getting under everyone's skin. It's what those elves do best. Schemes upon schemes." Her attention snapped back to me, blue eyes searching mine. "Are you truly alright?"

The simple, direct concern felt startling. "There are... whispers, Astrid," I admitted, the words hesitant. "Rumors. That my seed was damaged."

Astrid raised a hand, glancing subtly around the courtyard before resting her fingers gently over mine. "Not here, Ela," she murmured softly but firmly. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "It's just idle gossip. Don't let yourself be bothered by such nonsense." Her dismissal was kind, but utterly vague, confirming nothing.

Not here... nonsense... It was just like Father and Mother. They are hiding it. The realization solidified, cold and heavy. I remembered Astrid's Soul Crystal, the missing halo. She's not Chosen anymore. The thought landed with certainty. Does that mean... I need to step up now?

Pushing past the sudden chill, I met her gaze directly, driven by an unfamiliar urge to bridge the gap. "I just... I don't want to be useless anymore, Astrid," I said, the words tumbling out. "I want to help. With… whatever is happening." I took a shaky breath. "You can lean on me too, you know."

Surprise flickered across Astrid's face, genuine this time, followed by that complex mix of warmth and deep sadness. "Oh, Ela..." she began, seemingly lost for words. Instead, she reached out and pulled me into a firm hug. Just as quickly, she released me, her expression settling back into careful composure. "Just... focus on feeling stronger," she murmured, stepping back. "That's help enough for now."