Agony tore through Laim’s chest like a jagged shard of ice.
Violet sparks drifted through the damp alley air, remnants of the collapsed dimensional rift that had just shattered the night.
Breathing felt like swallowing glass. Laim pressed a hand to his collarbone, where a strange, glowing brand burned beneath his threadbare shirt.
Across the wet cobblestones, a woman knelt in the debris of the collapsed wall.
Silver hair fell in tangled strands over her face, contrasting sharply with the dark, blood-splattered leather armor she wore.
Coiled like a spring, her posture radiated a dangerous, predatory energy that made the hairs on Laim's arms stand up.
"Who are you?" she hissed, her voice cutting through the cold mist like a razor.
Crimson eyes locked onto him, burning with an intense, unyielding hatred that could melt iron.
Laim struggled to push himself up, his muscles screaming in protest as the residual magic of the rift hummed in his veins.
Before he could form a single word of reply, she lunged forward with terrifying speed.
Cold steel flashed in the dim, flickering light of the alley.
With a feral snarl, she swung a broken runic blade directly at his exposed throat.
Laim braced for the impact, closing his eyes as the weapon whistled through the air, expecting the cold bite of death.
But the strike never landed.
Instead, a violent pulse of violet energy erupted between them, acting like an invisible, solid shield.
A sickening crack echoed in the narrow space, shaking the brick walls.
Pain exploded in Laim’s right shoulder, so intense it stole the air from his lungs and turned his vision white.
She stumbled backward, her grip slipping from the hilt of her broken sword as she let out a choked gasp.
His own hand flew to his shoulder, feeling a warm, wet sensation soaking through his threadbare tunic.
Screaming in agony, he looked down to see his flesh split open in a clean, jagged laceration that bled profusely.
Splinters of bone-deep pain radiated through his entire upper body, mirroring the exact wound she should have inflicted on him.
Both of them were gasping now, clutching the exact same spot on their right shoulders in synchronized misery.
Blood seeped through her leather armor, staining her collar a deep, ruinous crimson.
"What did you do to me?" she gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror.
Golden runes flickered along her collarbone, mirroring the violet light emanating from Laim’s chest.
Iron-clad boots suddenly clattered against the cobblestones at the far end of the alley, breaking the tense silence.
Clenching his jaw to keep from vomiting from the sheer physical backlash, Laim realized the horrifying truth.
Soul Contract magic was real, and it had bound them in the worst possible way.
"Listen to me," Laim rasped, his voice dropping to a dangerous, strained quiet. "If you kill me, you die too. We share the pain."
"A curse," she spat, her teeth clenching as she tried to pull away from the unseen bond.
Every movement she made sent a corresponding jolt of agony through Laim’s shoulder, making him wince.
Likewise, she gasped, clutching her own shoulder as if a hot iron were being pressed into her skin.
"Stop struggling," Laim growled, sweat dripping down his temple. "Every time you fight me, you hurt yourself. Look at your shoulder."
She glanced down, her eyes widening as she saw the blood seeping through her clothes in the exact shape of his own wound.
Fear, cold and sharp, replaced the anger in her eyes for a split second before she masked it with pure venom.
"What kind of dark magic is this?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
"A Soul Contract," Laim said, the words heavy on his tongue. "My lineage. The forbidden bloodline of Velmora. I didn't choose this."
"You are one of them," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. "A high noble of the empire. The very monsters who slaughtered my people."
"I am a bastard," Laim corrected, his voice dropping. "An unwanted discarded piece of trash. My father wants me dead just as much as he wants you dead."
Heavy footsteps echoed closer, accompanied by the distinct, guttural growls of tracking hounds.
Baying in the distance, the beasts of Grand Duke Valerius were closing in on their position.
Grabbing her hand was his only option if they wanted to survive the night.
Laim made his choice, lunging forward to seize her uninjured wrist with a desperate, iron grip.
"Let go of me, Velmoran filth!" she snarled, trying to shake off his grip despite her weakened state.
Pulling her with all the strength he had left, Laim dragged her toward a rusted iron grate in the alley floor.
Mud and filth coated his boots as he kicked the heavy grate aside, revealing the dark, yawning mouth of a sewer conduit.
Without waiting for her consent, he threw himself into the darkness, pulling her down with him into the abyss.
---
Darkness swallowed them whole as they splashed into the freezing, stagnant water below.
Slime-covered brick walls pressed in from all sides, the stench of rot and waste filling the air.
Resting his head against the cold masonry, Laim clutched his bleeding shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
Water dripped from the ceiling, echoing like a slow, ticking clock in the gloomy silence of the underground.
Above them, the muffled sounds of shouting guards and barking hounds passed over the iron grate.
Laim held his breath, pressing his body against the wet stone to minimize any sound.
Beside him, the woman trembled, her breathing shallow and ragged as she fought to keep her composure.
"Why did you save me?" she whispered, her voice dripping with venom.
"Because your death is my death," Laim replied, his voice barely a whisper. "The contract binds our lifeforces. If your heart stops, mine does too."
She stared at him through the gloom, her eyes adjusting to the dark.
"A mutual-destruction pact," she murmured, a dark chuckle escaping her lips. "The universe has a sick sense of humor."
"I am Laim," he said, trying to find some common ground in the dark.
"I don't care what your name is," she snapped, though her voice lacked its earlier fire.
She slumped against the opposite wall, her silver hair clinging to her damp cheeks.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating as the guards' footsteps faded into the distance.
Tears of sheer frustration and pain welled in her eyes, though she quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand.
Princess or not, she was a warrior who refused to let a Velmoran see her break.
Grunting, she dragged herself closer to him in the cramped, filthy tunnel.
Strips of clean cloth were ripped from her inner tunic with a sharp, decisive tear that echoed in the dark.
"Hold still," she commanded, her fingers cold against his feverish, sweating skin.
Laim flinched as she pressed the cloth against his wound, but he didn't pull away.
Tight bandages were wrapped around his shoulder, her movements practiced and surprisingly gentle despite the glare she directed at him.
As she worked, Laim felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest, a phantom sensation of her own pain and exhaustion filtering through the bond.
It was overwhelming, a flood of grief, anger, and betrayal that wasn't his own.
She had lost everything—her home, her family, her honor.
And now, she was bound to a bastard of the empire she hated.
Bitter irony tasted like copper on Laim's tongue.
Never in his life had anyone shown him mercy, let alone a sworn enemy of his nation.
His father, Grand Duke Valerius, had taught him that vulnerability was a death sentence.
To survive, one had to be cold, unyielding, and absolutely self-reliant.
Yet here he was, surviving only because of the forced mercy of a woman who despised him.
Watching her closely, he saw the tension in her jaw, the way her hands trembled slightly as she pulled the knot tight.
"You are a Laurent," Laim murmured, recognizing the faint crest on her broken blade.
"Do not speak that name," she warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"House of Laurent fell three years ago," Laim continued, ignoring her warning. "The empire slaughtered everyone. How did you survive?"
"By refusing to die," she said, her voice cold as ice. "And by vowing to kill every last Velmoran noble who had a hand in it."
"Then you should start with Grand Duke Valerius," Laim said, a bitter smile touching his lips. "He was the one who led the vanguard."
Her hands froze on his shoulder.
Slowly, the realization settled in her eyes as she stared at his face, finding the subtle, aristocratic features he shared with the Grand Duke.
"You are his son," she whispered, her voice suddenly devoid of all warmth.
"His bastard," Laim corrected. "An unwanted thread of fate."
Metal scraped against leather, a sharp, metallic sound that made Laim freeze.
Elara presses her cold dagger against Laim's throat, her eyes glowing crimson as she whispers, 'If I die, you die, but I can still make your life a living hell before we burn.'