I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
How could I, after everything I'd seen—after everything Sylas had done?
By morning, the woods felt different. The magic was still there, clinging to the trees and brushing against my skin like static. But it wasn't just the memory of the Draeven that haunted me—it was the way Sylas had looked at me afterward. Protective. Terrifying. Like he was carrying a secret too heavy to name.
Ava didn't suspect a thing. She handed me a cup of coffee with a sleepy smile, and I pretended to be fine. I didn't mention the creature or Sylas or the mark that still burned faintly beneath my skin like it had its own heartbeat.
Back on campus, I tried to push it down. Tried to act normal. But the questions kept piling up until they choked me. And finally, I couldn't take it anymore.
I found Sylas in the courtyard that afternoon, sitting alone beneath the old sycamore that overlooked the fountain. He looked up the moment I stepped near, his expression unreadable.
"We need to talk," I said.
"I figured," he said, quietly.
We walked in silence until we reached the garden behind the library—a place where no one ever went, overgrown with ivy and humming with quiet magic. When the door closed behind us, Sylas finally turned.
"You said the creature was called a Draeven," I began. "And it called you a prince. What does that mean?"
His jaw clenched. "It doesn't matter."
"It does to me," I shot back. "It attacked me because of you. Because of this." I held up my wrist, where the mark still shimmered faintly beneath my skin. "You said it was a bond. So tell me the truth. What is it?"
He stared at me for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke. "The kiss… it wasn't just a kiss. It was a rite."
"A rite?" I repeated.
"In the fae realm, a kiss exchanged under certain conditions—moonlight, intention, proximity of power—can create a soulbind. It's old magic. Rare. But once it happens, it's irreversible."
I swallowed. "So... you mean we're… connected?"
"Bound," he said. "It's why I can sense you. Why the mark reacts when you're in danger. It ties our magic together. Our lives, to some degree."
I felt like the air had been knocked out of me.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I didn't want this," he said, voice rough. "I didn't mean for it to happen. You were just… a dare. And now, you're part of something you don't understand. Something dangerous."
"I can handle it," I said.
"You say that now."
"I mean it. I don't want to run from this anymore. I want to know everything."
He looked at me, like he was trying to decide whether to push me away again or finally let me in.
Then he stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully. His eyes searched mine. "If you stay in this, there's no going back."
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere," I whispered.
His hand brushed my wrist, just lightly, but the mark flared to life between us—warm, glowing faintly like embers under skin. Our magic hummed in sync, and for a moment, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.
And then—
A pulse of light burst from the mark. Not just warmth—power. It radiated from my skin in a wave, rushing outwards and slamming into the garden walls like an invisible force. The ivy recoiled. The fountain cracked. The air shimmered, warping like heat on pavement.
Sylas's eyes widened. "That's not supposed to happen."
"What… what was that?"
He didn't answer. He took a step back, staring at my wrist as though seeing it for the first time.
"That was a flare," he said slowly, like the word itself was dangerous. "The bond just… reacted. But it's too soon. That kind of power only shows up if both of us are fae royalty or—" He cut himself off.
"Or what?"
"Or one of us is cursed by the old courts," he finished grimly.
A chill passed through me.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying," Sylas said, voice low, "that whatever this bond is… it's not normal. And neither are you."