Lucien's body was heavier than Elara expected.
Not in weight—he was lean, his form built more from shadows than muscle—but in presence. It felt as though the night itself had collapsed into her arms. She struggled to hold him upright as Mara hurried toward her, lantern swinging wildly in one hand.
"Bring him inside!" Mara barked. "Hurry, child!"
Elara half-carried, half-dragged Lucien toward the hut. His head rested against her shoulder, his breath faint and uneven. She could feel cold seeping from his skin into her own, but she didn't let go.
Not again.
Not after everything he had done tonight.
Not after he'd stood between her and a god.
Villagers stepped aside, whispering prayers they didn't fully understand.
"That's the creature who saved us."
"Is he dying?"
"What happens to the healer if he does?"
"Look—the mark on her chest is glowing!"
Indeed, the glow beneath Elara's cloak had grown brighter, the heat almost searing against her skin. She clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on Lucien.
"Hold on," she whispered to him. "Just hold on."
Inside the hut, the lantern light made Lucien's face appear sharper, almost fragile. Elara lowered him onto Mara's cot, her hands shaking.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
And that terrified her more than any priest or Vessel ever had.
Mara immediately began rummaging through jars. "I need nightroot, bitter moss, and shadowbane resin. Quickly!"
Elara grabbed the ingredients, her fingers trembling so badly she nearly spilled the jars.
"Mara," she whispered, "what's happening to him?"
The old woman placed a hand over Lucien's forehead. "His curse is pulling back. Fighting him for what little strength he has left."
Elara's heart squeezed. "Why now? Is it because of the Vessel?"
"No." Mara's eyes darkened. "It's because he fought the Vessel for you. The bond surged. His life force clashed with the divine chain. It's a miracle he's still breathing."
Elara pressed a hand to her trembling mouth. "What do we do?"
Mara didn't look away from Lucien as she crushed herbs with a pestle. "He needs strength. Shadow magic consumes energy. But he cannot feed in this state."
Elara stiffened. "Feed? You mean—"
"Blood," Mara said gently. "It is the only medicine his body accepts."
Elara's breath caught. "But he refuses to take blood from me."
"Then he will die."
The words hit like a blow.
Elara stared at Lucien's still face—ashen, jaw slack, breath shallow. She reached out and brushed hair from his forehead.
"Lucien," she whispered. "Wake up. Please."
But he didn't stir.
Mara touched Elara's shoulder. "Child… he needs what only you can give. But it must be done carefully. He must choose it. You cannot force a bond deeper without consent."
Elara swallowed hard. "Then how do we help him if he's unconscious?"
Mara sighed, her expression weighed by knowledge older than both of them.
"The bond between you is ancient magic. If you call him—truly call him—his spirit may hear you."
Elara blinked. "Call him… how?"
Mara gestured to her chest. "With the mark. With the part of you that is tied to him."
Elara's pulse began to race.
"But I don't know how to use it."
"You learned to breathe before you learned to speak," Mara said softly. "Some power is instinct."
Elara looked down at Lucien.
He seemed so still.
Too still.
The fear that clawed up her spine was primal and suffocating.
She knelt beside him, placing both hands over his. His skin was cold—colder than the marsh wind.
Her throat tightened.
"Lucien," she whispered, leaning closer. "I know you hear me, somewhere in there. You always do. So listen now."
Her mark pulsed—slow at first, then faster, syncing with her rising desperation.
"You told me not to let go," she said, voice trembling. "So I won't. I won't let you slip away. Not after everything we've been through. Not after you saved all those people. Not after you saved me."
Her hands tightened around his.
"You are not done. You promised you would come back."
Her voice broke.
"So come back."
Light flared from her chest—warm, fierce, powerful.
Mara stumbled backward. "By the spirits…"
The light enveloped Lucien's body, spreading from Elara's hands like a blanket of warmth and fire. His fingers twitched. His breathing hitched. His eyelids fluttered.
"Lucien?" Elara whispered.
But then—a shockwave burst through the hut.
Elara was thrown backward, hitting the floor hard.
The lantern shattered. Herbs scattered. The walls trembled.
"Child!" Mara cried, rushing to her side.
Elara gasped for air, the wind knocked from her lungs. Pain shot through her ribs, but she forced herself up.
Lucien was still lying on the cot—but his skin glowed faintly with shadows that twisted in and out of his form.
"What—what's happening?" Elara whispered.
Mara stared, horrified. "Your light awakened his curse."
Elara's heart lurched. "That wasn't supposed to happen!"
"No," Mara whispered. "But the bond doubled its reach. Your power is affecting him more than ever."
Lucien's chest heaved suddenly, as if fighting something inside. His hands clenched the blanket. His breath became ragged.
Elara rushed to his side again. "Lucien! Please!"
Shadows burst from his chest—then retracted, like something breaking free and being pulled back.
"He's fighting his own curse," Mara whispered. "Fighting death. Fighting fate."
Elara grabbed his arm again. "Lucien, stay with me!"
His lips parted.
Barely.
"Elara…"
Her name.
His voice—weak, raw, but unmistakably alive.
She leaned closer, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm right here."
His eyes fluttered open—just for a second.
A brief, fragile sliver of crimson light.
"Elara…" he breathed again, "don't… stop…"
Then his eyes closed once more—but his breathing steadied, the darkness around him settling.
Mara exhaled shakily. "He's stabilizing."
Elara sobbed with relief. "So he's going to live?"
"For now," Mara said.
Elara's head jerked up. "What do you mean for now?"
Mara hesitated.
"The Vessel was not sent to kill him," she said quietly. "It was sent to test you. To provoke the bond. To awaken the prophecy."
Elara swallowed hard. "What prophecy?"
Mara took her hand, her voice trembling.
"Child… the god who hunts you believes your blood can restore him. But there is another prophecy—one hidden from the priests."
Elara's pulse quickened. "What prophecy?"
Mara closed her eyes.
"The prophecy that says your bond with Lucien can end the god forever."
Elara froze.
Silence swallowed the room.
Finally, Elara whispered:
"How?"
Mara looked at Lucien's unconscious form.
"Because you are the Light."
"And he is the Darkness."
"And together… you are the balance the god cannot control."
Elara stared at Lucien, heart pounding.
The god wanted her blood.
The priests wanted her power.
Her mother had died to hide her.
The Warden had warned her.
The Vessel had tested her.
And through it all…
Lucien had stood between her and the darkness, even as it consumed him.
Elara clenched Lucien's cold hand, fierce determination igniting inside her.
"Then we fight."
Mara nodded.
"You will," she said. "Together."
Elara looked at the sleeping vampire, her chest glowing softly.
And for the first time, she understood:
Lucien wasn't the danger in her life.
He was the shield.
The anchor.
The piece of the prophecy that had been waiting for her as much as she had been waiting for it.
She leaned closer, whispering softly:
"Lucien… I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
And somewhere deep inside his darkness—
the bond answered.