Chains of Love

Chapter 1

Lirien

The leaves crunch beneath my feet as I navigate through the twisted roots and gnarled branches, each step carefully placed to avoid disturbing the delicate balance of power I sense in this sacred place.

Moonlight filters through the canopy, casting strange shadows that dance across my path like spirits yearning to break free. A chorus of crickets fills the air, their song growing louder with each step, as if nature itself acknowledges my presence here.

"Perfect," I whisper, stepping into a small clearing where moonlight pools like liquid silver, exactly the kind of natural focal point my magic craves.

My robes rustle against the dewy grass as I settle down, laying out my materials with practiced precision—crystals catching the light, herbs still fragrant from my garden, and the ancient tokens passed down through generations of my kind.

I close my eyes, letting the night air fill my lungs, feeling the familiar tingle of power that always accompanies these midnight rituals. The wind carries the scent of damp earth and autumn leaves, whispering secrets only a Purna can understand. Something small—probably a field mouse—scurries through the underbrush nearby, and I smile at how even the smallest creatures seem drawn to the gathering energy of my workspace.

"Guardians of the North, keepers of earth and stone, I bid you welcome." My voice carries on the breeze as I place a chunk of obsidian in the northernmost point of my circle. "Grant me your strength tonight."

Turning clockwise, I face the next direction. "Watchers of the East, masters of air and thought, join me in my purpose." A white feather floats from my fingers, settling perfectly in position.

"Spirits of the South, bearers of fire and passion." The candle I place flickers to life without a touch. "Your warmth guides my path."

"And West, rulers of water and emotion, complete this sacred space." Water from a clear spring trickles from my vial onto the ground.

My hands tremble slightly as I remove the final item from my bag—a dried nightshade flower, preserved from last summer's bloom. Its delicate petals still hold the deep purple hue that marks it as perfect for tonight's ritual, each velvety petal a testament to the poisonous power contained within.

"Valentia," I murmur, my voice carrying the weight of centuries of purna wisdom, the name itself a whispered echo of ancient heartbreak. "Valentia, you who gave everything for love," I continue, my voice stronger now, drawing on generations of witches who have called upon her tragic tale. "Guide me to—"

The candle snuffs out. Darkness crashes down as clouds swallow the moon, plunging my sacred circle into an unnatural blackness that makes my skin crawl. My heart pounds against my ribs as the magic surges, twisting into something wrong, something unplanned—a perversion of the careful weaving I've spent hours crafting. The air grows thick with the metallic taste of corrupted power, and I feel the carefully placed wards beginning to strain against an unseen force.

A flash of steel catches what little light remains. Pain explodes across my cheek, hot and sharp. I stumble backward, my hand coming away wet with blood.

"Stop!" I throw myself to the side as another strike whistles past my ear. "Please, you don't understand—"

His blade catches my sleeve, tearing through fabric. In the darkness, his eyes burn with a feral intensity I've never seen before. He moves like a predator, all controlled grace and deadly purpose.

"Stop it!" My voice cracks as I scramble away, nearly tripping over my own robes. The summoning circle's power holds him here, but it won't protect me from his blade.

He lunges forward, sword arcing through the air where my throat had been a heartbeat before. My back hits a tree trunk. Trapped.

"Please," I gasp, raising my hands. Blood trickles down my neck from the cut on my cheek.

Moonlight floods the clearing like a silver tide, revealing my attacker frozen mid-strike. His blade hovers inches from my throat, muscles straining against invisible bonds. Dark tattoos wind up his arms, disappearing beneath leather armor that's seen better days.

A war cry tears from his throat as he fights against the magic holding him. The blade trembles, inching closer—but something pulls taut in my chest, like a string being plucked. The sensation spreads through my limbs, tingling and warm. His attack stops dead.

"By the Deciever, what sorcery is this?" His accent is thick, unfamiliar. "Stop this!"

I press myself against the tree trunk, heart hammering. This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I planned. The magic binding us pulses with each breath, a constant reminder of what I've done. "I... I don't... I can't…"

"What? Speak!" His eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Why can't I kill you? What have you done to me? Where am I?"

The questions rapid-fire from him like arrows. My fingers trace the cut on my cheek, coming away sticky with blood. "I'm so sorry," I manage. "I must have summoned you by accident."

"Accident?" He spits the word like poison. "You tear me from my battle, poisoned me with your foul magic, and claim it was an accident?"

"I was trying to—" I stop myself. No need to give him more ammunition.

"Release me. Now." Each word drips with barely contained fury.

"I told you, I can't. The binding, it's..." I gesture helplessly between us. "It's already taken hold."

His response is a stream of curses in what I assume is his native tongue. The magic holds him firmly in place, but his rage fills the clearing like a physical presence.

"The binding responds to emotions," I explain, keeping my voice steady despite the fear fluttering in my chest. "The more agitated you are, the tighter it holds. If you want to move again, you'll need to calm down."

His jaw clenches. "You expect me to be calm when you've 'summoned me' to the middle of fucking nowhere?"

"I expect you to be practical. Unless you'd prefer to stay frozen like that all night?"

Seconds tick by. The muscles in his neck gradually relax, and his breathing evens out. The magical bonds loosen their grip, allowing him to lower his sword.

"There. Better, isn't it?" I brush dirt from my robes, trying to project more confidence than I feel. "I'm Lirien, by the way."

"Demon-spawn," he growls, but at least he's not trying to kill me anymore. "What manner of hell-creature are you?"

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. "Hell-creature? Please. I'm as human as any other." I gesture to my face, then immediately regret drawing attention to the cut he gave me. "Well, mostly. I'm what's called a Purna – we can tap into Protheka's natural magic flows. Nothing demonic about it."

He sheaths his sword with deliberate slowness, never taking his eyes off me. The motion reminds me of a cat putting away its claws – a temporary concession, not a surrender.

"Did that make sense?" I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, wincing as my fingers brush against the cut. "And you are?"

He crosses his arms, radiating suspicion. After a long pause: "Darak."

"Just Darak?"

"That's all you need to know, demon."

Darak spins on his heel and stalks away through the trees, his long strides eating up the ground. My heart leaps into my throat.

"Wait!" I gather my robes and scramble after him, ducking under low-hanging branches. "Where are you going?"

He doesn't even look back. "Away from you. Home."

"You don't even know where you are!" Leaves and twigs crunch under my feet as I try to keep pace. "This is leagues from any settlement. And even if you did know the way—"

"I'll figure it out." His voice drips with disdain.

A root catches my toe and I stumble. The bond between us tugs at my chest, a constant reminder. "The binding spell won't let you get far. We're tethered now, whether you like it or not."

He whirls around so fast I nearly crash into him. His crimson eyes flash with fury in the darkness. "What did you say?"

I take a step back, hands raised. "The ritual created a magical bond. If you try to leave, it'll just pull you back. But listen—"

"You dare to chain me like some common beast?" His voice rises to a roar that sends birds scattering from nearby trees.

"I know where to go to break it!" The words tumble out in a rush. "If we get to a coven, their elder will have the power that I don't."

He looms over me, teeth bared. "And I should trust you because?"

"Because I want this fixed as much as you do. This wasn't supposed to happen."

The silence stretches between us, broken only by the whisper of wind through leaves and my own rapid breathing. Finally, his shoulders drop a fraction.

"How far?"

"I'm not sure," I murmur. "But I do know the way, and I can get you there. Please."

He stalks forward, pointing a finger at me—probably because he knows he can't use his blade. "You better not be lying."

I shake my head frantically.

Dropping his hand, he huffs. "Fine."