"Step away from the heretic, Soren. Now."
Julian’s voice didn’t carry the warmth of a colleague. It carried the edge of a guillotine. He stood ten feet away, flanked by four Inquisitors whose armor shimmered with a cold, oppressive light. Behind them, three mana hounds—lean, eyeless beasts with translucent skin and jagged teeth—lowered their heads, sniffing the damp air of the tunnels.
Soren didn’t move. He shifted his weight, his boots crunching on the wet stone, and stepped half an inch in front of me. He didn’t look back, but I could feel the heat radiating off his shoulders.
"She’s a high-value asset, Julian," Soren said, his voice a low, dangerous grate. "The Tribunal wants her alive for questioning."
Julian laughed, a short, sharp sound that echoed off the cavern walls. "The Tribunal wants the heresy purged. You’re just stalling. Or maybe you’ve developed a taste for the filth you’re supposed to burn?"
I leaned back against the jagged rock, my breath coming in shallow hitches. My ribs were screaming, and every time I inhaled, I tasted copper. I looked up at Soren’s broad back. He was the only thing between me and a very messy death, and honestly, I wasn't sure if I trusted him enough to let him stay there.
"I’m not filth," I muttered, loud enough for Julian to hear. "I’m the only one here who knows how to stitch a hole in a lung without using a prayer book."
Julian’s eyes snapped to me. Cold. Void. "Silence, girl. You’re a glitch in the system. A mistake that needs erasing."
He raised his hand, and a shimmering violet seal formed in the air. The mana hounds let out a synchronized hiss, their bodies tensing. They didn't see with eyes; they saw the flow of magic. And right now, my soul was practically screaming with the forbidden system's glow, humming like a live wire under my skin.
"Soren," Julian said, his tone shifting to something mockingly patient. "Move. Or I’ll assume you’ve been compromised by the bind. I’ll treat you as a traitor."
Soren’s hand tightened on the hilt of his blade. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles had gone white. He wasn't just protecting me—he was calculating. He knew the power gap. Julian had the support of the squad and the favor of the High Tribunal. Soren had a bleeding side and a rogue medic who could accidentally kill him if she sneezed too hard.
"I'm not moving," Soren replied.
"Wrong answer," Julian snapped.
He flicked his wrist. A bolt of concentrated arcane energy tore through the air, a streak of violet lightning aimed directly at Soren’s chest.
I didn't think. I didn't have time to. I reached out, my fingers grazing the fabric of Soren's trousers, and jammed my thumb hard into the nerve cluster at the back of his calf.
Soren’s leg buckled instinctively. He dropped six inches, the spell whistling over his head and slamming into the rock wall behind us with a deafening crack. Shards of stone sprayed everywhere.
"What the hell are you doing?" Soren hissed, twisting his head to glare at me.
"Saving your ass!" I snapped back, my voice raspy. "You're too stiff! Move or die, you idiot!"
Julian’s face twisted. He hadn't expected a physical intervention. He hadn't expected the 'asset' to have the balls to touch a High Inquisitor.
"You little rat," Julian spat. "Kill them both. I don't care about the questioning anymore."
The hounds leaped.
They were a blur of translucent muscle and hunger. Soren recovered instantly, his blade singing as it left the scabbard. He didn't even look at the first hound; he just stepped into its path and sliced upward. A spray of glowing, ethereal blood painted the cavern wall. The beast shrieked, a sound that felt like a needle driving into my brain.
"Get behind me!" Soren roared.
I didn't argue. I scrambled back, my boots slipping in the muck. I could feel the system pulsing in my mind—a countdown timer flickering in the corner of my vision. *Binding Stability: 42%. Warning: Host physical trauma exceeding threshold.*
I reached into my satchel, fingers closing around a jagged piece of reinforced glass I’d salvaged from the ruins. It wasn't a weapon, but it was a conductor.
Soren was a whirlwind of steel, parrying the other two hounds with brutal efficiency. But he was flagging. Every time he swung, I felt a phantom tug in my own chest, a sympathetic ache that told me his energy was draining. We were soul-bound, and my body was a leaky battery.
"Soren, you're slowing down!" I yelled, dodging a stray swipe from a hound that had managed to circle around.
"Shut up and breathe!" he barked, kicking a hound in the ribs and sending it skidding across the floor.
He stepped back toward me, his chest heaving. His eyes were wild, locked on Julian, who was calmly watching the slaughter from the perimeter. Julian wasn't fighting. He was waiting. He was letting Soren exhaust himself, letting the hounds wear him down until he was nothing but a bleeding shell.
"Is this the best the High Inquisitor can do?" Julian asked, his voice echoing with a cruel amusement. "Fighting dogs in a sewer? You’ve fallen far, Soren."
Soren didn't answer. He stood his ground, his shoulder brushing mine. I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of my clothes, the scent of ozone and old blood clinging to him. For a second, the chaos faded. There was just the sound of our synchronized breathing and the oppressive weight of Julian’s gaze.
"You're not getting her," Soren whispered, more to himself than to me.
"Why do you even care?" I whispered back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I'm just a tool to you."
He glanced at me, a flicker of something—irritation, or maybe something worse—crossing his face. "You're a tool that keeps me from dying. Don't confuse utility with affection."
"Good," I breathed. "Because I’m not exactly feeling the romance here."
Julian stepped forward, his boots clicking on the stone. The remaining hounds sat back on their haunches, waiting for the final command. The air around Julian began to distort, the temperature dropping until my breath misted in the air.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll of blackened parchment, bound with silver wire. A kill-scroll. Not a spell, but a direct execution order from the Tribunal, imbued with enough power to snap a soul-bond if the user knew the trigger.
Soren froze. He knew exactly what that was.
"The Tribunal grew impatient with your hesitation, Soren," Julian said, his voice now devoid of all emotion. "They decided that the risk of a compromised Inquisitor is greater than the value of a rogue medic."
Julian gripped the silver wire.
"Orders changed, Hale," Julian sneered, a predatory smile curling his lips. "You both die here."
He snapped the wire.
At that exact moment, a blood-red window exploded in my vision, obscuring everything else.
[CRITICAL ALERT: EXTERNAL EXECUTION TRIGGER DETECTED] [SOUL-BOND STATUS: COMPROMISED] [FORCED TERMINATION SEQUENCE INITIATED... 3... 2...]