Chapter 29 · Price of the Curse

"Don't move. Not a single inch."

Silas's hand clamped onto my wrist like a vice.

I felt it instantly—the Soul-Bind. It wasn't just some magical link; it was a physical hum under my skin, a vibrating wire connecting my pulse to his. When he squeezed, a phantom pressure echoed in my own arm. Sickening. Intimate. A total nightmare.

"Get off me," I spat, wrenching my arm.

"You're leaking," he whispered. His voice dropped, dangerous and low. He didn't let go. Instead, he hauled me closer until his chest nearly brushed mine. "Your power. It's spilling out of you like a cracked vase. If the guards catch a whiff of that energy, we're both dead before you can blink."

I glared up at him, breath hitching. "I can handle my own energy, Inquisitor. I just leveled up. I'm not some fragile doll."

"You're a walking beacon," Silas countered. He stepped in, crowding me against the cold stone wall of the vault. He smelled of old parchment and something metallic—ozone and blood. "And since we're bound, your mess is my mess. If you blow our cover, I feel every bit of the pain when they execute us.