The sky stayed broken.
Long after the explosion in the grand hall, lightning still forked across the heavens in unnatural silence, burning blue scars into the night.
The world was no longer pretending.
It knew.
And so did everyone else.
By morning, the estate buzzed with whispers louder than any official decree.
"She's cursed for real this time."
"He's the trigger."
"They'll bring the end."
Guards doubled. Servants vanished. Nobles fled under flimsy excuses of urgent summons.
Even the air tasted different—thinner, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to decide whether to scream or shatter.
I didn't bother pretending anymore.
I stuck close to Virelya.
Where she walked, I followed. Where she stopped, I guarded.
The bond between us hummed with quiet, agonizing tension. Every brush of fingers, every shared glance—it wasn't just feeling anymore.
It was knowing.
I knew her sadness before she spoke.
She knew my fear before I blinked.
We were two hearts caught on the same sword—and every beat drove it deeper.
At sunset, it finally happened.
The first real attempt on her life.
We were crossing the east wing gardens when the attack came.
Not a duel. Not a warning.
Assassins.
Three of them. Cloaked. Masked. Fast.
Their blades glowed with magic—null spells designed to sever magical bonds instantly.
Designed to kill us.
I moved without thinking.
Tackled Virelya to the ground just as the first dagger sliced through the air where her head had been.
She gasped against me, caught between fight and shock.
The second assassin lunged.
I caught the flash of a blade and rolled, using my body as a shield.
Steel raked my side.
Pain exploded.
The bond surged in response—an electric snap of panic and rage and raw power.
Virelya's hands lit with silver flame.
She stood before I could stop her—and unleashed hell.
The first assassin didn't even have time to scream.
The second one tried to retreat—only to find the air around him crystallizing into blades of pure magic.
The third assassin—smarter than the others—threw a vial at us.
It wasn't poison.
It was a severance spell.
A last-ditch magic designed to rip apart emotional bonds by force.
The vial shattered against the ground.
The spell hit.
And the bond between us—
Tore.
I felt it snap inside me, like someone reached into my chest and yanked out my lungs.
Virelya screamed.
Not in pain.
In rage.
The world screamed with her.
A shockwave exploded outward from her body.
The gardens withered instantly—flowers curling into black ash, trees stripped bare.
The sky turned blood-red.
The ground cracked.
And at the center of it all stood Virelya—magic roaring around her, crown of thorns burning bright.
She was beautiful.
Terrifying.
Untouchable.
The villainess they always feared she'd become.
And I—
I was the only thing standing between her and the final collapse.
I forced my body forward, every step a scream of agony.
"Virelya," I croaked.
Her magic snapped toward me like a whip.
It didn't strike.
It hesitated.
She turned—eyes wild, heartbroken—and saw me.
Saw me fighting against a severed bond just to reach her.
Tears streaked her face, burning silver trails against her skin.
"I can't," she gasped. "I can't control it."
"Then don't."
She blinked through the chaos.
"I'm already broken," she said.
"So am I," I said hoarsely. "But I'd rather be broken with you than whole without you."
The curse flared between us.
Even severed, even bleeding, the bond refused to die.
Because it wasn't just magic.
It was choice.
Ours.
I reached her.
Touched her hand.
And the moment I did—
The bond rewove itself.
Stronger.
Deeper.
Unbreakable.
A second explosion tore through the world—but this time, it wasn't destruction.
It was creation.
A new thread. A new prophecy. A new future.
Forged by two souls choosing each other over fate.
When the dust cleared, we stood in the center of the ruins.
Alive.
Together.
And enemies to the entire world.
Because now?
Nothing could separate us.
Not curses.
Not death.
Not even destiny.