The Feast Hall isn't real.
I know it the second we step inside.
The air is too thick, heavy with the sweet, cloying scent of rotting fruit and something older, something that doesn't belong in this world or mine. The chandeliers drip with melted way, shadows clinging to the edges of the room like predators waiting for the lights to go out.
Freyr sits at the head of the long, twisting table, draped in silver and black, his smile stretched too wide, too perfect.
"Sarah," he purrs, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "You look exhausted. Come, rest. You've earned it."
Justin's hand brushes my waist, a silent warning.
I ignore it.
I step forward—--but not toward Freyr.
I stand at the edge of the table, staring at the plates overflowing with things that shimmer like memories.
Things I know aren't real.
Freyr leans in, close enough I feel the cold breath of his words against my ear.
"Does it hurt yet?" His voice slides under my skin like silk dipped in venom. "Carrying him like a weight you never asked for?"
I swallow hard, my grip tightening around the pendant that barely glows now.
"He's not your anchor, Sarah." Freyr whispers. "You never needed one."
Justin steps between us then, his voice tight. "Back. Off."
But Freyr doesn't even look at him.
He looks at me.
"Imagine it, Sarah," he says softly. "A life without the bond. Without the shadows. Without him."
He waves a hand—--and the room flickers.
I see it.
A vision of me standing in the sunlight, free, powerful, untethered.
Justin isn't there.
And I don't miss him.
Or at least, that's what the vision wants me to believe.
But something inside me twists hard enough to hurt.
Because the emptiness in that vision of me's eyes tells the real story.
Justin's hand closes around mine.
Grounding me.
Burning me.
I don't pull away this time.
Freyr's smile falters, just for a breath.
"Your choice," he says, tone brittle beneath the silk.
But we both hear the crack in it.
I tear my gaze away from the false vision, stepping back into the heavy, suffocating dark beside Justin.
The bond pulses between us—-hot, invasive, blurring into something I can't name.
I should let go.
But I don't.
The room twists the moment the doors close behind us.
The air thickens, pressing hard into my lungs, the walls warping until they're nothing but shadow and heat, wrapping around us like a cage.
There's no door.
No path forward.
Only the bond.
It throbs between us now—-louder, sharper, almost violent in its pull.
Justin stands too close.
Or maybe I'm the one standing too close.
I can't tell anymore.
The room breathes with us, forcing us into the center, forcing us to face each other. I hate it. I hate how much I feel for him now—-the way his breath brushes my skin, the way the heat of him invades my space, the way the bond burns hotter the longer I try to pretend I don't feel it.
"I think…." Justin starts, voice low, rough. "I think it wants us to open the bond."
I shake my head, panic rising like bile in my throat. "No."
He takes a step closer.
I take a step back.
But the bond doesn't let me go far.
It snaps me back, the pull harsh, breath-stealing, yanking me into him until there's no space left between us.
He catches my waist, holding me steady, his touch burning through the thin shield I've been hiding behind.
"You're shaking," he says softly.
I hate that he's right.
I hate that I'm letting him see it.
But I can't pull away.
Not this time.
The room ripples, the bond flaring—-and suddenly we're drowning in a memory.
The night we first met.
But it's twisted now.
Brighter. Softer. Too close. Too much.
I see his face the way I refused to see it then—-the shadows under his eyes, the hesitation in his mile, the way his gaze lingered on me like I was something he couldn't name.
And he sees me.
The fear. The fury. The aching loneliness.
We stand frozen in it, the bond pulsing between us like a living thing.
"I didn't know how to be around you," he whispers, breath hot against my skin. "I still don't…."
I should shove him away.
But I don't.
Because I feel it now—-how easy it would be to fall into him, to let the bond devour the space between us, to give in to the part of me that wants him to be the only thing I feel in this place.
His forehead presses to mine.
Our breath tangles.
And for one heartbeat….I lean in.
Close enough to taste the words we never say.
Close enough that I almost let it happen.
But I pull back at the last second, gasping like I've been drowning.
The bond snaps, raw and violent, leaving us both shaking.
Justin curses under his breath, turning away, running a hand through his hair like he's trying to shake the moment off.
But he can't.
Neither can I.
The room opens ahead of us.
But the space between us has never felt smaller.
Or more dangerous.
*********
Freyr's POV
They should have broken in that room.
The bond should have snapped under the weight of their fear, their guilt, their stubborn, fragile pride.
But they didn't.
They cling to each other.
Like fools.
Like pawns who forgot who holds the board.
I watch from the shadows, unseen, the walls of Nox trembling with my irritation. My reflection in the dark glass, splintering into jagged edges, but I don't look away.
I study them.
Sarah shaking.
Justin burning.
Both of them clinging to a tether that refuses to tear, no matter how deep Nox cuts, no matter how much poison I slip between them,
I tighten my grip on the edge of the hollow mirror, cracks spreading under my fingers.
This was never supposed to be difficult.
I've dealt with bonds before.
But this one…..
This one is old.
Older than Sarah.
Older than Justin.
Twisting into something I refuse to name.
I snarl under my breath, the sound swallowed by Nox's restless hum.
The fates are meddling.
Again.
And if I don't force her to cut the thread herself, I'll never win.
No matter how much I feed her fear.
She has to be the one to sever it.
I smile thin and sharp into the dark, letting Nox twist tighter around them, whispering promises it never intends to keep.
If the bond won't break...
Then let her bleed for it.