Sundered by Fate (Shadowbound #3)

Chapter 8

Eight

A t least the demons were honest about their depravity.

Aric's eyes lingered on the polished mahogany paneling, the plush emerald carpets, the garish oil paintings crowding the walls of his assigned suite. He'd imagined he'd feel more at home surrounded by civilization's luxuries once more. But now he couldn't help comparing the decor to the pointed obsidian architecture of Malekith's domain—the unvarnished indulgence the demon lords wore so unapologetically.

It felt obscene now, feigning politeness while masking so much turmoil.

He'd faced his trials with Malekith, brimming with righteous rage and faith in his order. But he couldn't stand these smooth-tongued games—manipulations and subterfuge spinning out in silk-gloved hands. At least among the demons, the game was obvious from the start.

With a creak, he slipped out onto the narrow balcony overlooking a sea of rooftops. He sighed as a cool evening breeze feathered over him, soothing against his skin. The cityscape unfolded beyond, fractured by shafts of dying light: Astaria's spires and domes painted in violet hues.

Memories swept through him—the human realm he'd fought for suddenly so distant and foreign.

Now nothing more than shadows through gauze.

It had almost felt like a home to Aric, once.

Not that Aric had ever had a true conception of that word. The Silver Tower was not an orphanage, but his parents must have believed so, or at least hoped it, when they dumped him on the Tower's doorstep. Olaya told Aric often how hard she fought to keep him in the Tower in those days rather than letting the High Mages shuffle him off to one of the city's overworked, crowded orphanages; how she swore she could sense his potential gift for magic even as a young child. But she wasn't his mother, nor did she ever intend to be, and often, Aric was left to his own devices, exploring the Tower, and then the greater grounds around the Tower and the academies, and then the city of Astaria at large.

And yet becoming a proper apprentice, once he was of age, had made it fresh all over again. Seeing things through the eyes not just of a magic-touched boy, but of a mage . How limitless it all had seemed! How breathtaking! The city bubbled and brimmed with spells and their potential. Magic just waiting to be grasped.

Aric and his fellow apprentices had always been ready to grasp it. Grasp first, and worry about the aftereffects later.

He remembered how the musty scent of parchment filled the air as Aric and Davin pored over ancient tomes in the Silver Tower library late one night. Soft light from magical lamps cast a gentle glow over their study, illuminating rows upon rows of scrolls and bound volumes stretching into shadowed alcoves.

"Demon conjuration rituals," Aric mused, brushing his sandy hair back as he leaned closer to Davin. "I'd always heard they were mostly theoretical. Didn't know we had an entire wing on it. I'm surprised the Pureblades haven't burned it."

"I'm sure it's of enough historical significance," Davin replied with a grin, his green eyes sparkling in the lamplight. "Secret archives and all that. But only for trusted apprentices." He tapped Aric's shoulder, sending a spark of static through him. "Guess that means we're doing something right."

The Tower's knowledge wasn't doled out without cause—but Davin had a way of pulling favors.

Aric offered a tight smile, willing himself not to notice the soft curve of Davin's lips as he spoke, or how the red curls fell across his forehead. Davin had that way about him—drawing people in, wrapping them around his little finger without meaning to.

At least, Aric was almost sure it was unintentional.

They bent together over a faded grimoire, the close space between them humming with potential. Aric could smell the faint spice of Davin's aftershave—clove and cedar, like autumn—and feel the heat of his skin where their arms brushed.

If he leaned in just a little closer . . .

He shook off the thought. Now wasn't the time to get distracted, not when they'd finally found what they'd been searching for—an entry on demonic wards from centuries ago. But while he read through it, a part of him couldn't help stealing glances at Davin, wondering if his cheeks were flushed from the library's stifling warmth or something else entirely.

"Looks like this is what we needed," Davin said at last, flashing Aric one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Thanks for staying late with me."

Aric swallowed hard, returning the smile despite himself. "Anytime."

As they packed up their things and headed for the Tower's sleeping quarters, Aric felt like he was walking on air, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. Whatever happened next, at least they'd have this moment—them and the stars above Astaria that night.

Another day, another memory, indelibly wound around the Silver Tower and through Astaria's streets.

A cool autumn breeze swept through the Silver Tower's training yard, rustling the leaves of the ancient oak tree that stood sentinel at one corner. Aric and Davin faced each other in the center of the yard, their staves held at the ready. The other apprentices had long since left, the fading light of dusk casting a warm glow over the courtyard.

"Ready, Solarian?" Davin called, his voice a playful lilt that sent a shiver coursing through Aric.

"Try not to cry when I win this time, Lyantros." Aric smirked, feeling a burst of energy race through him as he met Davin's emerald eyes.

In an instant, they moved as one, their staves spinning and striking in perfect harmony. Sparks flew from the tips as they channeled their magic into each blow—Aric's golden flames clashing with Davin's sapphire currents in a dazzling display. Their bodies moved in tandem, an unspoken rhythm guiding their steps.

With a swift twist, Davin slipped past Aric's guard and brought his staff down in an arc of lightning. But Aric was ready, raising his own staff to intercept and forcing the spell into the ground with a shower of sparks.

"Not bad," Davin said with a grin as he pivoted away. "You've been practicing."

"I had to do something to catch up to you." Aric lunged forward, summoning his flames to wreath his staff. But as soon as he moved, he knew he'd overcommitted.

Davin stepped aside with a fluid grace, then brought his staff around to catch Aric on the side. "Gotcha."

Aric staggered, but quickly righted himself, flames extinguished. "Again."

They continued their dance, magical power crackling between them like a live wire. Each spell parried or redirected only served to spur them on further, pushing themselves to greater feats of control and precision.

In those moments, nothing else existed but the two of them—their breaths mingling in the cool air, their shared magic weaving an unbreakable bond around them. They moved in perfect synchronicity, each action complementing the other in an effortless harmony.

Aric caught Davin's eye and saw his own feelings reflected back—a fierce pride in their abilities, tempered by something softer and deeper that made his heart clench.

But even as they dueled with all their might, something lingered unspoken between them—a promise of all they could be, together. An understanding that their bond ran deeper than any magic either could wield alone.

At last they drew apart, both breathing hard and smiling despite themselves. No winner declared—only an unspoken understanding that this was just the beginning for them.

And for one brief moment before duty called them away once more, it felt like enough.

The soft tread of footsteps on stone pulled Aric from his reverie. He turned to find Davin joining him on the balcony, the other man's presence both a comfort and a reminder of everything that had changed.

"Hey, you," Davin said, leaning against the railing beside him.

"Evening." Aric forced a smile, his muscles straining behind it. "Didn't want to go to the court dinner?"

Davin shrugged, his shoulder brushing against Aric's. "Too much on my mind. And you?"

"The usual." Aric looked out over the city, the lights blurring in his vision. "Just trying to process everything."

They stood in silence for a long moment, shoulders almost touching. The air between them felt charged, heavy with all the things they weren't saying.

Aric had moved on from Davin, from whatever feelings they'd once shared were buried under the ashes of their broken friendship that had never been given the air to stoke into anything more. But now, standing so close to him, all those old memories came rushing back—the late-night study sessions in the Silver Tower library, the stolen glances and shared laughter, the way he'd once wondered if Davin's skin might set his own alight.

He'd known Davin felt something for him then, too. It had frightened Aric then.

And now? Aric asked himself.

And now . . . they felt like memories that belonged to someone else.

Davin broke the silence first, his voice soft but laden with emotion. "Aric . . . about the demon realm. About what happened to you there."

Aric tensed, the golden fire within him flaring in response. "What about it?"

"I know it's not something you can just talk about," Davin continued, choosing his words carefully. "And I don't expect you to tell me everything. But if there's anything I can do . . . any way I can help you?—"

"You can't," Aric said, sharper than he intended. "It's something I have to deal with on my own."

Davin’s disappointment stung, to be sure. But how could he explain? How could he tell Davin that his time in the demon realm had changed him, that the things he'd seen and done had marked him indelibly? That the part of himself he'd once kept hidden—the part that had always been drawn to the shadows, to forbidden knowledge—had now fully embraced its new nature?

How could he explain the bond he'd formed with Malekith—a bond forged in blood and magic and a shared sense of being outsiders in their respective worlds? A bond that both thrilled and terrified him, for it threatened to unravel everything he thought he knew about himself and his loyalties?

Davin couldn't understand. No one from his old life could.

Perhaps because if they did, Aric feared they'd see him for the monster he truly was.

Davin stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "I should have paid more attention. Seen what you were involved with. I should have been there when you needed me most." His words caught in his throat. "I'm sorry, Aric. I'm so sorry."

The raw emotion in Davin's voice pierced through Aric's defenses, stirring up feelings he'd tried so hard to bury. He turned to face Davin, their eyes meeting in the twilight. The city seemed to fall away around them, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken bond that had always tethered their souls.

"Davin, I?—"

Aric's breath caught in his throat, the confession he needed to make refusing to come. Because what if he did tell Davin? What if he told him everything—about Malekith, about the blood pact that burned like molten chains around his chest, about the things he'd done and felt? What if he revealed the darkness that had taken root in his heart?

Would Davin still look at him with such softness? Or would he see only the monster he'd become?

Their proximity was intoxicating, Davin's scent wrapping around Aric like a garden at dawn. Part of him longed to close the distance between them—to lose himself in the familiar warmth that once called to him, long ago. But even as he yearned for it, he knew it was a cruel illusion.

There was no going back to the life he once knew.

Aric tore his gaze away, staring out over the city. "I'm not who you think I am," he said, voice rough.

But Davin reached out, his fingers brushing against Aric's chin and forcing him to look back. "You're exactly who I think you are. And nothing will ever change that."

Just as Aric was about to respond, a flood of images and emotions overwhelmed him. Fear. Pain. A desperate warning. A sense of something vast and ancient looming in the shadows.

Beware the shadow in the court.

Aric gasped, stumbling back, and Davin reacted instantly, catching him before he fell. Fleeting, their bodies were pressed close, faces inches apart. Davin's breath gusted against his cheek, hear the thrum of his heart racing in time with Aric's own.

"Davin—" Aric started, but the connection was too intense, too all-consuming. He was being drawn into it, like a current pulling him under.

And then he was drowning in it—visions flashing before his eyes, memories and images colliding with no rhyme or reason. He saw the Silver Tower's gleaming turrets shrouded in darkness, heard the anguished cries of voices he recognized but couldn't place.

The shadow has eyes.

The connection snapped like a taut cord, sending Aric reeling back. But Davin's grip on him remained firm, an anchor in the storm.

"Aric!" Davin's voice was a distant echo through the haze. "Aric, what's happening?"

"It's nothing," Aric insisted, pulling back despite the wrenching pain in his chest. "I just—I'm exhausted. I need to rest."

Davin's brow furrowed with concern, but he released his hold on Aric, stepping back to give him space. "Are you sure? If there's anything?—"

"I promise, it's nothing." Aric made himself grin, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. "I'm just . . . I'm still adjusting to being back, is all."

Davin studied him, as if trying to see past the facade. "All right. But if you need anything—anything at all—come to me, promise?"

"I will." Aric's voice was softer now, the steel gone from it. "Thank you, Davin."

With one last searching look, Davin turned and left, leaving Aric alone with the remnants of the vision still clinging to him like smoke.

Aric lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the canopy overhead. Outside, Astaria slept—an ocean of dreams shifting under the starlit sky. He longed to reach through the veil of sleep and touch the life he'd left behind, but it slipped through his fingers every time.

The sigil on his back pulsed with a dull ache. He ran his fingers over it, wishing he could will it into motion, call out to the bond between them. But no matter how hard he tried, the threads unraveled before he could grasp them.

Malekith's name hung on his lips. His laughter, his piercing stare, the way his voice wrapped around him like smoke. Aric closed his eyes, willing himself to remember every detail, every nuance. But they were fading fast, slipping away into the dark.

He thought of the visions he'd seen—the shadowed figures lurking at the edges of his mind. Were they memories? Portents? Or simply phantoms conjured by his own guilt and fear?

He needed to know Malekith was safe. That their bond remained unbroken, even across the realms that separated them.

"Please," Aric whispered into the night. "Please be all right."

Silence answered him back.

The sigil ached once more, a hollow echo through his bones. No visions or dreams; no sense of their bond pulling tight. Just an empty void where Malekith's presence used to be, and the faint, distant echo of the warnings he'd heard.

Beware the shadows in the court.