Untamed bond

The battlefield glowed red beneath a sky split in two.

Sigils raged in the air. Spells cracked like thunder. Aure moved like smoke and vengeance, a living weapon cloaked in light. Lian's blade danced beside them, each strike a promise, each breath a vow whispered only for one.

They were unstoppable.

But the moment the last silver herald fell, silence came crashing down. And with it the weight.

They ran, hand-in-hand, through the broken woods into the old watchtower what remained of a temple before the Rift tore it apart.

No words.

Just breath. Just blood. Just fire in their veins.

Aure slammed Lian against the stone wall, their body still humming with power. "You nearly died out there."

Lian laughed, low and dangerous. "You'd have burned the realm down for me."

"I still might."

Aure's hands gripped his shirt, tugging it down hard ripping cloth, exposing the glowing mark on his chest. The Ash Bond pulsed wildly.

"You gave up your name for me," they whispered.

"I'd give more."

"No more talking."

Their mouths collided feral, desperate, full of years lost, nights stolen, lives shattered. This wasn't gentle. This wasn't soft.

It was claiming.

Aure pushed him down, straddling him like they were built to fit there. Lian's fingers traced his lovers spine like a spell, mapping every curve, every scar they had once fought to hide.

"Still mine?" Aure murmured against his throat.

"Always."

They kissed again deeper this time, slow like honey and death. Lian's hands tangled in his lover's mist-blue hair, pulling just hard enough to make him gasp. Clothes fell away like lies between them.

They moved in rhythm not born of flesh but of soul.

The world outside still burned. But in that tower, time fractured.

Every thrust, every cry, every sacred tremble stitched the bond tighter. Aure arched into him, hands glowing, marks flaring. Lian held him like prayer and possession.

When they came, it wasn't silent.

It was thunder.

The Ash Bond seared their skin—twin sigils now entwined across their chests. Magic burst from their bodies, carving symbols into the very walls.

This was not lust.

This was war dressed in want.

And it remade them.

After that,Aure lay curled in his lover's arms, heartbeat echoing in his bones.

"Now," Lian whispered, brushing his lips against Aure's lips, "let the world come for us."

"They can try," Aure smirked. "But we've already claimed each other."