The Tower of Silence

The walk back to campus was the most awkward journey of Elara’s life. They had to walk shoulder-to-shoulder. If she drifted to the edge of the path to avoid a puddle, the spectral hook in her chest tugged warningly.

They bypassed the main dorms. "I need to get my stuff," Elara argued.

"We’ll send a porter," Kaelen dismissed. "If we go to the West Wing, we’ll wake the whole dorm. You’re staying in the Tower."

"The Council Tower? I’m not authorized."

"I am the Council," Kaelen said grimly.

The Student Council Tower was a fortress. The elevator required a retinal scan and a drop of blood. When the doors opened to the penthouse, Elara stopped.

It wasn't a dorm room. It was a manor house in the sky. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the foggy campus. The walls were lined with mahogany bookshelves. A fire crackled in a hearth big enough to roast a pig.

"This is ridiculous," Elara muttered, kicking off her muddy boots on a rug that probably cost more than her tuition.

"The bathroom is through there. Don't lock the door," Kaelen said, walking toward a liquor cabinet.

"Excuse me?"

"The door is thick. If you lock it, you’re more than ten feet from the bed. The bond will trigger." He poured himself a glass of amber liquid, his hand shaking slightly. "Leave it ajar."

Elara stood there, fuming. "This is a nightmare. I work alone, Thorne. I sleep alone. I don't do... partners."

Kaelen downed the drink. He turned to look at her, and for the first time, Elara saw the depth of the shadows under his eyes. He looked haunted.

"You think I want this?" Kaelen asked quietly. "I was trying to end it tonight, Vance. The Thorne line has guarded the seals beneath this school for three generations. The Bride-Seeker wasn't random. Someone sent it to break the line. I was going to let it take me so the school would be safe."

Elara went still. "You were committing suicide."

"I was performing a duty."

The air in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees. The fire hissed and died.

Elara felt the hair on her arms stand up. "Thorne."

"I feel it," he said, setting the glass down.

The shadows in the corners of the room elongated. They detached themselves from the walls, forming silhouette figures—tall, faceless, watching.

"The engagement test," Elara realized. "The entity is testing the bond. If we’re fake, it kills us."

A shadow lunged from the ceiling.

Elara didn't have her iron filings. She grabbed a heavy brass lamp from the nearest table. "Get behind me!"

"No," Kaelen snapped. He stepped forward, raising his left hand. The ring on his finger flared with purple light. " *Dispellere!* "

A wave of force erupted from him, blasting the shadow back into the wall. But the effort buckled his knees. He stumbled.

Elara caught him. The contact sent a jolt of warmth through the bond—not pain, but a strange, humming reassurance. The shadows hesitated. They sensed the connection.

"It feeds on fear," Elara whispered, gripping his arm. "And isolation. We have to... we have to act like we belong together."

Kaelen looked at her. He was heavy against her side, smelling of rain and expensive cologne. "Act?"

"Just... don't let go," she said.

The shadows watched them for a long moment, then slowly melted back into normal darkness. The fire flared back to life.

Kaelen exhaled, leaning his forehead against her shoulder for a brief second before pulling away—but not too far.

"You have a good right hook with a lamp," he muttered.

"And you have a martyr complex," Elara retorted, though her heart was pounding. "We’re not dying tonight, Thorne. I don't leave jobs unfinished."