The morning smelled of sterility.And cold. Dry, medical, dead cold of wet dust.

  I opened my eyes and saw nothing.Darkness.But it wasn't the darkness of a bedroom. It was the darkness inside the skull. My optic nerves were burned out. That night I passed so much Entropy through myself that my body simply shut down. I fell into a coma for three days.

  I tried to move.

  It felt as if a steamroller had run over me. Then backed up. And ran over me again.

  There were no muscles. Instead of them there was cotton soaked in broken glass. The bones ached with a dull, tooth-like pain, twisting the joints.

  "Don't get up."

  Adrian's voice sounded from the right. Close. Very close.

  I felt a touch on my forehead. Cool. Damp. A wet towel.

  "Am I... blind?" my voice sounded like the grinding of rusty hinges. My throat was raw. My tongue was swollen.

  "Temporarily," he answered calmly. "Your eyes... do you remember how they started to fade in the hall when you tried to reach Demian? Entropy is a price, Anya. It started burning out your optic nerves back then, in the process, and the coma merely finished the process. There was no panic in his voice, only exhaustion. "Regeneration is already underway. In an hour, your vision will recover completely. I hope…"

  I exhaled. The pain in my chest responded with a sharp prick.

  "Martha..."

  "In stasis. Cain moved her body to the cryo-block as soon as Demian cleared out and you lost consciousness. She is forever safe now, Anya. In the cryo-chamber, just as I promised. When it's all over, we will arrange a real funeral for her. With honors. She deserves it."

  Silence.

  It was no longer cozy. Yesterday's silence was filled with our shared hunger, animal and fierce. Today's silence was heavy as a tombstone. We lay under it together. Survivors. Lovers?!

  "What time is it?" I asked, trying to feel for his hand.

  My fingers trembled. I bumped into something warm and solid. His forearm.

  "The third day. The 15th. You were in a coma for three days."

  "I need to get up."

  "You need to lie down. I poured two liters of restorative cocktail into you through an IV while you slept. But your reserve is still at zero. You are empty, Anya. If you stand up now, you will fall."

  "The trial..." I remembered. "You demanded the trial for the next morning. Are we late?"

  "I moved it," he replied harshly. "I told Morozov that we wouldn't show up until the main witness could speak. They raged, threatened, but agreed to wait. The hearing is today. At ten."

  "If I don't get up, they will win."

  I squeezed his hand. Weakly. Like a child.

  "Help me."

  He didn't argue. Caught me under the back, helping me sit up. My head spun, but the nutrient compound, which he had started pouring into me through the IV while asleep, had already started to act.

  "First food," Adrian nodded to Martha... no, not Martha. A young maid huddled by the door, pale from fear. "Bring broth. Quickly."

  Ten minutes later I was already slowly swallowing hot, salty liquid. The broth seemed like liquid gold, returning the sense of taste and warmth to my empty body. Every gulp echoed with a tingling in my fingers. Nerve endings came alive, and although muscles still ached, I no longer felt like a rag doll.

  "Enough," Adrian took the cup when I drank half. "Your stomach is not ready for a feast yet."

  He frowned, looking at my pale face, and pressed his palm to my stomach, right over the thin silk.

  "Wait. Before the stimulant speeds up your heart, we need to make sure you won't bleed out inside. Victor left a healing compound, but without my stabilization, it's just water."

  I cried out — his palm was icy, but a second later a sensation of sticky, viscous warmth spread through the body. I felt his Darkness magic seeping through the skin, finding damaged vessels and "gluing" them together, cauterizing microscopic tears with an invisible black flame. It was painful — sharp flashes, as if red-hot needles were stuck inside, forcing me to arch on the sheets.

  "Done," he exhaled after a minute, removing his hand. Sweat rolled in hailstones down his face. "Sealing complete. The seams are not perfect, but they will withstand a rise in blood pressure. Now — the stimulant. And we'll go."

  I heard his sigh. Heavy, ragged. The rustle of clothes. The creak of the bed.

  Strong hands caught me, lifting me. My head spun so much that I felt sick. The world before my sightless eyes spun like a mad carousel.

  "Drink."

  Something cold was brought to my lips. Glass. A sharp smell of herbs, alcohol and something else metallic. Blood?

  "It's a stimulant," he explained, answering my unspoken question. "A mixture of alchemy and... my blood. A sip. Your heart won't withstand more."

  I took a sip.

  The liquid scorched my throat with fire. It fell into my stomach as red-hot lead and instantly exploded.

  A heartbeat. Another one. Strong. Hollow. Thump-THUMP. Thump-THUMP.

  Blood ran through my veins faster. The cold in my bones started to retreat, replaced by a feverish heat. The darkness in my eyes didn't disappear immediately — it started to slowly fade, replaced by a murky, gray haze, through which outlines of the room appeared in jerks. Black-and-white… The contours of the furniture trembled, doubled, but gradually gained density.

  I saw him. First as a dark, majestic silhouette, then — in details.

  Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only black trousers. His torso was bandaged. A dark spot showed through the snow-white bandages on his side.

  "You're wounded?" I reached for the bandage. The spot was too bright, too fresh. This cut — the work of the assassin who still managed to graze him before Adrian's "Tear" blocked the transition.

  "Exhaustion. I gave you too much power. I spent three hours restoring your nervous system fiber by fiber, Anya. I poured everything I had into you. The remnants of the reserve. To the drop. So that today you could not just breathe, but stand."

  A scratch from annihilation. It sounded like "a slight burn from a nuclear explosion". But under his eyes lay deep shadows, and his skin seemed transparent. He was holding on by pure willpower.

  "We look like two zombies," I chuckled, looking at my hands. They were still gray, with translucent veins, but no longer transparent.

  "We look like victors who walked through hell and returned to burn down heaven," he said harshly. And everyone who stands in our way!

  He didn't let go of my hand. His fingers were cold, but firm.

  "Anya," his voice became quieter. "Yesterday you... you crossed a line. You killed. Not in combat. Not in self-defense. You annihilated a person out of pure hatred."

  "He killed Martha."

  "Yes. But you didn't just kill him. You wiped him from reality. You turned him into nothing. This is... this is what gods do. Or demons."

  I looked into his eyes. Violet. Bottomless.

  "Do you regret creating a monster?"

  He slowly shook his head.

  "No. I regret that I couldn't protect you from the need to become one."

  His hand rose to my face. Fingers touched the cheek. Gently. So gently that my breath caught.

  "You are not a monster, Anya. You are... you are mine."

  The words hung in the air.

  I should have been outraged. I should have said that I belong to no one.

  But instead I leaned toward him.

  Our lips met.

  It wasn't a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of desperation. Two people who walked through hell and found each other on the other side.

  His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck, ignoring the pain in my muscles.

  We kissed with the desperation of the doomed. So, as if trying to inhale each other, dissolve, hide inside ourselves, so that no one could ever take us away. Tomorrow might not come for us.

  Adrian broke away first. His breathing was ragged.

  "Anya..." he interrupted the kiss, his breathing ragged. He pressed his forehead to mine. "If we continue physically... your heart will not withstand. The channels are exhausted, the vessels are barely holding on my magic."

  "Then give me your magic," I whispered. "Not body. Soul. I need Convergence, Adrian. The true one."

  He froze. A dark fire flared in his eyes.

  "Do you understand what you are going for? It's the Ritual of Convergence. Ancient magic of Blood and Shadow, forbidden three hundred years ago. It is irreversible. If we converge in resonance — there will be no way back. We will become a True Pair. A single essence in two bodies."

  "I believe you," I covered his hand with mine. "Do it."

  He closed his eyes. I felt his palms, lying on my shoulders, become red-hot.

  It wasn't sex. It was much deeper and more painful.

  I felt his Shadow piercing my skin, penetrating the deepest layers of consciousness. We merged in a magical stream. It was as if two dying stars collided in the void, acquiring a shared gravity. Adrian was literally holding my pulse with his, pumping his life force into my torn channels. The pain disappeared, replaced by the humming power of the Abyss.

  We became One.

  I saw his thoughts — snippets of memory, icy determination, hidden terror for my life. He saw mine — ashes of the fire, the taste of blood on the lips, and the newfound, steel will for revenge.

  When the resonance subsided, we lay in silence. Martha was in the cryo-chamber — a temporary haven until we won the right to normal funerals. Lucifer howled in the backyard, recovering from the assassin's poison, and this sound only underscored our loneliness.I was a puppet in the hands of the Prince, but a puppet who for the first time in many days felt alive thanks to this nourishment.I felt our auras intertwining. Invisible threads — black and violet — pierced the space of the room. The walls trembled. The mirror became covered in a web of cracks. The air became dense, like water."Look at me," he rasped, without breaking eye contact. His eyes were two black holes. "Don't close up. Let me in. Completely."I opened the shields. Pulled off the last safeties.Strike.An energy pulse went along the spine, arching me into a bow. It wasn't pain. It was something beyond pain. As if I was taken apart into atoms and reassembled, but now... correctly.His reserve became mine. My hunger became his hunger.We ceased being two different creatures. The boundary between "I" and "He" erased. We became a unified system. A closed circuit, in which energy circulated endlessly, without losing a joule.The resonance reached its peak.The room filled with a hum. Shadows came alive, spinning around the bed in a mad dance. Plaster poured from the ceiling.I screamed, but didn't hear my voice. I only heard the roar of the Abyss in my ears.And in the center of this storm, in the epicenter of Chaos, a new structure was born.A knot. A seal. An oath, burned not on skin, but on the very essence of existence.A flash.Blindingly black.It burned the air in the lungs. Stopped time.And when it started again, the world changed.The bond.It became tangible. Like a steel cable connecting our cores. I felt his heartbeat like my own. Felt the current of his blood.True Pair.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I collapsed on him, gasping. He hugged me, pressing me to his chest.

  We lay in silence.

  "What was that?" I whispered.

  "A seal," he answered hoarsely. "We sealed the bond. Now you are not just my Anchor. You are my True Pair. The only one in a million."

  "What does it mean?"

  "It means that if you die, I will die after you. If I die, you will follow me. We are bound. Forever."

  I should have been scared. I should have been outraged.

  But instead I smiled.

  "Good."

  He looked at me. Surprised.

  "Good?"

  "Good," I repeated. "I don't want to live in a world where you aren't. So... good."

  He pulled me closer. Kissed me on the top of the head.

  "Welcome to hell, my queen."

  "Welcome to heaven, my demon."

  ***

  We lay in bed for another hour. Just lay. Intertwined. Silent.

  I listened to his heartbeat. Even. Strong. It beat in time with mine. Synchronously. Like a single organism.

  "Tell me about her," I whispered. "About Martha."

  Adrian sighed. His hand glided over my hair.

  "She came to us when I was ten years old. My father hired her after mother's death. He needed a housekeeper. Someone who would watch the house while he fought."

  He grew silent. I felt his muscles tense.

  "Martha was the only warm person in this cold house. She baked cookies for me. Sewed up wounds after training. Read fairy tales at night when father left for months."

  His voice became quieter.

  "She was a mother to me. More than my real mother, whom I barely remember."

  I squeezed his hand.

  "She loved you."

  "Yes. And I failed her. I used her as bait, without wanting to myself. I knew Eliza would send a killer. I waited for him. I left a loophole in the defenses to catch him at the entrance.But they outplayed me.They hit the outer perimeter. Sabotage at the substation. I left to check the alarm... and left the house unattended for ten minutes.That was enough.

  His voice broke.

  "I thought I would be in time. That I would intercept him before he reached the living quarters. But I was wrong. He was faster. And Martha... she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  I turned to him. Looked into his eyes.

  "It's not your fault."

  "Mine," he said harshly. "I'm the commander. I planned the operation. I bear responsibility for every casualty."

  "Then it's my fault too," I said. "Because I'm the one because of whom this war started. If I hadn't destroyed the crystal at the auction, Eliza wouldn't have sent an assassin."

  He shook his head.

  "No. Eliza would have sent an assassin anyway. Sooner or later. The auction just accelerated events."

  He pulled me closer.

  "Martha didn't die for nothing. Her death gave us a reason. Now the Council has evidence. 'Phoenix Sting'. A rare weapon, banned from circulation outside the Fire Clan. A direct link to Eliza."

  "But they didn't arrest her."

  "Not yet. But they will be forced to. When we present all the evidence. When we prove that she broke the Pact of Seven."

  He chuckled. Predatorily.

  "Martha will get justice. I promise. Posthumously…"

  Adrian got up from the bed and turned to me.

  "We have two hours. We need to prepare."

  He led me into the study. On the table lay documents. Scrolls. Artifacts.

  "This is evidence," he said, pointing to the dagger. "That same asymmetrical blade. 'Phoenix Sting'. Engraving 'Fire Guard, Squad 7'. Direct link to Eliza."

  He unrolled a scroll.

  "These are witness testimonies. Three servants saw the assassin enter through the kitchen. Two guards confirm that the defenses were disabled from the outside. Magical expertise showed traces of Fire magic on the disabled runes."

  He looked at me.

  I nodded.

  "What should I say?"

  "The truth. But not all of it. Say that the assassin attacked you. That you defended yourself. That you used Entropy to stop him. Don't mention Annihilation. Don't mention the Light. Only Entropy."

  He took me by the shoulders.

  "They will try to break you. Morozov will press. Eliza will scream. Voronov will be silent and watch. But you must hold on. Don't break. Don't show weakness."

  "And if they pass a sentence?"

  "Then we will leave. Through a portal. I already prepared everything."

  He kissed me. Shortly. Harshly.

  "But it won't come to that. Because we have a trump card."

  He took another scroll from the desk drawer. Unrolled it.

  I read.

  ```MEDICAL REPORT(Certified by the Seal of Truth of the independent healer of the Academy, Amodeus Tsetronsky)

  Patient: Martha Ivanovna, housekeeper of the Shadow Clan residence"Cause of death: Penetrating wound to the larynx by an atypical cold weapon with destruction of cervical vertebrae," Adrian read the document. "Death occurred instantly from toxic shock and severance of the spinal cord. Traces of 'Black Widow' poison were found on the dagger. Strain VIII, production of the secret laboratories of the Fire ones. Moreover," he turned to Morozov, "the energetic signature of the poison retained the fresh resonance of the owner's aura. Any strong mentalist will confirm: the dagger was not stolen. It was handed to the killer personally by the hand of Eliza Ogneva shortly before the attack.

  This report is impossible to dispute in court, Anya. The Seal of Truth is applied in the presence of three magisters. The Fire ones will have nothing to counter with.```

  I looked at Adrian.

  "This... this is proof."

  "Yes. Irrefutable. Demian saw the dagger, he knows it's 'Fire Guard'. But he doesn't know the main thing.He chuckled."He thinks that we will bring only a piece of iron to court, from which Eliza will easily clear herself, stating it was stolen. But this report links the poison to her personal laboratory. Victor found a unique isotopic marker, and his friend the Academy healer Amodeus confirmed it with documents. It's a checkmate.

  He rolled up the scroll.

  "Today the Council will choose. Either they punish Eliza. Or they become her accomplices. And then... then we will burn them all."

  ***

  I was located in front of the mirror, examining my reflection.I was wearing a new outfit — not a modest dress of a victim, but a challenge. A long, floor-length dress of heavy blood-red silk that shimmered like liquid fire. "Queen of Ash". The corset tightly gripped the waist, and a deep cut on the back opened the shoulder blades, making me vulnerable and dangerous at the same time. On the shoulders lay a cape of black fur, fastened with a fibula with the crest of the Shadow Clan.The bodice held on thin straps, leaving the shoulders open. There were no jewelry on the neck.Only an invisible amulet."You no longer need crutches in the form of stones," Adrian said quietly, standing behind my back. In the mirror our reflections merged: his black shirt and my scarlet silhouette. Blood and Darkness.He held in his hands not a pendant, but a tiny vial with black, thick essence. "Tear of the Abyss" — a class six artifact, deprived of a physical shell."That amulet flew into dust when the Sting hit the shield," he explained, touching his finger to my collarbone. "But this protection will be a part of you. Forever. It is tied to our True Pair bond."He brought the vial to my skin. A black drop fell down and, touching the skin, didn't flow down, but began to absorb, burning with cold. At the point of contact, right in the hollow between the collarbones, a dark, pulsing pattern blossomed, resembling a crown of thorns."It absorbs any hostile magic. And processes it into pure energy for you. Now the protection is sewn into your essence. No one can take it away while you breathe."I touched the stone with my fingertips. It vibrated quietly. A low, humming sound that only I heard."Thank you."

  He turned me to him. Took me by the chin.

  "Anya. Whatever happens today, remember: you are not alone. I will be near. Always."

  I nodded.

  "I know."

  The next hours passed in feverish preparation.

  Adrian summoned Victor. The healer arrived in half an hour, with a suitcase packed with elixirs and artifacts.

  "You both look like corpses," he stated, examining us. "Depletion of magical channels. Tissue necrosis. Internal hemorrhages. You should be lying in intensive care, not getting ready for court."

  "There's no time," Adrian cut off. "Do something. We need to hold out for three hours."

  Victor sighed. Took out a syringe with bright red liquid.

  "This is a class A stimulant. Military. Banned for civilian use. It will get you on your feet for four hours. Then you will collapse. And sleep for two days."

  "It will do."

  Victor froze, holding the syringe ready. His gaze was heavy, professionally cold."You already took the Prince's blood, Anya. An alchemical stimulant of the highest order. If I inject this too, your heart might not withstand the load. The pulse is already off the charts. Do you understand the risk?""I have no choice, Victor," I exhaled, offering my shoulder. "I won't crawl to the meeting hall on sheer stubbornness. Do it."The doctor nodded with noticeable reluctance and gave me the injection. Then Adrian.

  The effect was instantaneous.

  The pain retreated. The fatigue disappeared. I felt a surge of strength. Artificial. Chemical. But effective.

  "Thank you, Victor."

  "Don't thank me. This is poison. You are burning your reserves. After this you will need a week to recover."

  He packed the suitcase.

  "Good luck. You will need it."

  It's time. The car is waiting.

  We went downstairs. A limousine waited at the entrance. Armored. Black as night.

  Cain opened the door. We got inside.

  The limousine moved. The city floated unhurriedly past the windows. Gray buildings. Empty streets. Rare passersby who stopped and looked after us.

  They knew. The whole city knew. The Prince of Shadows and his "monster" are going to court.

  Adrian took my hand. Squeezed.

  "Don't be afraid."

  "I'm not afraid," I answered. "I'm angry."

  He chuckled.

  "Excellent. Anger is fuel. Use it."

  ***

  The Council Citadel greeted us with silence.

  There was no crowd. Journalists were not there. Only guards. Dozens of guards. They lined up along the entrance, forming a corridor.

  We walked through this corridor. Adrian in front. I nearby.

  No one spoke. Only looked. Evaluating. Warily.

  At the entrance to the Council Hall I saw Demian. He shifted from foot to foot surrounded by his "Hawks", pale, with a bandaged arm — the very one Adrian stepped on in the hall. His gaze darted, he was clearly going to shout something when we drew level with him.  In his eyes there was no longer that puppy adoration with which he looked at me at the auction. Only fear and grafted, trained hatred. Eliza did a good job on him these days, turning him into an obedient weapon of the Fire Clan.

  Adrian didn't slow his step. He simply leaned toward Demian for a second, and I heard his hissing whisper, from which the hair on the back of my own neck stirred:

  "If you open your mouth and try to cover for Eliza, Voronov... if even one word sounds about this dagger being an 'accident'... I swear: tomorrow your Kindred will cease to exist. I won't just kill you. I will erase the memory of you from the chronicles of Eridia. Your only role today is to be silent and confirm that you recognize the mark of her personal armorer. Nod if your life is dear to you."

  Demian froze. His Adam's apple jerked. He slowly, almost imperceptibly nodded, lowering his eyes to the floor. Adrian grunted in satisfaction and pulled me further.

  At the entrance to the Council Hall Morozov met us. Personally.

  "Prince Chernov. Lady Belskaya. Come in. The Council is waiting."

  His voice was even. But I saw tension in his eyes.

  We went in.

  The hall was full. All seven Heads on thrones. Plus observers in the stands. Hundreds of eyes fixed on us.

  Morozov took his place in the center. Struck with his staff.

  "The meeting of the Council of Seven is declared open. Agenda: the incident in the Shadow Clan residence. The killing of an assassin. The use of forbidden magic."

  He looked at us. I felt cold sweat running down my back. Victor's stimulant gave strength to the muscles, but it couldn't fool the nervous system. In my ears hummed, and in my mouth clearly felt the metallic taste of blood. I clenched my fists so that my nails dug into my palms — only this sharp pain kept me from collapsing right here, under the crosshairs of hundreds of eyes.  And then I felt it.  Cold on the left. Adrian's shadow. It wasn't just lying on the floor. It snaked up my legs, rose higher, wrapping my waist with an invisible but tangible corset. Adrian was holding me. Not with his hand — with his will. I felt his energy pouring into me in jolts, synchronizing with my arrhythmic pulse, forcing the heart to beat. Our new souls bond worked…  If he had let go of me for even a second, I would have died right here, on the mosaic floor of the Council Hall. But he held.

  "Prince Chernov. Explain what happened three days ago in your residence."

  Adrian stepped forward.

  "Three days ago, at 3:00 am, an assassin penetrated the Obsidian Palace. He disabled the defenses of Sector 4, penetrated through the kitchen and killed the housekeeper Martha Ivanovna. Then he attempted to penetrate the living quarters. Lady Belskaya discovered him and used magic of self-defense. The assassin was destroyed.

  "Destroyed," Morozov repeated. "Not arrested. Not neutralized. Destroyed. Annihilated. Not even ash remained of him."

  "It was self-defense."

  "Self-defense does not require the complete destruction of the opponent," Eliza intervened. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a fanatical light. "It was an execution. She could have neutralized him. But she chose annihilation to hide the evidence and intimidate the Council! This is a demonstration of force, not defense!"

  Adrian turned to her.

  "The assassin was armed with a Dagger-Suppressor M-7. A forbidden weapon that is issued only to the personal guard of the Clan Heads. Where does a 'random' killer get such a weapon, Lady Ogneva?"

  Eliza paled.

  "I... I don't know what you are talking about."

  "You don't know?" Adrian chuckled predatorily. He took out the dagger and with a swing drove it into the wooden table in front of Morozov. The blade gleamed ominously. Following it, a scroll with a heavy seal lay on the table. "We have evidence, Lady Ogneva. A medical report with the unique energetic signature of your poison."

  Eliza paled, but lifted her chin.

  "A forgery! You bribed the healers!"

  "The Seal of Truth is impossible to forge," Adrian cut off coldly. He turned to Morozov. "The Council must immediately authorize the arrest of the Head of the Fire Clan for violating the Pact of Seven and using combat magic against civilians. We demand a Court of Honor. Right now. Retribution by blood."

  Morozov shifted his gaze from the scroll to Eliza. His old, wrinkled face twitched. The air in the hall became electrified. The Heads of other Clans whispered tensely.

  "This is an unprecedented accusation, Prince," Morozov said slowly, examining the documents. "But if the signatures are genuine..."

  "They are genuine," Adrian's voice thundered under the vaults of the hall. "And you know it."

  In the hall hung a heavy, suffocating silence.

  Morozov rose heavily. He looked at Eliza, then at Adrian.

  "The documents will be transferred to the High Inquisition for immediate verification of the authenticity of the Seal of Truth," his voice sounded like the strike of a bell. "If the expertise confirms their legitimacy before sunset, the Fire Clan will be stripped of the right to vote in the Council, and Lady Eliza Ogneva will be taken into custody until the Court of Honor. Until that moment... Eliza Ogneva, you are forbidden to leave the boundaries of the capital under pain of death."

  He struck with his staff. A wave of ancient magic rolled through the hall, certifying the temporary sentence.

  "The meeting is closed."

  We turned around and went to the exit. Eliza looked at our backs, and I felt her primal rage with my skin. But she was silent. She was afraid.

  Adrian squeezed my hand. His palm was feverishly hot from the stimulant. Our countdown went for minutes.

  "We drove her into a corner," he hissed, as soon as we were outside the Citadel doors. "The clock is ticking."

  "And what will she do now?" I asked, trying to breathe evenly. My legs were already starting to buckle.

  "Make a mistake," he answered predatorily. "A beast in a trap always gnaws off its paw."