The claiming began with blood.

Not violence—ritual. Kael drew a ceremonial blade across his palm, then offered it to me. I took it with trembling hands and made my own cut, watching crimson well up against my skin.

"Blood to blood," he said quietly, pressing our palms together. The moment our wounds touched, the bond flared white-hot.

I gasped as power flooded through the connection—not depleting us this time, but building. Strengthening. The fractured threads weaving back ...