The Thing Between Spaces
The thing wearing Elara's face smiled at me, and I felt my stomach try to crawl out through my throat.
"Get out of her." My voice didn't shake. Small miracle. "Get out right now."
"Or what, little Empath?" The words came out wrong, like Elara's vocal cords weren't designed for whatever language this thing actually spoke. "You will unmake the bond? Sever the connection?" Her head tilted at an angle that made my spine hurt to look at. "You would kill her to save her. How deliciously human."
Seraphine's sword was already drawn. I hadn't seen her move. "Step away from him."
"The knight speaks." Elara's body stood, joints popping in sequence like a puppet finding its strings. "Tell me, Seraphine val Astoria, does it hurt? Knowing you failed him? Knowing Aldric Thenn burned himself hollow because you were not strong enough to—"
"Do not." Seraphine's blade didn't waver. "Do not speak his name."
The Archmagus was muttering something, hands weaving patterns in the air that left afterimages. Wards, maybe. Or a banishment. His face had gone from pale to gray. "This is not possible. The summoning was controlled. The ritual was precise. There should be no gateway for—"
"For what?" I pushed myself to my feet. The marks on my chest felt like brands. "What is this thing?"
"We are what waits between," the thing said through Elara's mouth. "We are what hungers in the spaces your kind cannot see. And we have been waiting so very long for a door to open." Those not-Elara eyes fixed on me. "Thank you for that, by the way. Your bond is exquisite. So much pain. So much fear. So much delicious, desperate love."
The word hit me like a fist. "I don't—"
"Lie to yourself if you must." Elara's hand reached out, fingers trailing along my jaw. Her touch burned. "But you cannot lie to us. We feel what you feel. We know what you know. Every secret. Every shame. Every pathetic hope you hide from—"
I grabbed her wrist. The bond flared white-hot between us, and for a second—just a second—I felt Elara underneath. Trapped. Screaming. Clawing at the inside of her own skull while something else wore her like a coat.
"Elara." I held on even though it felt like holding molten metal. "I know you're in there. Fight it."
"She cannot hear you." But something flickered in those wrong eyes. "She is ours now. As you will be. As all who touch the bond will—"
The door exploded inward.
Not opened. Exploded. Splinters of wood and twisted metal scattered across the floor as a figure stepped through the smoke. Female. Short. Wearing leather armor that had seen better decades and carrying a sword that glowed with the kind of light that made my eyes water.
"Oh good," she said. "I am not too late for the possession. I would have been quite annoyed."
The Archmagus spun. "Kira? How did you—"
"Your wards are garbage, old man." The woman—Kira—pointed her sword at the thing in Elara's body. "You. Out. Now."
The thing laughed. It sounded like breaking glass. "Another mortal with a shiny stick. How will we ever—"
Kira moved. One second she was by the door. The next she was in front of Elara, sword pressed against her throat. "I said out."
"You would not dare. Kill this vessel and the Empath dies with—"
"Try me." Kira's smile was all teeth. "I have killed things older and meaner than you. I have burned cities. I have ended bloodlines. I have done things that would make your kind weep." The sword pressed harder. A thin line of blood appeared on Elara's neck. "So either you leave, or I carve you out. Your choice."
The thing in Elara's body went very still. "You are bound. We can feel the chains on your soul. You cannot harm us without—"
"Without breaking my contract, yes." Kira's voice went flat. "Funny thing about contracts. They have loopholes. And I am very good at finding them."
For three heartbeats, nothing moved. Then Elara's body convulsed, back arching, mouth opening in a scream that wasn't sound so much as pressure against my eardrums. The red light in her eyes flared, dimmed, flared again—
And went out.
Elara collapsed. I caught her before she hit the floor, and this time when I touched her through the bond I felt only her. Exhausted. Terrified. But her.
"What," I said, looking up at Kira, "the hell was that?"
"A Voidtouched." Kira sheathed her sword. "Nasty things. They live in the spaces between worlds and feed on emotional bonds. Your summoning must have cracked something open." She looked at the Archmagus. "I told you the ritual was unstable."
"You told me no such thing." The Archmagus was still pale. "You said—"
"I said many things. You heard what you wanted to hear." Kira crouched next to me, studying Elara's face. "She will live. Probably. The possession was brief. But the bond is compromised now. It will need to be cleansed or—"
"Or what?" Seraphine hadn't lowered her sword. "Speak plainly."
"Or the Voidtouched will return." Kira met her eyes. "Again and again, using the bond as a doorway, until it either consumes them both or they sever the connection." She paused. "Which would also kill them both. So. Not ideal."
I looked down at Elara. She was breathing, at least. Shallow and fast, but breathing. "There has to be another way."
"There is." Kira stood. "But you will not like it."
"I don't like any of this."
"Fair." She walked to the window, looking out at the city below. "The bond needs to be stabilized. Reinforced. Made strong enough that the Voidtouched cannot use it as a gateway." She glanced back at me. "That requires a ritual. A dangerous one. And it requires..." She trailed off.
"Requires what?" I was getting really tired of people not finishing their sentences.
"It requires you to fully accept the bond." Kira's voice was careful. "Not just acknowledge it. Accept it. Embrace it. Let it become part of who you are." She paused. "Empaths who do that tend to burn out faster. The emotional load becomes too much. They feel everything their bonded feels, and eventually..." She made a gesture like smoke dissipating.
"Eventually they die." Seraphine's voice was cold. "Like Aldric."
Kira looked at her. Something passed between them. Recognition, maybe. Or shared grief. "Yes. Like Aldric."
The room went quiet. I could hear Elara breathing. Could feel her heartbeat through the bond, syncing with mine. Could feel the exhaustion and fear and confusion bleeding through the connection.
"How long?" I asked. "If I do this. How long do I have?"
"Depends." Kira shrugged. "On how strong you are. On how much she needs you. On how well you manage the load." She met my eyes. "Aldric lasted five years. Some last longer. Some burn out in months."
"That is not a choice." Seraphine stepped forward. "That is a death sentence."
"It's his death sentence." Kira's voice was flat. "His choice."
"No." Seraphine's hand was on my shoulder. "I will not allow—"
"You don't get to allow or not allow anything." The words came out harsher than I meant. "This is my life. My bond. My choice."
Seraphine's hand tightened. "You do not understand what you are—"
"I understand fine." I looked up at her. "I understand that if I don't do this, that thing comes back. I understand that Elara dies. I understand that I probably die too." I paused. "And I understand that you're trying to protect me because you couldn't protect Aldric. But I'm not him."
Her face went very still. "You know nothing about—"
"I know he was your mentor. I know he was an Empath. I know he died saving you from something." I kept my voice gentle. "And I know you blame yourself."
For a second, I thought she might hit me. Her hand dropped from my shoulder. "The Archmagus told you."
"The Archmagus told me some. I figured out the rest." I shifted Elara's weight in my arms. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry you lost him. I'm sorry it still hurts. But I'm not going to let Elara die because you're scared of losing someone else."
Seraphine's jaw worked. "You are a fool."
"Probably, yeah."
"You will burn yourself out within a year."
"Maybe."
"You will die in agony, feeling everything she feels, drowning in emotions that are not your own until there is nothing left of who you are."
"Sounds about right."
"And you are still going to do it."
"Yeah." I looked down at Elara. "Yeah, I am."
Seraphine was quiet for a long moment. Then she turned to Kira. "What does the ritual require?"
The ritual required three things, apparently. A circle of binding. A catalyst. And a witness who understood the cost.
We set up in the Archmagus's private sanctum, a circular room at the top of the tower with windows that looked out over the entire city. The floor was already marked with permanent wards and sigils, which saved time. Kira spent twenty minutes modifying them, adding new patterns in chalk and what looked like crushed gemstones.
"This will hurt," she said, not looking up from her work. "Both of you. The bond will fight the reinforcement. It will feel like being torn apart and stitched back together at the same time."
"Great." I was sitting cross-legged in the center of the circle, Elara across from me. She'd woken up ten minutes ago, groggy and confused and terrified. I'd explained what happened. What we had to do. She'd gone very pale and very quiet and then nodded once.
"How long does it take?" Elara's voice was hoarse.
"An hour. Maybe two." Kira finished the last sigil and stood. "You will want to scream. Do not. You will want to break the circle. Do not. You will want to sever the bond and run as far from each other as possible. Definitely do not."
"What happens if we do?" I asked.
"You die. Messily." Kira walked to the edge of the circle. "The Archmagus will provide the catalyst. I will maintain the wards. Seraphine will be your anchor."
"My what?"
"Your anchor." Kira looked at Seraphine. "When the pain becomes too much, when you start to lose yourself in the bond, she will pull you back. Remind you who you are. Keep you from drowning." She paused. "It is not a pleasant job."
Seraphine's face was unreadable. "I have done it before."
"I know." Kira's voice was soft. "That is why I am asking you to do it again."
The Archmagus entered carrying a small crystal vial filled with something that glowed like liquid starlight. "The catalyst. Distilled essence of a bonding ritual, mixed with phoenix ash and moonwater." He set it carefully between Elara and me. "When you are ready, you will each drink half. The ritual will begin immediately."
I looked at Elara. She looked back. Her eyes were still scared, but there was something else there too. Determination, maybe. Or resignation.
"You don't have to do this," I said. "If you want to find another way—"
"There is no other way." Her voice was steady. "And even if there was, I would not take it." She reached across the space between us, hand palm-up. "You saved my life. Twice now. The least I can do is let you save it again."
I took her hand. The bond hummed between us, warm and alive and fragile. "For the record, I'm terrified."
"Good." She almost smiled. "That makes two of us."
Kira began chanting. The wards around the circle flared to life, lines of light connecting in geometric patterns that hurt to look at directly. The Archmagus joined in, his voice deeper, resonant, speaking words in a language I didn't recognize but felt in my bones.
Seraphine knelt behind me, hands on my shoulders. "Listen to me," she said quietly. "When it becomes too much, focus on my voice. Focus on something real. Something that grounds you."
"Like what?"
"Anything. A memory. A person. A place." Her grip tightened. "Aldric used to focus on the smell of his mother's cooking. Bread and honey and cinnamon. He said it reminded him of being human."
I nodded. Couldn't speak. The chanting was getting louder, the wards brighter, and the air in the circle felt thick and electric and wrong.
Elara picked up the vial. Her hand shook. "Together?"
"Together."
She drank half. Passed it to me. I drank the rest.
It tasted like lightning and roses and burning copper.
Then the pain started.
I'd broken my arm once, when I was twelve. Fell off a bike doing something stupid. I remembered the snap, the white-hot agony, the way my vision had gone gray at the edges.
This was worse.
This was that pain in every nerve at once. This was being unmade and remade and unmade again. This was feeling Elara's fear and pain and desperation crash into me like a wave while my own emotions tried to claw their way out through my skin.
The bond between us blazed. Not warm anymore. Burning. Searing. A line of molten gold connecting chest to chest, heart to heart, and it was pulling us together and tearing us apart and I couldn't breathe couldn't think couldn't—
"Jake." Seraphine's voice cut through the chaos. "Focus. Stay with me."
I tried. God, I tried. But Elara's emotions were drowning me. Her terror. Her guilt. Her desperate need to survive mixed with the certainty that she was going to die here, in this circle, because of a ritual she didn't understand and a bond she never asked for.
And underneath it all, something else. Something she'd been hiding. A memory, sharp and bright and painful, of a council chamber and raised voices and a man in expensive robes saying we cannot allow the Empath to live, he will expose everything, we must act now before—
The memory shattered. Elara screamed. So did I.
"Stay in the circle!" Kira's voice was sharp. "Do not break the wards!"
But the pain was too much. I could feel myself fragmenting, pieces of who I was scattering into the bond, mixing with Elara until I couldn't tell where I ended and she began. I was Jake Mercer, twenty-three, from a world with cars and internet and coffee shops. I was Elara val Moraine, heir to a kingdom I never wanted, trapped in a web of politics and lies. I was both. I was neither. I was—
"Bread and honey and cinnamon." Seraphine's voice was right in my ear. "Focus on that. Focus on something real."
Bread and honey and cinnamon. I'd never smelled that combination. Didn't have a memory attached to it. But I could imagine it. Warm bread fresh from the oven. Sweet honey dripping from the comb. Cinnamon sharp and spicy and grounding.
I held onto that. Built a wall around it in my mind. This is me. This is real. This is—
The bond surged again. Elara's memories crashed into me. A sister. She had a sister. Younger. Kira. No, not Kira. Someone else. Someone with Kira's eyes and Kira's smile but softer, gentler, and she was gone, taken, held by something dark and hungry and—
Wait.
That wasn't Elara's memory.
she understood me the same moment the bond flared white-hot. The memories were bleeding together. Elara's. Mine. And someone else's. Someone in the room. Someone whose pain was so old and so deep it had worn grooves in their soul.
Kira.
I looked at her. She was still chanting, still maintaining the wards, but her face had gone pale. Her hands were shaking. And through the bond—through the connection that was reaching out like roots, touching everything in the circle—I felt it.
Her sister. Alive. Imprisoned. Held by the same demon lord who owned Kira's contract. Used as leverage. As a leash. As a reminder that Kira could never be free because freedom meant her sister's death.
Kira's eyes met mine. She knew. Knew I'd seen. Knew I'd felt. And for a second, just a second, her mask cracked.
"Please," she whispered. So quiet I almost didn't hear it. "Please do not—"
The bond exploded outward.
Not just connecting me and Elara anymore. Connecting everything. Everyone. I felt Seraphine's grief, sharp and fresh as the day Aldric died. Felt the Archmagus's guilt over a ritual he knew was dangerous but performed anyway. Felt Kira's desperate, aching hope that maybe, maybe this Empath would be different, would be strong enough to help her save—
The door burst open.
A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Expensive robes. Face I recognized from Elara's memory. Council member. The one who'd ordered my death.
He was holding a crossbow.
"Forgive me," he said, and fired.