Borrowed Sunlight
The bond hit me like a fist to the sternum.
I doubled over in the hallway outside Elara's chambers, one hand bracing against the stone wall while my lungs forgot how to work. Not pain. Worse than pain. Joy so sharp it felt like drowning, like every nerve ending in my body had been dipped in liquid sunlight and set on fire.
Seraphine's joy. Seraphine's relief. Seraphine's love pouring through the connection between us like a dam had finally broken.
"Shit." I slid down the wall. Sat on the cold floor. Pressed my palms against my eyes. "Shit, shit, shit."
The bond had been there since the summoning. A thread connecting me to Seraphine, letting me feel echoes of her emotions when they ran strong enough. Usually it was background noise. A distant hum. But this—
This was a symphony. A hurricane. A supernova going off inside my chest.
I could feel her hands shaking. Could feel the way her heart hammered against her ribs. Could feel the exact moment Elara's lips touched hers, and the way the world narrowed down to that single point of contact, and the way years of careful control shattered like glass.
"I should go." My voice sounded wrong. Hollow. "I should definitely go."
I didn't move.
Couldn't move. Because underneath the joy, underneath the relief, there was something else bleeding through the bond. Something darker. Seraphine's fear, sharp and cold, that this moment was temporary. That morning would come and Elara would remember her engagement, her duty, her kingdom. That this was stolen time, and the cost would come due.
The door to Elara's chambers opened.
I scrambled to my feet. Tried to look like I hadn't been sitting on the floor having an emotional crisis via magical proxy. Failed spectacularly, probably, because Seris took one look at me and her expression shifted from curious to concerned.
"Jake." She closed the door behind her. Carried a stack of books that looked older than my entire bloodline. "You are pale."
"I'm always pale. It's the whole 'summoned from a world with vitamin D supplements' thing." I wiped my palms on my jeans. They were sweating. Why were they sweating? "What are you doing here?"
"Research." She set the books on a side table. Studied me with those too-sharp eyes that missed nothing. "The bond is active."
Not a question. I didn't bother denying it.
"Yeah." I leaned back against the wall. Tried to breathe normally. "It's, uh. It's pretty active right now."
"What are you feeling?"
"That's kind of personal, don't you think?"
"I am asking what you are feeling, Jake. Not what Seraphine is feeling." Seris moved closer. Her voice dropped. "There is a difference."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I don't—" The words stuck. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do." She pulled a notebook from her robes. Flipped it open. "I have been researching the summoning ritual. The bond it creates. The way it functions." Her finger traced down a page of cramped handwriting. "Every account describes the same phenomenon. The hero feels the emotions of those around them. Empathy as a weapon. Connection as power."
"Okay?"
"But that is not what is happening to you." Seris looked up. "Is it?"
The hallway felt too small. Too warm. I tugged at my collar.
"I feel Seraphine's emotions," I said. "Through the bond. That's what you told me when I first got here."
"Yes. But the bond only activates when your emotions are heightened." She tapped the notebook. "Not hers. Yours. The ritual was supposed to create a one-way connection. You feel others. They do not feel you. But the magic is not working as intended."
My stomach dropped.
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying the bond strengthens when you care about someone." Seris's voice was clinical. Detached. The way doctors sound when they're delivering bad news. "The more you feel, the more you connect. The more you connect, the deeper the violation becomes."
"Violation." The word tasted like ash. "That's a fun word choice."
"It is the accurate word choice." She closed the notebook. "You are not simply feeling Seraphine's emotions, Jake. You are inside her head. Inside her heart. Experiencing her most private moments without her consent. And the bond grows stronger every time you—"
"Every time I what?"
Seris met my eyes.
"Every time you fall in love."
I made it three steps before my legs stopped working.
Seris caught my elbow. Guided me to a bench. Sat beside me while I tried to remember how breathing worked.
"I'm not—" My voice cracked. "I'm not in love with Seraphine."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." I pressed my hands against my face. "She's gorgeous and terrifying and completely out of my league, and I've been here for like two weeks, and that's not how love works. That's not—"
"The bond does not care about your timeline." Seris pulled another book from her stack. This one looked like it had survived a fire. Maybe several fires. "I found this in the restricted archives. It documents the last summoning. One hundred years ago."
"Great. History lesson. Love that for me right now."
"His name was Marcus Thorne." She opened the book. The pages were brittle. Yellow. "He was summoned to fight the Demon King. He succeeded. The kingdom celebrated. And then, three months later, he slaughtered everyone in the capital."
I looked up.
"What?"
"The bond drove him insane." Seris turned a page. Showed me an illustration. A man with wild eyes and blood on his hands, standing in a throne room full of corpses. "The more he cared, the more he connected. The more he connected, the more he felt. Every emotion. Every thought. Every fear and hope and dream of everyone around him. Until he could not tell where he ended and they began."
The hallway spun.
"That's not—" I swallowed. "That's not going to happen to me."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm not a mass murderer?"
"Marcus Thorne was not a mass murderer either. Until he was." Seris closed the book. "The ancient evil stirring in the north is not a demon, Jake. It is not a monster. It is him. The previous hero. Still alive. Still insane. Still connected to every living thing within a hundred miles, feeling everything, unable to die, unable to escape."
My hands were shaking.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you deserve to know what you are becoming." Her voice was gentle. Too gentle. "Because the more you care about the people here, the more dangerous you become. To them. To yourself. To everyone."
"So what?" I stood. Paced. "I'm supposed to just not care? Not feel anything? Become some kind of emotional robot?"
"I do not know." Seris stood as well. "But I know that right now, in that room, Seraphine is experiencing the happiest moment of her life. And you are experiencing it with her. Without her knowledge. Without her permission. And the bond is growing stronger because of it."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong. Wanted to believe that the warmth in my chest was just secondhand joy, just borrowed happiness, just the echo of someone else's feelings.
But I couldn't.
Because underneath Seraphine's emotions, underneath the bond, there was something else. Something that belonged to me. A feeling that had nothing to do with magical connections and everything to do with the way Seraphine smiled when she thought no one was looking, and the way she'd stood between me and danger without hesitation, and the way her voice softened when she said my name.
"I need to talk to her." I moved toward the door. "I need to tell her about the bond. About what's happening."
"Now?" Seris caught my arm. "Jake, she is with Elara. They are—"
"I know what they're doing." I pulled free. "That's the problem. I know exactly what they're doing, and I shouldn't, and she needs to know that I know, and—"
The door opened.
Seraphine stepped out. Her hair was mussed. Her lips were swollen. Her armor was still on the floor inside the room, probably, because she wore only a thin undershirt and her eyes were bright with something that looked like hope.
She saw me. Saw Seris. Saw the books.
The hope dimmed.
"What is wrong?" Her voice was steady. Professional. The mask sliding back into place. "What has happened?"
"Nothing's happened. I just—" I looked at Seris. Back at Seraphine. "We need to talk. About the bond. About what it's doing."
"The bond is functioning as expected." Seraphine's shoulders squared. "You feel my emotions when they are strong. That is the nature of the summoning."
"No. It's not." I took a breath. "Seris found something. About the last hero. About what the bond actually does."
"I do not understand."
"The bond gets stronger when I care about someone." The words came out in a rush. "When I feel something. When I—when I start to fall for someone. And right now, I can feel everything you're feeling, and you didn't consent to that, and I'm basically violating your privacy every time I—"
"Stop." Seraphine held up a hand. "You are saying the bond is tied to your emotions. Not mine."
"Yes."
"And it strengthens when you develop feelings for someone."
"Yes."
"And right now, you are feeling what I feel because you are developing feelings for me."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
"I mean. Maybe? I don't know. It's complicated."
"It is not complicated." Seraphine moved closer. Her voice was quiet. Dangerous. "You are inside my head without my permission. You are experiencing my most private moments. You are—"
"I know." I stepped back. "I know, and I'm sorry, and I don't know how to stop it."
"Try harder."
The words hit like a slap.
Seraphine turned. Walked back into Elara's chambers. Closed the door.
I stood in the hallway. Stared at the wood. Felt the bond pulse with hurt and anger and betrayal, and underneath it all, a thread of fear that I'd just ruined everything.
"That went well," I said.
Seris didn't answer.
I spent the next hour in the library, reading everything Seris had found about Marcus Thorne.
It didn't help.
Every account said the same thing. The hero had been kind. Compassionate. Eager to help. He'd formed bonds with the people around him. Fallen in love with a princess. Saved the kingdom. And then, slowly, the connections had grown too strong. Too deep. He'd started feeling everyone's emotions. Everyone's thoughts. Everyone's pain. Until he couldn't tell where he ended and they began. Until the only way to make it stop was to make them stop.
"There has to be another way." I closed the book. Rubbed my eyes. "There has to be something he didn't try."
"If there was, it is not recorded." Seris sat across from me. "Every text says the same thing. The bond cannot be broken. Only managed."
"Managed how?"
"Distance. Emotional detachment. Avoiding situations that trigger strong feelings." She paused. "Avoiding love."
"Great. So I'm supposed to just be alone forever. Never care about anyone. Never let anyone care about me. That's the solution?"
"It is the only solution that does not end in madness."
I laughed. It came out bitter.
"You know what's funny? I was alone in my world. Completely alone. No friends. No family. No one who gave a shit if I lived or died. And then I get summoned here, and suddenly I have people who care, and it turns out that's the thing that's going to destroy me." I stood. Paced. "It's like the universe has a sick sense of humor."
"Jake—"
"No. I'm done." I headed for the door. "I'm done reading about dead heroes and inevitable madness. I'm going to figure this out. I'm going to find a way to control the bond without becoming a hermit. And I'm going to—"
The door burst open.
A guard stumbled in. His face was pale. His hands were shaking.
"The Archmagus," he gasped. "Veldrin Kross. He is here. He is demanding an audience with the queen. He says—" The guard swallowed. "He says he knows about the forgery. He says he has proof. He says if the queen does not surrender herself for trial, he will bring war to the capital."
Seris stood. Her face was carved from ice.
"Where is he now?"
"The throne room. He brought twenty mages. They are—" The guard's voice cracked. "They are preparing a binding circle. He says if the queen does not appear within the hour, he will assume she is fleeing justice. He will declare her a traitor. He will—"
I was already running.
The bond flared. Seraphine's panic hit me like a wave. She was in the throne room. She was standing between Elara and the Archmagus. She was ready to fight. Ready to die.
Ready to do whatever it took to protect the woman she loved.
I burst through the throne room doors.
Twenty mages in silver robes stood in a circle. Their hands glowed with power. In the center, Veldrin Kross stood with his arms spread, his face serene, his voice echoing through the chamber like a funeral bell.
"We do not wish for violence," he said. "We do not wish for war. But justice must be served. The law must be upheld. And if the queen will not answer for her crimes, then we must assume she places herself above the law. Above the kingdom. Above the very principles that hold our society together."
Elara stood on the dais. Her face was pale. Her hands were steady.
Seraphine stood in front of her. Her sword was drawn. Her eyes were locked on Kross.
"You will not touch her," Seraphine said.
"We do not wish to touch her." Kross's voice was sad. Regretful. "We wish only for truth. For justice. For the kingdom to know what their queen has done." He turned. Looked directly at me. "And we wish for the hero to understand what he has been summoned to protect. A liar. A forger. A woman who would sacrifice peace itself to maintain her grip on power."
The bond pulsed. Seraphine's fear. Elara's desperation. And underneath it all, something else. Something darker.
My power, waking up. Reaching out. Connecting to everyone in the room.
I could feel the mages' determination. Kross's righteous certainty. The guards' confusion. Elara's guilt. Seraphine's love.
All of it. All at once. A thousand emotions crashing into me like a tidal wave.
"Jake." Seris's voice was behind me. Urgent. "You need to leave. Now. Before the bond—"
"Ah." Kross smiled. "The hero. How fortuitous. We were hoping you would join us. You see, we have a question for you. A simple question. One that will determine the fate of this kingdom."
He raised his hand. The mages' circle flared brighter.
"Did you know?" Kross asked. "Did you know that your summoning was based on a lie? That the treaties you were brought here to protect were forged? That everything you have been told, everything you have been asked to fight for, was built on deception?"
I looked at Elara. At Seraphine. At the mages surrounding us.
The bond was screaming. Everyone's emotions. Everyone's thoughts. Everyone's fear and anger and hope and desperation pouring into me, and I couldn't shut it out, couldn't block it, couldn't—
"Answer the question, hero." Kross's voice was gentle. Inexorable. "Did you know about the forgery?"
My mouth opened.
And I felt it. The exact moment my power surged. The exact moment the bond expanded. The exact moment I connected to every single person in the throne room, feeling everything they felt, knowing everything they knew, drowning in a sea of emotions that weren't mine but were becoming mine, and I couldn't tell where I ended and they began, and—
"Yes," I heard myself say. "I knew."
Seraphine's sword clattered to the floor.
Elara's face went white.
Kross smiled.
"Then you are complicit," he said. "And you will stand trial alongside your queen. Guards—seize them both."
The mages' circle contracted.
And through the bond, through the connection, through the power that was tearing me apart from the inside, I felt Seraphine's heart break.