“You’re looking for something secret.”
I turned.
A young man stood beside the next column, one hand braced lightly against it, the other holding a slim volume. He was beautiful in a quiet way—his features fine, eyes large and dark beneath curling lashes. Hisseretwas perfectly draped, not ostentatious, but elegant, falling low at the waist and gathered with a cord of pale thread. He moved like he was used to not being noticed—until he wanted to be.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “You’ve got the look of someone tracing a thread back to the spindle.”
“I’m just… reading,” I said. Too quickly.
“A good lie,” he said, smiling. “But not the right one. Come—I’ll show you the shelves that matter.”
He turned without waiting and I followed, unsure why. Maybe it was the way he didn’t press, or the way he made the silence feel like an invitation rather than a judgment.
“This side,” he said, drawing a slender volume from the lower shelf and offering it to me. “You won’tfind rituals in the mythologies. They keep them here—closer to the source, farther from the poets.”
I took the book. The leather was soft, the cover unmarked.
“I’m Caedin,” he added. “You’re Callis.”
It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
“You’re not from here.”
Again, not a question.
“No.”
“I wasn’t, either. Once.”
He smiled again, and for the first time since arriving, I didn’t feel like someone’s curiosity. I felt… seen.
We collected three more volumes in quiet—one on the rites of passage, another marked with the seal of the moon goddess, and a final one too faded to identify. I offered to carry them all, but Caedin waved the offer away.
“We’ll share the weight.”
We left the temple together.
The sun had dipped a little lower. The light through the arches had turned amber, and the shadows stretched long across the marble.
“I didn’t think anyone would be so helpful here,” I said, after a long pause.
“Most people here are helpful,” Caedin said. “Just not always in the way you want them to be.”
I laughed once, a breath more than sound. “That’s… accurate.”
“You’re searching for information on the Bond.”
I glanced down at the scrolls in my hands.
“I want to understand it,” I admitted. “The things I’ve heard are conflicting. I heard it’s painful, but also… beautiful. Easy.”
“It’s not easy,” he said. “But it can be.”
We walked in silence for a few steps before he continued.
“It’s more than a promise. It’s not a ceremony you walk through and forget. The Bond is physical, yes, but it’s spiritual too. It settles beneath the skin. It marks you, changes the rhythm of your thoughts, even your breath.”
