Page 222 of Elemental Becoming

Most students mistake the relationship at first. They assume that magics give rise to power. In reality, the causality runs the other way. When a great force enters the world, magics stir and gather around it, seeking equilibrium.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

We sit in Valen’s quarters, the conversation behind us but still echoing in the room.

We told him everything. The shift in the bond. The way Thane heard my thoughts. The way I was able to hear his thoughts in my mind. And what happened when he let go—whenthe shadows answered.

Now Valen watches us, that inscrutable stillness settling over him.

“Valen,” I say, after too long a stretch of silence. “Say something. Please.”

The tea is cooling now, but I sip it anyway, trying to quiet the nerves fraying under my skin. The scent of chamomile lingers between us.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” Valen remarks. “And yet . . . everything about the two of you keeps rewriting what I thought I understood.”

He leans back, eyes narrowing with focus.

“I’ve read of something like this. Once. A bond that wasn’t between rider and dragon—but between two people. Rare and ancient. The last time it was recorded, it involved the final Shadow Warden.”

His gaze flicks to Thane, then back to me.

“They could speak through thought. Sense one another’s pain. Their emotional states were constantly . . . open. It wasn’t a bond you reached for like a rider and their dragon does. It was always there. Like breath.”

He falls quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, the weight of it settles deep.

“They sealed the Unmaking inside the Shadow Realm. Together. And after that . . . the bond vanished from record.”

Valen turns toward the shelves that line the far wall.

“There’s mention of it in the archives. Buried, but it’s there. Possibly the same kind of bond you now share.”

My fingers tighten around the cup, the heat of the tea grounding me as the weight of Valen’s words sinks in.

“What happened to them?” I ask, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

Valen takes a measured sip from his cup, as though theanswer doesn’t come lightly. He places it carefully back on the table between us, his gaze briefly flicking to the edge of the room before returning to me.

“We don’t know.” His voice is even, but there’s a flicker of something darker there—something unsaid. “The assumption is that they both died in the process of sealing the Shadow Realm. But there’s no record, no certainty. We can only speculate.”

His eyes linger on me a moment longer before he adds, softer but no less grave, “Burnout is likely. It would take a staggering amount of power to seal an entire realm—especially one like that.”

Thane braces his elbows on the table, leaning in. “Valen, do you know why this kind of bond disappeared? Why did it stop forming at all?”

Valen leans back in his chair, gaze distant for a beat.

“Maybe it didn’t vanish,” he says. “Maybe it just . . . wasn’t needed.”

He turns to Thane, then lets his eyes settle on me.

“Until now.”

It suddenly becomes hard to breathe. If the bond only forms when it’s needed—when something like the Unmaking rises—then that means it’s happening again. The world is beginning to break.

I look at Thane. He’s already watching me, lips pressed into a hard line. He’s come to the same conclusion.

The silence between us is thick, heavy with what none of us want to say aloud. It takes several moments before anyone breaks it.