Chapter 49: The Bonding Ceremony Begins

The hidden cave behind the sealed doors could only be reached by passing through the barn that housed the Storm Eagles’ giant mountain goats. The moment they stepped back outside, Kren couldn’t help the breath of relief that escaped him. A barn, of all places — and while he genuinely liked those goats by now, there was a great deal to be said about just how badly they smelled. Then again, that had clearly been deliberate. Anyone passing through would assume the barn was exactly what it appeared to be, reeking and unremarkable, nothing worth hiding behind it unless you already knew the truth.

Kren had to hand it to them — that was genuinely clever misdirection. He never would have guessed the vault existed if he hadn’t been led there personally. Still, what mattered most now was the bond itself, and given how significant the event was, it needed to happen publicly. Good for morale, if nothing else.

Besides, the bonding ceremony would double as his and Pina’s formal betrothal. Two birds, one stone. As they made their way back toward the central square, Kren noticed a raised platform waiting for them, the entire village already gathered around it — including every other hopeful suitor who’d come here originally intending to slay the alpha and claim Pina’s hand for themselves. Most of those faces carried open displeasure, though Kren could hardly blame them for it.

They’d arrived here believing they stood a real chance against the Lyndwyrm. But the chief had kept his original invitation deliberately vague, quietly hoping some crest-holder among them would die in the attempt, leaving a crest behind to claim afterward. Unfortunately for him, few outsiders thought much of the Storm Eagles these days — those who’d actually answered the summons were trusted vassals and loyal followers at best, not a single one of them carrying an actual crest. No family crest. No clan crest. No tribal crest, and certainly no kingdom crest.

Except for Kren.

He turned his attention briefly to Pina walking beside him. Her expression had gone carefully blank, set like stone for whatever came next. Deciding a little mischief was in order, Kren reached over and took her hand without warning. She stiffened immediately, attempting to yank it free — but there was no version of this where she overpowered him. A wild grin spread across his face, one he made a point of flashing to everyone they passed on the way to the platform.

"What exactly do you think you’re doing?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice low enough that no one nearby would catch it. Kren only chuckled, leaning down to murmur directly into her ear.

"You’re mine now. Just making sure everyone sees it clearly. And you should smile more, Pina — that scowl makes you look like a middle-aged Lyndwyrm." He felt her stiffen again at the insult, and somehow, the glare she shot him in response became the single most beautiful thing he’d seen since setting foot in these mountains.

They reached the platform, where her father already stood waiting alongside the other village elders. Kren and Pina climbed up together, finally standing face to face, the rest of their lives about to begin, bound to each other permanently. Unlike marriage, a bond of this kind had only one thing capable of breaking it — death. Both of them understood that going in.

"My people!" the village chief called out to the gathered crowd, struggling but still managing to spread both arms wide for effect. Kren had to fight down the urge to roll his eyes at the theatrics.

"The time has come to officially begin the bonding of two sovereign bloodlines!" Silence answered him, broken only by a scattered handful of half-hearted cheers. After Kren’s earlier display in this same square, no one believed for a second that the chief’s enthusiasm here was anything but performance.

"Kren, blood of N’kora, last of the Blackmanes, shall join with Pinariel, last of the Storm Eagle sovereign bloodline! Together, as one, they shall usher in a new age of prosperity for our people. I ask for a moment of silence now, as this most sacred rite is carried out."

The entire square fell quiet. A distinct weight settled over the gathering — the unmistakable gravity of something ancient and sacred, a rite that had once ignited wars and forged great alliances throughout the old age of beastmen, long before the dragons ever touched these shores and carved the continent into nine separate empires.

Kren stepped forward and clasped his hand over Pina’s, both of them crossing wrists as her father produced a ceremonial red cord, soaked through with the blood of a newborn goat. Filthy, to put it mildly. Kren genuinely didn’t want to know where, or how, they’d managed to source a newborn goat specifically for this.

The cord wound tight around their joined wrists, looping again and again until their fists sat bound together firmly. That same heavy atmosphere pressed down harder as a sudden pulse of Aura bled out from between their clasped hands — deep crimson, sending out a single wave that seemed to echo back in time with every heartbeat present in the square.

The crowd faltered as one, the sensation as unexpected as it was unsettling. Looks passed rapidly between villagers — fear in most of them, curiosity in a few, and in a select handful, something closer to fury and hatred.

Kren tuned all of it out. The light, the sound, the crowd itself, all faded into distant background noise. Without warning, he and Pina found themselves standing together in a dark, roiling space, lightning flickering silently through clouds of churning darkness as wind howled furiously around them. A sharp, piercing screech tore through the gloom, and Kren turned to find a massive aura-formed silhouette of an eagle looming directly behind Pina, royal golden eyes glaring straight back at him, screeching open defiance, refusing utterly to bow its sovereign head.

Kren frowned. It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that an inner beast itself might refuse the bond outright. This wasn’t a joining of equals, after all — Kren stood as king here, and by rights, this eagle had no real choice but to acknowledge that. The space around them shuddered violently, a thin stream of light tearing loose from the center of Kren’s chest, spiraling upward before curving back down toward Pina.

The eagle shrieked again, and the light’s advance stopped dead in its tracks. Kren felt the backlash immediately — a dull, heavy thud echoing deep in his own chest. His mouth flooded with blood, and he clenched his jaw shut, forcing it back down by sheer will. There was nothing left for him to say or do. This part of the ritual, it seemed, belonged entirely to the beasts themselves — his, and Pina’s, however dormant hers had been for years, now refusing outright to recognize any sovereign standing above it.

And that refusal was slowly killing him.