A/N Three of Three

Lysander raised his hand toward the archway they had come through. A faint shimmer danced across the entrance. A magical barrier, James realized, making escape physically impossible now. The robed attendants began chanting in unison, the syllables of a language James did not recognize echoing eerily.

James stood in the center circle, heart pounding, as Elira joined him. She lifted her left hand, palm facing upward. From a hidden sheath strapped to her forearm, she withdrew a small obsidian dagger. Light from the bluish sconces played along its razor-sharp edge.

“I am Baroness Elira Thornwynd of Ashwynd,” she intoned, voice resonating with authority. “By the covenant of soul and spirit, I bind you to my service. My soul stands above yours, and so your will is subsumed into my own. Place your hand atop mine, boy.”

James, breathing hard, did as commanded. The dagger flashed. Pain seared through his palm as she sliced both their hands, letting blood trickle into a waiting metal bowl by their feet. The chanting of the robed figures rose in pitch, echoing off the stones. The runes on the floor flared to life with a harsh, crimson glow.

A wave of agony slammed into James like a physical assault. Every nerve flared white-hot. He tasted copper as he bit his tongue to keep from screaming. The sensation felt before worse than any broken bone or injury. It was as though someone was actively tearing at the invisible threads that bound his mind together.

Baroness Elira locked eyes with him, her pupils dilating as if in ecstasy. James could feel her presence sinking into him, hooking into his essence. A suffocating pressure wrapped around his consciousness. His lips parted, a cry forming, but his voice stuck in his throat.

Stay calm, a part of him commanded. He forced {Aura Control} to the forefront, trying to shield himself from the mental invasion. At the same time, he conjured the memory of his reincarnation, that echo of a second soul subsumed deep within him. Let it remain hidden, he told himself, let her only claim what she can see.

Her voice rang out, each word a hammer blow. “You will not harm me or my kin. You will not conspire against my interests. You will serve when called. You will not reveal the secrets of your soul to any but me and those I trust. You will, above all else, hold my life and my will above your own.”

Her words reverberated through James’s core, forging a chain around his psyche. He gasped as the runes flared even brighter, bathing the chamber in a blazing red glare. Then, in a final crescendo of chanting, the light burst outward, and the pain abruptly vanished, leaving a deafening silence.

James collapsed to his knees, trembling, blood dripping from the cut in his hand. Baroness Elira looked down at him, lips curved in satisfaction. She withdrew her hand, the wound already starting to close with the help of some healing salve or magical remedy that she pressed to it.

He bowed his head low, deliberately letting out ragged breaths to appear beaten. Inside, he tested the intangible shackles on his mind. They were undeniably there, a thick net of compulsion that, if he tried to defy the explicit commands just given, would snare him. Yet he felt a resilience beneath it all a faint partition he was certain the Baroness had not detected. Two souls. One was bound, the other drifting just out of her reach.

Elira nodded in approval. “Welcome to my service, boy. Stand tall. You will have many duties to attend to and much to learn.”

James forced himself up, legs shaky. The robed figures carried the ritual items back to the shelves, carefully cleaning and storing each piece as if they were holy relics. Lysander lowered the magical barrier, then offered James a small cloth to press against his wounded hand.

“Come,” the Baroness said, voice softer now but no less commanding. “We will see to your accommodations. Lysander, bring him back to the others. Oh and James, feel free to share what happened with the others you're all in this together now. They're your team after all.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Lysander led James out of the ritual chamber, back through the labyrinth of twisting halls. Despite the binding vow swirling in James’s mind, he dared to see if he could glean more about the keep. He began to note every passageway, every tapestry, every detail, employing his brand-new awareness of {Understand the Connection}. Subtle hints started surfacing: inconsistencies in the tapestry depictions, small mechanical grooves near certain walls that might hide secret doors, the positioning of suits of armor that could conceal contraband or function as hidden guardians. he didn't know if it was conjecture or reality that he was exploring but he was going to try and figure out how it all works.

Even so, a cloak of chill hung over the place. James wondered how many had been forced into these same halls, taken to that very same ritual chamber, bound into subservience. Joey’s words echoed in his ears, "I cut off my own finger. I couldn’t scream." The memory made James’s stomach churn with anger. He realized how precarious his own position was. And he was glad he had the upperhand in it.

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From the glimpses out tall, narrow windows, James saw that it must be nighttime. The moon hung low, casting silver beams across the land. Beyond the walls of the keep’s main complex, the silhouette of a small settlement flickered with lamplight. Thornwynd proper, he guessed. The city the Baroness ruled, or terrorized, or both. A ring of farmland sprawled further, cut by a winding river. He committed it all to memory.

They climbed a wide spiral staircase lit by more magical sconces, eventually returning to the large “cathedral” bedchamber where James had first awakened. Joey was still there, sitting on his bed, while Garret lay restlessly on his own. Another figure a girl with pale blonde hair was slowly stirring on a bed near the corner. She rubbed her eyes, seeming disoriented.

Lysander halted at the threshold, turning to James with that enchanting smile. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, then raised his voice so all awake occupants could hear. “Our dear Baroness has welcomed you into her fold. More will be explained in the morning, but for now, rest. Tomorrow, you begin your training.”

James detected an undercurrent of mocking amusement in Lysander’s tone. He fought off a shiver. Then Lysander left, the door closing gently behind him. A heavy thunk of a lock turning reached James’s ears, though the door had no visible bolt from the inside. They were effectively sealed in.

Joey rushed to James’s side, eyes scanning him frantically. “Did they... did it happen? Are you…?”

James nodded grimly, showing the bandaged cut on his palm. “The Soul Binding. She did it.”

Joey let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

James laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’m… okay. I think.”

At the far corner of the room, the other boy, Garret, stayed silent, eyes flicking between the newcomers. Closer by, the blond girl rubbed her temples as though fighting a headache. She appeared about the same age ten or so her features framed by loose braids that made her look younger than she was. She wore the same kind of linen clothing they all did, and her face was marked by tear stains.

Two more figures occupied beds next to her. One was a boy who looked perhaps ten or eleven, with curly dark hair and skin a shade deeper than the rest of them. The other was a girl, around the same age maybe a bit older, with short-cropped brown hair and a scattering of freckles across her nose. Both were still unconscious, though they stirred occasionally as if on the verge of waking.

James cleared his throat, stepping forward so everyone could see him. “Um, hi,” he said awkwardly. “I’m James.”

The blonde girl nodded slowly. “I’m Sarah,” she offered. Her voice trembled with exhaustion. “I woke up a while ago but… everything is so strange.”

“Yes, it is,” Joey murmured. “You’re safe here with us, though. At least as safe as we can be, under these circumstances.”

James glanced around the dimly lit chamber. “We don’t have many options,” he admitted. “But let’s keep ourselves calm. If we work together, we might figure out a way out of this. What do we know about each other so far?”

Joey motioned to Garret, who turned a wary eye on them but said nothing. His posture was hunched, distrust radiating from his tense shoulders. Sarah twisted her fingers together, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, Joey took the lead. “James is my friend. We’ve been traveling together for… a while. We got caught up in the Baroness’s net. She has a Soul Binder Talent and she forces us to obey certain commands.” He hesitated, then glanced apologetically at Garret. “I’m sorry if any of this is a repetition for you, but James only just joined us officially.”

Garret shrugged, quiet, though there was a flicker of empathy in his eyes.

Sarah looked at James. “You said your name is James? Did they… do the binding on you, too?”

James nodded. “Just now. I’m alright.” He pondered how much to share. He recalled the vow that forbade revealing certain secrets. Probably best not to mention the second soul or his plan to subvert the binding. That might trigger the compulsion. “We’ll figure something out.”

A wave of weariness crashed over him. The soul-binding ritual had drained him more than he wanted to admit. Across the room, the others began to stir, shifting under their blankets. Then Joey yawned, leaning against James’s shoulder.

They had no sense of time, but it felt like the dead of night. Perhaps it would be best to sleep, to gather their strength before the trials of the next day. That, however, was when the door swung open with abrupt force, causing them all to jump.

Lysander reappeared, purple eyes shining eerily in the gloom. “Sarah,” he said, voice carrying that dangerous lull. “You’re wanted. Come.”

Sarah paled. She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “Wh-where are you taking me?” she asked, trembling.

He offered no answer, simply motioned for her to hurry. With a glance of frightened apology to the rest, she followed him out the door. It closed again, that same ominous thunk of the lock sealing them away.

Joey cursed under his breath. “They’re picking us off one by one.”

James inhaled deeply, face setting in resolve. “We’ll help each other. I promise.”

The newly roused children were now blinking awake. The girl with freckles groaned and sat up, while the curly-haired boy rubbed at his eyes.

“What’s going on?” the freckled girl mumbled, voice small. “Where are we?”

Garret cleared his throat, addressing them for the first time. “You’re in the Baroness’s keep. She’s… collecting us for some purpose.” He shot a glance at James and Joey. “I don’t know all of you, but we’re obviously in the same mess.”

James nodded. “I’m James. This is Joey.” He gestured to the others. “That’s Garret, and the girl who just left is Sarah. We’re prisoners, or at least indentured. The Baroness has some kind of… mind control. Soul Binding.”

The boy with curly hair swallowed nervously. “I’m Bennett,” he offered, voice cracking. “I remember traveling with a caravan, then… men attacked… then I woke up here.”

The freckled girl hugged her knees to her chest. “I’m Eliana,” she murmured. “I just want to go home.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. None of them had a real plan. Yet James felt a spark of determination and a desire to free these kids. He intended to use every scrap of knowledge to free them. But first, they needed to rest, to gather their wits. There was no telling what the morning would bring.

So they huddled on their beds, some exchanging whispered words, others too lost in their own thoughts to speak. The gentle hiss of torches above provided the only lullaby. Eventually, one by one, they drifted off into fitful sleep, haunted by the knowledge of what had just been done to them.