[https://i.imgur.com/DRniYke.png]

Caleb wouldn’t forget her expression. Skeptical disbelief sprinkled with healthy skepticism. It didn’t help that the dim light just barely touched the edges of her. It highlighted the curve of her nose and the plane of her cheek. The faint glow spread across her neck and dipped under her shirt.

“What the hell are you talking about, Cal?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I know it sounds batshit bonkers, but I’ve been doing research.”

Styx let out a slow breath and Caleb gulped. This was wreaking havoc on him. Being this close to her without being able to touch her constantly. Everything inside of him was shouting, screaming, crumbling under the exquisite torture of wanting to caress her, hold her, get lost in her and yet being unable to.

“If you weren’t a scholar, I wouldn’t trust a single word you’ve said…” she trailed off.

“Have you had any symptoms?” he asked. Both fearing and craving the answer. Because if she said none, everything inside of him would detonate.

Styx hesitated, her gaze digging into his soul and laying it bare. God, he hoped she could read what his eyes were saying. That he wanted to be close to her. Soul bond or no. He found her interesting, enticing. He found her powerful and captivating.

“Yeah,” she said, ending the torture. “I’ve felt the new power.”

The words were almost too good to be true. Hope that he’d denied himself burst into full display. With stunned excitement, he watched her dig a fist into the ribs above her heart.

That’s where this new energy had rooted itself, deep in the hollow of his chest. He pictured a delicate thread linking them. Already he felt something deep within whispering that together they would be far greater than apart.

“It’s hot, but not in a bad way. Like a new star being born. Then there are the flashes of emotion.”

Caleb perked up. When he looked at her, the darkness seemed to wrap around her. Edging in closer, to push away the light. The thin tendrils of shadow hovered just outside of normal comprehension. But they were there.

Pulling toward her. Worshiping her. Revealing exactly what she was to it.

And he loved it. Darkness never held any fear for him. Even as a child, he moved through shadowy rooms without pause, never rushing for light switches. Night was gentle. Not something to fear. And Styx proved that.

“Yes,” he nodded, a little too eagerly. “Me too. It’s strange. I’ll feel perfectly contented, then a wave of annoyance or apprehension spills across me.”

Styx slumped back in the chair. “I’m the same. Sometimes I’d feel happy for no reason.”

He grinned. “That’s my fault. It’s been an emotional few days for me. I couldn’t help feeling excited as I learned more.”

She smacked the table. The salt and pepper rattled, and the wood groaned. “Why in the hell would that make you excited?”

“Uh…”

“I’m the fucking god of death. The Grim Reaper. The angel of death. The destroyer. Do you know what I do?” her voice was dangerous now. Deep and poignant. Magic and raw power laced it.

How could he tell her he didn’t care? What words could he use to convey that?

“Do you know that with a single touch…” As she spoke, she trailed a single finger up the back of his hand. “I could rip the life from your body?”

As her finger reached his wrist, an icy tingle crept up his arm. A slight tremor shook through him, like a warning from his nerves. An odd numbness spread from her touch, as though his flesh was no longer his own.

It was just enough to remind him of her power, that she could end him if she wished. But not enough to make him believe she meant true harm.

When she withdrew her finger, he saw gossamer threads follow before snapping back. His arm went numb, then pins and needles replaced it. Vigorously he shook the limb to restore blood, or life. He wasn’t sure which. Styx only glared more and leaned away.

[https://i.imgur.com/B1xKHyI.png]

“That shouldn’t make you excited.”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted. “In terms of partners, having Death as your companion might be a little risky. But, honestly, I don’t care.”

Styx huffed and crossed her arms.

“I’m not young anymore.” He let out a breath. “I’ve dated a lot of women. All types. No one has captivated me like you have.”

“Duh. Because of the soul bond.”

“Perhaps, but from my research, these things don’t happen for no reason.”

“You’re correct. This type of magic is rare for beings like myself. The variations happen frequently in the different magical creatures. Werewolves have something very similar called fated mates. There are soulmates, twin flames, fated love, red string of fate.”

“See!”

“I’m not a werewolf, and neither are you. I’m an original deity, created before the first humans appeared. The Creators themselves molded me. I’m incapable of forming a soul bond.”

“Obviously not. Because we have most of the major markers. We both have the new power inside our chest, we share emotion…”

“But we don’t have glimpses, the pull, synchronicity, or mirroring. So we obviously don’t have a soul bond.”

He couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face. “We have the pull. Which is why you ended up here today.”

Styx spluttered and glared. “Cal, do you realize how much this can’t happen?”

“Cal might not, but Caleb does.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a human, you have a family, a job. You have a mortgage and grocery lists.”

“So? Those are all benefits. You’ll get a family too, a job is easy to fix, and the mortgage and grocery lists are incidental.”

Styx rolled her eyes. “You’re a human. Therefore, you cannot enter the underworld. Guess where I live? The underworld. I can’t stay in the mortal realm indefinitely. What’s going to happen when I have to escort the soul of someone you love?”

Caleb hadn’t thought about that.

“Watching as I take their life from them? What happens if they’re not as good as you think, and I torment them for eternity? Will you be okay with that?”

“I…”

“No, I won’t do it. Cancel it.”

“Uh, I think that’s possible, but it would take some serious magic. From my readings, it will probably hurt, too.”

“I don’t care about pain. You know what? Let’s call a friend.”

“Oh! I don’t have a landline, but I can get my cell phone.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Don’t be stupid, Cal. Remember, I’m a god?”

“Right, uh, duh, carry on.”

Styx eyed him, and he mimed zipping his lips. When he stayed quiet, faint traces of magic spilled across the air.

He itched to ask what she was doing. He wanted to know! Was she talking to someone? Was she getting ready to portal away? Did this mean that he was going to have to say goodbye?

Lurching across the table, he grabbed onto her hand. This way she couldn’t leave without at least saying something to him. She shot him a glare so chilling it could freeze hell, but he only smiled softly.

“Okay, Rowan is coming.”

“Rowan? Pestilence?! I get to meet another horse lady? Cool! Is she nice? Does she need food? Could I get an autograph? Does she have the same power as you? Emma will be so sad she missed this.”

Styx held up her hand and his mouth snapped shut. “Stars, Cal. You’re like a hyperactive dog, yip, yip. Jesus.”

“But this is so exciting! It’s not every day…”

The snap of a portal opening stopped him mid-sentence. Then, just seconds later, a figure was in the hallway. Caleb yelped before remembering this was a welcome visitor.

[https://i.imgur.com/NxZfSU0.png]

He shot to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor. Styx sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“Rowan, this is Cal. Cal, meet Rowan. She’s a druid born sometime around 250 BC.”

Caleb tripped over his feet as he eagerly darted forward. The druid eyed him warily and stepped back. She wore a long robe, with intricate Celtic patterns woven into the fabric. She’d braided feathers, stones, and beads into her long hair.

The air around her was crisp and sharp, like standing on a lone mountain peak surrounded by silence and dormant earth. A faint scent of cedar and sage clung to her, remnants of ancient forests and rituals long past.

While Styx held an aura of thick pressure, like standing next to a lava flow, Rowan was potential and preservation, a vessel of nature’s memory awaiting rebirth.

“So this is the human scholar,” Rowan said. “The one who trapped and hurt you?”

Caleb hung his head in shame. How long would that haunt him?

“Yes,” Styx said, getting up from her chair. “He has a theory that we’ve developed a soul bond. I need you to verify or disprove.”

“I can do that, but I’ll need…”

“Oh! I have that,” Caleb said in a burst.

Rowan glared at him. “You don’t know what I need.”

Caleb rubbed his neck. “You’re right, that was rude to interrupt, but considering the spell, I have what you’ll need.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shot up, and she looked between him and Styx. Caleb wrung his hands together, nervous Pestilence would smite him for his insolence.

“I have blood candles, made from the blood of lovers. I also have several old hand fasting cords and a crystal pendulum.”

“Really?” Rowan said.

“Yeah,” Caleb continued. “I also have an ethereal thread, and some ancient runes. Though I’m not sure I have soul centric ones. I think they’re about harvest, childbirth, and taxes. But I haven’t gotten them out in a while, so I might be wrong.”

Rowan fiddled with a feather. “Okay, let’s go see what you’ve got.”

Caleb clapped. “Oh, this will be fun! I haven’t had a druid in my basement before. You can tell me where my collection is lacking. Everlong was incredibly strict about the items I keep. You can help me improve it!”

“See what I deal with?” Styx asked, her voice dry.

“What?” Caleb blinked.

“Nothing.” Styx waved him off. “The basement? Or should I show her?”

“No, no. I’m fine, cool, collected, composed, uh, stuff. This way!” Caleb led them like a general in front of a parade through the house.

As the group descended into his basement, he could hardly contain himself. This was so exciting! A real-life druid was going to perform a spell. An all-powerful god too, not just a normal druid…not that druids were normal.

“Here we go,” Caleb said, flipping on the last light.

The basement was a little worse for wear after his study binge session. There was still trash lying about and the shelves had lapsed into haphazard status, but at least it was still mostly presentable.

“Nice,” Rowan said. “Very nice. I see you subscribe to the old ways of organization.”

“Yes, I organize everything by type and danger level,” Caleb said.

“That is the only sensible way,” Rowan replied, examining the shelves. “I’ve seen amateurs store cursed items haphazardly. Like a witch who kept an ethereal prism by a locket of lost memories—completely botched her potions.”

“Idiots!” Caleb agreed enthusiastically.

“Amateurs,” Rowan declared.

“I see you two will get along,” Styx said dryly. “Perhaps you two should soul bond.”

Caleb met Rowan’s gaze, but immediately dismissed the idea.

“Uh.” He studied his feet. “No offense, um, please don’t smite me, but, yeah, no. I’m more into her.” He pointed at Styx.

Rowan grinned. “No offense taken. You’re too mortal for me.”

“Then let’s be friends!” Caleb jumped up. “Yeah! Friends who talk about potions and spells and share ingredients. Yeah!”

Rowan glared, and Styx snickered.

“Right. That was too much, my bad.”

“Okay, friend,” Rowan said. “Find me those runes. I need to see what you have.”

“Yeah! I can do that! They’re right over here.”

[https://i.imgur.com/sVFMpLw.png]

Leading them to a corner of the room, he pointed out a few big crates that were filled with stone runes.

Caleb dug through one, sifting past runes. “Here’s one complaining about a missing ore shipment, and another about new low credit card rates.” He pulled out more stones. “This one mentions a Nigerian prince needing money…Here! Oh, no, this is just spam about an extended car warranty.”

Caleb frowned. “Sorry, give me a minute to find the proper ritual runes.” He dug deeper into the crate, moving aside the occasional unusual spam stone with a shake of his head. “Ah, here we go. These are more accurate for soul magic. Forgive my cluttered crates. I just can’t seem to throw things away.”

Rowan nodded once before reading through the runes he offered. “These will be good. Do you have anything about uncovering?”

“Yes, I have a crystal of revelation.”

“Excellent…” Rowan began, but her voice trailed off.

Dark purple swirled around Rowan’s hands and Caleb tensed, eyes widening. He sensed a wrongness—this magic moved differently, as if altered by an insidious curse. The vibrant darkness was now a distortion of its former power. A flash of fear filled him before he met Rowan’s distant gaze.

She had a faraway expression on her face, like she was visiting an old friend. When her hands came up, he knew she was feeling something.

“There is…” Rowan stopped. “Something calling me…”

“Uh?”

Styx silenced him with a pinch. He smacked his mouth shut and kept it closed. Rowan continued to move around his basement, her hands out, magic splashing off the stone.

“What is it?” Rowan asked. “From the lost moments and forgotten time. From the early days of cloudy uncertainty. We must find it. We must reunite with it.”

“Styx?” Caleb whispered.

“I don’t know. I have never seen her like this.”

Rowan stopped abruptly before the hidden shelves that held his books, journals, and grimoires. Without asking permission, she threw back the heavy tapestry that protected them. He almost told her to be careful, but stopped himself. She was a god after all, she could probably tell which were harmful.

“Where did you get this?” she pulled out a worn leather-bound journal.

It was one of his favorites, because all the spells, potions, and incantations were useful, and the illustrations were beautiful.

“I found that in Bulgaria, a little bookshop with a magnificent collection of occult items. The owner was…”

His voice trailed off. Dark purple swirled around the book, caressing it, molding around the cover and spine.

“Sealochrann,” Rowan said.

That word changed everything. The normally dull cover transformed, it was now a beautiful soft lavender. The scratches were gone, and only supple leather remained. It morphed to welcome its long-lost author.

[https://i.imgur.com/EqWAYCo.png]

“It’s yours,” he said.

“Yes,” Rowan said, her voice distant. “Yes, it became lost.”

“Then I invite you to reunite.”

Rowan looked up at him, her eyes questioning and bold. “No, it came to you.”

“I insist. Consider it a gift, a symbol of new friendship, of discovery and fate. This journal knew it would find its way back to you, through me. Please accept it. Take your history back.”

Rowan studied him, her eyes becoming glassy for a moment before she blinked the emotion away. “You have made me a little more whole this night. While Sealochrann is rightfully yours, you’ve given it freely. I will not forget this, neither will Sealochrann. Thank you.”

Caleb nodded once. It was his extreme pleasure to reunite an author and book. Rowan shook herself and carefully slid the book into her robes.

“I’ll gather the rest. You and Styx sit inside the pentagram.”

“Okay! Styx my darling…Oh.” He paused. “That was a little cringe, wasn’t it? We aren’t at the pet name stage. Sorry!”

Styx rolled her eyes and joined him inside the pentagram. They sat across from each other while Rowan bustled about, preparing items and whispering incantations.

The light in the basement was just perfect. It allowed him to bask in her radiance and study her. While they had plenty of other things to look at, they only stared at each other.

With each second that elapsed, he could feel the heat inside simmering. They were meant for each other. They had to be. Why else would Styx be alive for the entire course of human history without finding a soul bond? Only for it to appear with him.

A bone-deep chill passed over him, but he readily dismissed the discomfort, too consumed studying Styx wreathed in strange energies. The dark forms of ancient runes circled them, carved shadows echoing the power now building.

Vaporous smoke unfurled, mesmerizing and sinister, then revealing glimpses of the occult runes carved across her pale skin. Her eyes flashed brighter with each foreign word intoned, growing impossibly deeper.

Primordial forces, awakened by Rowan’s hymn, roused in answer, encircling, and testing the pair. The very atmosphere electrified, recognizing two fated souls crossing mystical thresholds others only dared dream of.

The billowing displays of unmatched power didn’t matter. What transfixed him was far more profound than any magical spectacle. Because the most perfect glow highlighted Styx.

Nothing would ever be as beautiful as she was in the dim light, with power caressing her and embracing her. Nothing would ever compare. Nothing could ever compare.

“Caleb is correct.” Rowan’s voice broke the spell that held him captive.

He looked down and gasped. Thin tendrils of vibrant color connected them both. It started from one and led to the other, creating a brilliant wash of magic.

“Fuck,” Styx whispered. “This can’t be good, right? It can’t be good.”

“I think it’s great!” Caleb fist pumped the air.

Rowan snorted and cleaned up the desk before she froze and looked up.

“Oh, do I have more of your things?” Caleb asked.

The only reply was Rowan’s magic appearing again. This time it was a torrent, whipping and churning as it splashed across the floor and climbed the walls.

“Demons have been here. You’re in danger.”