I sat on the lower bunk, fingers tracing the rough grain of the wood as the ship creaked beneath the steady rhythm of the waves. Above me, Lance sprawled out on the upper bunk, arms behind his head, staring silently at the low ceiling.

"A marquess, huh?" I broke the silence, my voice low, but edged with something else. "I thought you knew what it felt like... to not really be one of them?"

Lance scoffed softly, the sound more bitter than amused. "It’s not that simple," he muttered, and even in the quietness of his words, I could hear the weight of his weariness.

I shifted, looking up at the beams above. "So Octavius, huh? Must’ve been hard being the eighth son." I pressed him.

His jaw tightened above me, though he didn’t move. "I wasn’t the eighth son," he said, his voice cutting through the air, sharp and cold. "I was the eighth bastard."

I blinked, caught off guard. His words hung in the air between us, heavy. "What...?"

Lance sighed, and I could feel him adjusting himself on the upper bunk. "My father, Marquess Nogard," he began, his voice distant, "had some... trouble producing an heir. His wife gave him three daughters. Then he married another. Same thing, more daughters."

I didn’t say anything, just stared at the underside of the bunk, listening.

"And then a third wife," he continued, his voice still calm, but there was a tautness beneath it. "Same result. Daughters." He laughed, but it was a dry, humorless sound. "So, after a while, the Marquess tried... less conventional means." I could hear the smile in his voice, bitter as it was. "And that’s where I came in."

The story didn’t really make sense to me. Daughters could be heirs, could they not? But I wasn’t sure what to say, so I waited. Lance didn’t need prompting to continue.

"It wasn’t until I was seven," he said softly, "after countless more failed attempts to produce an heir, that I was finally... recognized. Not as a noble, though. Not really." His voice dipped lower, almost venomous. "I was just the last option. The best of his mistakes."

I let out a slow breath, unsure of how to respond. I already knew Lance wasn’t like the others, but hearing him say it, hearing the rawness of it in his voice, made me realize just how far removed he really was.

"That’s why you don’t... really fit in," I murmured without really thinking about it.

Lance let out a breath that was almost a laugh. Almost. "Fit in?" he echoed, though this time, his voice lacked any real emotion. "I guess I don’t."

For a moment, all that remained was the soft lapping of waves and the creaking of the hull, a reminder that the world outside still moved on, indifferent to our conversation.

"It doesn’t matter now," Lance said, his voice shifting as he hopped down from his bunk, cracking his knuckles. His tone was lighter now. "We’re not there anymore. And none of it matters."

I looked at him, knowing from the way he spoke that it did, in fact, matter. But wasn’t about to point that out.

"I think I’ve had enough rest. Let’s see what you’ve got."

I couldn’t help but smirk a little as I reached over to my bag. I took my time pulling out the contents, laying each piece carefully on the bed. When I was finished, I placed the sword beside them, its weight a satisfying reminder of everything we’d just escaped.

Lance whistled softly in appreciation. "Fifteen Golden Lions," he muttered, his eyes gleaming as he counted the coins. His fingers moved through the items, pausing when he reached a small, white, egg-shaped object. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. "What 's this?"

I shrugged, already feeling a bit annoyed. "How am I supposed to know?"

Lance furrowed his brow, inspecting the egg closely. Then, without warning, his eyes widened, and he dropped it back onto the bed like it had burned him. "Holy Tree!" he breathed. "Is that really...?"

I blinked, confused. "Is that really what?" I glanced from the egg to Lance, who was biting his thumb, staring at it like it was cursed.

"It can’t be," Lance murmured, more to himself than to me. "It’s way too small."

My patience was thinning. "What’s too small? What are you talking about?"

Lance ignored me, still fixated on the egg. "Were there... more of these?" His voice trembled slightly.

I frowned. "Yeah, I think there were seven in total, but they were huge. So I only took this one."

Lance turned to me slowly, his expression serious, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to expect. "What do you know about dragons?"

My heart skipped a beat. I looked from the egg to Lance, then back again. "Dragons?" I managed, trying to process. "Of course I know! I’ve heard every story—"

Lance laughed, cutting me off, though it was a harsh, almost cynical sound. "Stories," he scoffed. "Yeah, what a bunch of nonsense." He saw the look on my face and sighed, his tone softening. "Most don’t know it, but the World Tree gives more than blessings,” he said with a worried look. “Every few decades, it produces something else. A fruit that’s not actually fruit." He pointed to the egg. "Dragon Eggs."

I jumped to my feet, excitement surging through me. "I want it!"

Lance looked at me like I’d lost my mind. "Are you insane?! Nobody except the royal family is allowed to have one! If anyone finds out, we’ll be dead before morning!"

I opened my mouth to argue, but Lance silenced me with a raised hand. "We’ll deal with that later. For now, let’s check the rest of the haul."

He glanced at the blessings I had laid out. "Smart choice," he muttered. Then he turned to me, his expression serious again. "Pick two."

"What?" I echoed, confused.

Lance sighed like he was tired of explaining everything. "Vamyr can only have one blessing,” he said while raising his arm, showing the marks on his wrist. “But royal Vamyrs?” he continued, this time pointing at the mark on my forehead. “They get two more."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I stared at him, stunned. "I... didn’t know that."

Lance grinned and picked up one of the vials, holding it up to the light. "This one’s the best," he said confidently, tossing it to me. "I’d give everything to have that."

I took the vial Lance tossed me, the smooth glass cool in my hand as I inspected it under the dim light. The smoke inside swirled, almost alive, and I could feel the power contained within. I glanced at Lance, the question already forming on my lips before I could stop myself.

"What does it do?" I asked, turning the vial over in my fingers.

Lance raised an eyebrow at me, his expression surprised.

I could feel my face getting hot at the look he gave me. "I can read the label," I said, gesturing to the inscription etched along the side of the vial. "But I’m not sure what Champion’s Physique actually means."

Lance nodded, his expression softening a little. "It’s a warrior’s blessing," he explained, his voice steady. "It’ll make your body better for battle. An all-rounder skill, you could say. Your endurance, strength, and reflexes—they all improve."

“I thought all blessings did that,” I remarked, curious about what he would say.

“Well, this one’s even better,” Lance shrugged.

I stared at the vial, feeling a mix of excitement and concern. “But you’re a medic, right? Would you really rather have this? Healing people seems way more amazing.”

Lance let out a long sigh, brushing his fingers along the marks on his wrist. His blessing.

"I was born a warrior," he said, his voice carrying a note of bitterness. "I’ve always been good with a sword, better than most, and I thought that if I could get power, real power, I could be free. But the gods saw fit to give me this." He tapped his wrist. "A healing skill. Useful, sure. But all it did was give the nobles another excuse to keep me from honing my real talents."

I looked at him, knowing well what that must’ve felt like—to be given a gift and have it used to keep you down. He caught my gaze and offered a small smile.

“Don’t worry,” he said, the bitterness fading. “Champion’s Physique is good. Not the rarest, but it’s sought after for a reason.”

I nodded, feeling a new certainty settle in my chest. Without hesitation, I pulled the cork from the vial, the sharp scent of the blessing filling the air. I brought it to my lips, swallowing the smoke. It filled me, and suddenly, the world around me seemed to fade as a familiar voice sang in my mind—the same voice that had sung to me when I first touched the World Tree.

His form adapts, no flaw remains,

A body honed through trials and pains,

With will refined, both tough and fierce,

He wields the power of [Champion’s Physique].

As the mark formed on my right wrist, I could feel my body changing, though subtly—like muscles being tightened and skin toughened. It wasn’t overwhelming nor painful, not like before, but it felt permanent, carved into my very soul alongside the other song that played there. When I opened my eyes, I could feel the difference, like I had become more in tune with myself.

I looked at Lance, smiling and feeling proud of myself. “What else should I get?”

Lance gave me a look of mild envy, but there was also a hint of satisfaction in his gaze. He sighed, turning to the other vials. "The rest aren’t as good, but we need every edge we can get." His hand moved over the vials thoughtfully. "Blessings aren’t easy to come by, so we better choose now that we can."

He picked up the first vial, inspecting it briefly before setting it aside. "This one’s Future Sight. It’ll let you catch glimpses of the future, but it’s not always accurate. A bit of a gamble."

I watched as he discarded it, uninterested.

The next vial caught his attention, but he frowned at the label. “I can only guess about what Soul Bond does,” he said, before setting it aside as well.

He grabbed another one, and this time, a smirk tugged at his lips. “Eagle Eyes—probably enhances your literal sight. Could be useful, depending on what you're planning."

Then, he picked up the last vial, and this time, he laughed outright. “Doppel Arms,” he said, shaking his head. “It gives you an extra pair of arms. Sounds ridiculous, I know, but it's actually useful. Imagine combining that with Champion’s Physique."

A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of myself with extra arms. The image was... unsettling. "Yeah, I’ll pass on that one," I muttered, shaking my head to clear the horrifying thought.

Lance chuckled. “So, that leaves you with two somewhat mediocre options and an unknown one.” He shrugged. “I’ll still urge you to choose Doppel Arms, it’s not actually bad.”

Before he could say more, I reached for the vial labeled Soul Bond, my hand steady as I uncorked it. "I’ve always been rather fond of adventures and the unknown," I said, raising it to my lips, much to Lance’s surprise. I could already picture myself with my own dragon, our souls connected. He opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late—I swallowed the smoke-like substance.

Instantly, another song filled my mind, wrapping itself around the other two blessings like a thread weaving through my soul. The voice was still as mesmerizing as before.

Lance stared at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he asked, “What did the song say?”

I could feel the words in my mind along with the others, echoing softly.

"Two souls bound, a tether strong, no place too far, no time too long, where one may roam, the other reflects, their fates entwined by Soul Bond.”

Lance's face darkened, and he looked almost defeated. "I think I know what it is."

"What is it?" I pressed, but there was something in his posture, like he wasn’t sure if he should say more.

“It’s one of the rarer ones,” he said slowly, his voice carrying a reluctant edge. “But it’s not really... that useful. I think it lets you mark someone’s soul. You can always know where the other is, and... how they’re feeling, I guess. But that’s it. No communication, no real connection beyond that."

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Lance let out a short, bitter laugh. “Sure, but all you get is a feeling. You won’t know exactly what’s happening, just that something is. Trust me, Doppel Arms would’ve been more practical. Especially in a fight.”

I could feel the disappointment sinking into me, the regret settling in. Maybe he was right. Maybe I had made a mistake. Lance must’ve noticed, because his expression softened, and he gave me a small, reassuring smile.

“What’s done is done,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “No use worrying over it. Let’s take advantage of what we’ve got. Try it out. Mark me.”

I nodded, still unsure of how to actually use this new power. Standing up, I raised my left hand toward Lance and closed my eyes, trying to feel for the energy within me. The song echoed faintly in my mind, a thread of connection waiting to be pulled. I focused on it, trying to channel the power, but something felt off. A pressure, subtle but firm, nudged me toward a different path, a different hand. Instead of using my left hand, I felt an instinct to push the energy through my right.

Trusting the feeling, I let the power flow, and in an instant, I felt the connection snap into place. A tether, invisible yet strong, formed between us, and suddenly I knew, in a whole different way, where Lance was—how he felt. His presence thrummed in the back of my mind, distant but undeniable.

And then, just as I was getting used to the sensation, a new song hummed softly in my mind, fainter even than the others, but still clear:

Through light's embrace, all wounds shall mend,

A sacred touch that angels send,

With healing grace, both bright and strong,

He wields the gift of [Archangel’s Touch].

I felt a new mark forming, this time on my right hand’s middle finger, and I opened my eyes, startled. Lance was staring at me, wide-eyed, his gaze fixed on his own hand. On his middle finger, a mark I thought I recognized had appeared.

“What…?” I began, but Lance was frozen, not hearing me.

“Did you… did you just…” he stammered, holding up his hand to show me the mark.

I stared at him, equally confused. Somehow, through this bond, something more had been exchanged.