The mess hall buzzed with life — trays clattering against metal rails, voices overlapping in uneven waves, and the faint hum of the old ventilation system trying to keep up with the press of warm bodies. It was a familiar storm of movement, routine and chaos blended into one.

Jin stuck close to my side as we entered, her gaze sweeping the room like she expected a threat to leap out from one of the tables. Her hand brushed against my arm every few steps, a fleeting, grounding touch that I barely noticed until it was gone. Her tail flicked with a slow, measured rhythm behind her, a telltale sign of her unease.

“Food first,” I muttered, mostly to myself, though I knew she’d catch it. My stomach once again rumbled loud enough to draw her attention.

Jin’s ears flicked toward me, and her gaze lifted to mine with a lopsided grin. Her lips curled just a little at the edges, that faint spark of mischief I’d learned to recognize.

“Don’t say it,” I grumbled, brushing past her toward the food line.

Her grin grew. She didn’t have to say a thing.

The serving line was a gauntlet of tired mercenaries with bottomless appetites and too little patience. Clusters of them jostled for position, shuffling forward in uneven bursts. Boots scraped the floor, trays clattered, and someone muttered something that earned them a sharp elbow from what looked to be Breaker. He didn’t even look back to see if they got the message.

I grabbed two trays from the stack and passed one to Jin. She took it with both hands, her eyes scanning the line like she was still trying to figure out the "rules" of it.

“It’s a free-for-all,” I said, nudging her forward. “Take what you want. Nobody’s gonna stop you.”

Her gaze lingered on me for half a second longer than I expected before she nodded and stepped forward. Her fingers gripped the edge of the tray like she was bracing for a fight.

Once we actually got to the food I focused on loading up. Roasted meat, a thick stew ladled over rice, two skewers stacked with seared cuts of something I didn’t recognize but smelled too good to question. I grabbed a pair of rolls and, after a moment of hesitation, tossed on a piece of fruit just to round things out. My tray was teetering at the edge of "too much," but I wasn’t in the mood to care.

Jin seemingly moved more thought out, her eyes darting between options. She snagged a small loaf of bread, eyed the fruit bin for a moment, and finally plucked one from the stack, before continuing her perusal. Her tray was more balanced than mine — fewer piles, more thought behind each choice.

“Smart,” I said, gesturing toward her tray as we reached the end of the line. “You’ll be eating clean while I’m over here with my ‘just shove it on the plate’ strategy.”

Her ears twitched, and she tilted her head, her gaze dropping to my tray with exaggerated scrutiny. Her eyes flicked back to mine, her lips pressed together in a mock-serious line.

“Don’t judge me,” I said, shifting the weight of my tray. “I’ve earned this.”

We scanned the mess hall for seats. Most of the tables were full of mercs talking loudly, eating too fast, or dragging themselves through whatever post-drill exhaustion hadn’t fully hit them yet. I spotted Viper across the room, already seated with Watcher. Vivi caught my eye and waved a roll at me like a victory flag, grinning wide enough to show teeth.

After responding with a smile of my own I decided against heading for them. Too many people. At the far end of the room, sitting at one of the smaller, quieter tables, was Crone.

Her frame was unmistakable. Even seated, she had the presence of someone who knew exactly where she belonged in every room she entered. Tall, long-limbed, and willowy, her silver-and-gold braid draped neatly over one shoulder like it had been arranged on purpose. Her back was straight, her posture effortless but firm. As basically always she cradled a steaming mug of tea in her hands, the oversized voids of her eyes scanning slowly over the room like she was measuring every person she saw.

“Come on,” I muttered to Jin, tilting my head toward Crone.

Crone’s gaze met mine as we approached, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. It wasn’t suspicion — more like she’d already sized me up, decided I was acceptable, and had nothing else to prove. Her eyes shifted to Jin briefly, taking in the sway of her tail, the sharpness of her horns, and the quiet control in her movements. She didn’t stare, didn’t comment.

“Mind if we join you?” I asked, balancing my tray on my hip.

Crone lifted her mug just slightly, a silent invitation. “Not at all,” she said softly. Her voice was low and calm, like a slow breeze through old branches.

I set my tray down with a quiet clatter and slid onto the bench. Jin sat beside me, her tail curling loosely around her leg. She glanced at Crone once, just once, before she turned her focus to her food. She picked up the piece of fruit she’d grabbed earlier, turning it over in her hands like she was still deciding if it was real.

“You’ve been busy,” Crone said, taking a small sip of her tea. Her eyes shifted from me to Jin, her gaze sharp as ever. “Though I hear that’s par for the course with you these days.”

“Could say that,” I muttered, tearing into the bread roll. The crust crunched between my teeth, and I leaned forward on my elbows as I chewed. “How’s the leg?”

“Functional,” Crone said, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “Medics did their part. Magic the rest. Breaker made it sound worse than it was. Something about ‘a tree snapping in half.’”

“Sounds like him,” I said, snorting. “He has a way with words. Calling the only true elf around a tree.”

Crone’s gaze didn’t waver. She leaned forward, her fingers tapping lightly against her mug. “And you?” she asked, her tone deceptively light. “How are you holding up with... everything?”

Her eyes flicked meaningfully to Jin. I didn’t miss the shift.

“Managing,” I said carefully. “It’s been... a lot.”

“Intense,” she said, like she already knew. “Soul-bonds usually are.”

I froze mid-bite, my eyes snapping to hers. “You can tell?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Her smile was small but steady. “Of course. Even if I wasn’t this attuned to magic, it’d be obvious. You’re not exactly subtle, Raku. You are always leaking magic, even despite your tattoos, after all.”

I frowned, glancing at Jin. She was focused on her food but had slowed her chewing. She wasn’t missing a word.

“It’s been five days,” I muttered, half to myself. “Five days, and it already feels like...”

“Like you’d do anything for her,” Crone finished for me, her gaze soft but sharp as ever. “That’s the bond at work. Amplifying whatever you might have started out at. But it’s not fake, Raku. It’s not something it created out of nothing.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s... fast, though,” I said, my voice low. “Feels fast.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “It’s supposed to,” she said. “That’s what bonds do. They accelerate things that were already there. They don’t create them, but they amplify them.” She leaned back, watching me for a long moment. “But if I had to guess, you’d have done this with or without the bond. You’ve always been like that.”

Her words hit harder than I expected.

“When I saw her,” I muttered, glancing at Jin again, “I saw someone who didn’t have a chance. I thought, maybe this time, I can give someone a chance.”

Crone’s gaze softened in that sharp, ancient way. “You wanted to be the person you needed once.”

The words sank into my chest like stones in water. I reached for Jin’s hand under the table, fingers curling around hers. She blinked, glancing up at me, her eyes warm and loving.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I guess I did.”

Crone sipped her tea, watching me with quiet pride. “Then you’re already doing better than most.”

Her words stayed with me, echoing louder than the clatter of trays and the hum of voices around us.

I glanced at Jin again, taking in the subtle way her posture had relaxed. There was a calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

“I couldn’t let her go,” I finished, my words barely above a whisper. "Hell, medics here said they'’d have put her down."

Crone studied me for a long moment, her sharp void eyes narrowing slightly. “The bond’s part of it,” she said carefully. “But it’s not all of it. You would’ve done this even without the bond—that’s who you are,” she repeated. “Though it is rare to accelerate so far in such a short time. You're basically getting the attachment and emotional bond you'd potentially form in a few months to years shoved into your head in under a week, from what I gather.”

Her words settled heavily in my chest, their weight both reassuring and overwhelming.

“Do you think it’ll last?” I asked, more to myself than to her.

Crone sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. “The bond will,” she said simply. “It’s a piece of your soul wedged into hers and vice versa, quite hard to break something like that. Not that living an existence like that is easy, though. What you build from it is up to you—and her. But if anyone can make it work, it’s you. You managed to get here after all.”

I nodded, her words sinking into my mind like stones into still water. They hit every level on the way down, displacing the quiet doubts I hadn’t been ready to confront.

Crone didn’t press me after that. She simply watched, her presence calm but steady, like the slow ebb of a tide that knew it would return no matter how far it pulled away.

“What about your partners?” I asked, shifting the weight of the conversation away from myself. “How are things at home?”

Her expression softened, a rare warmth lighting her sharp features. “They’re well,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet fondness. “Busy, as always. Daran is overseeing a trade route negotiation in the west. Ryn’s still in the capital, working on a project they can’t tell me anything about—‘classified,’ of course.” She rolled her eyes lightly, and I chuckled.

“And the others?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, more curious than I expected to be.

“Aen and Lira have been fussing over me since I got back,” Crone said with a faint smile. “I think they were more worried about the injury than I was. But you know how they are—always keeping things running behind the scenes, even when they have to remind me to sit still every five minutes to fuss over me.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out,” I said, mirroring her smile. "Then again, you've got several centuries of life experience over me."

“It’s not without its challenges,” Crone admitted, her void eyes glinting with wry humor. “But it works, because we make it work. That’s the key, Raku—finding what works for you and putting in the effort to keep it steady.”

Her words sat with me for a while. I turned them over in my mind, the same way you’d turn a blade to check for flaws.

She made it sound so simple, but I knew better. Things like that didn’t "just work." They took work, constant work, and a willingness to have conversations that never really ended.

Jin shifted beside me, her shoulder bumping into mine. She didn’t look at me, too focused on nibbling at the edge of a piece of fruit. But the subtle press of her body against mine was deliberate. She knew I was thinking too hard again.

“You’ve got your hands full,” Crone said, her gaze flicking between us. “But you’ve always been good at balancing the impossible.”

I let out a huff that was halfway to a laugh. “I don’t know about that,” I muttered, tearing into a skewer. The meat was tough but hot, and that was enough for me.

“You will,” Crone said with a small smile. “Give yourself time, and don’t be afraid to ask for help. 'Centuries of experience' and all that.”

“Pretty sure you just like to flex on us mortals.”

“Of course I do,” Crone countered, eyes sharp with mischief. “What’s the point of being old if you can’t hold it over people?”

That actually got a laugh out of me. Jin looked up, her ears perking at the sound, and for a moment, her eyes lingered on me. She tilted her head, her expression curious but soft.

It was a simple look, but it held a weight I wasn’t ready to address just yet. I squeezed her hand once more.

The three of us sat in companionable quiet for a while after that. No pressure to fill the silence. No need to explain ourselves. Just quiet eating, and the slow, inevitable pace of time moving forward.

By the time I finished my plate, the ache in my muscles had dulled, replaced by the steady hum of contentment. Jin seemed more at ease now, her sharp eyes less guarded as she reached for another piece of fruit. Her tail flicked lazily behind her, curling once around her leg before settling.

I gathered the trays, glancing at Crone one last time.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” I said softly. “For the advice.”

“Anytime,” she replied, her void eyes warm but knowing. “Take care of her—and yourself. Especially after those drills today.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, my gaze flicking to Jin. “I’m working on it.”

Her words followed me as Jin and I left the mess hall. The cool air of the corridor washed over us, a welcome reprieve from the bustling noise of the room behind us. Jin stayed close, her hand slipping back into mine as we walked. I could feel the quiet press of her presence against mine, the way her fingers tapped softly against the back of my hand as if to remind me she was still there.

I glanced down at her, and she looked back, her eyes bright and unwavering.

“You know,” I muttered, half to myself, “I’m starting to think you’re better at this than I am.”

Her ears twitched, and her eyes flared briefly as she contentedly hummed.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes as we kept walking. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

We passed the junction leading toward the training wing, the faint clang of weights and grunts of exertion echoing through the air. Jin briefly looked that way but didn’t linger. Her focus stayed on me.

The ache in my chest was dull but present. Not the pain of today's strain, but something heavier. I kept thinking about Crone’s words, turning them over and over like stones in my hands.

“You wanted to be the person you needed once.”

It wasn’t like it had never crossed my mind. I knew why I’d pulled Jin out of that basement. Knew why I’d brought her home and why I’d fought to keep her. But hearing it said out loud like that made it feel different. Like the thought was no longer just mine.

Her fingers squeezed mine softly, her gaze on me for just a second before she looked ahead again.

I squeezed back, matching her pace, step for step.

We reached the lift that would take us to the upper floors, where my quarters were. The metal door slid open with a soft hiss, and Jin stepped inside first, her tail curling lightly around my wrist as if to guide me in.

The door shut behind us with a soft clunk, and we were alone again.

The faint vibration of the lift moving up hummed beneath my feet.

“Crone’s right,” I said, glancing down at Jin.

Her ears twitched, and she glanced up at me.

“We’ll figure it out,” I murmured, leaning against the wall. “Whatever that looks like.”

Jin leaned into me, her head resting against my side, her eyes falling shut.

The hum of the lift continued, steady as a heartbeat.