Katherine slumped onto a bench in the colosseum’s changing room, pulse still hammering in her ears. Shade’s mate fussed over him, gently licking at the thin, red scratches on his side. The sharp contrast of her silver fur against Shade’s inky coat caught Katherine’s eye, a brief distraction from the throbbing ache beneath her own bruised skin.

  She pressed the cold pack harder against her swollen eye, relishing the sting and numbing chill. “I guess that could’ve gone smoother,” she muttered, offering a crooked grin and swiping sweat from her brow. Her breath came in short, uneven bursts, the air in the room thick with the lingering tang of dust and ozone.

  Earlier, wanting to keep her familiars close, Katherine had asked to be paired with a group. It seemed smart—until she took the brunt of the chaos. Every throb in her eye reminded her of the price.

  “You were awesome out there!” the fight broker hollered, grinning as he tossed a bag of coins her way. The sound bounced around the room, mixing with the fading rumble of Sparky’s earlier thunderclap.

  Startled, Katherine fumbled the catch. Before she could thank him, Sparky zipped forward, wings flapping clumsily. The bag slipped from his grip, both familiar and prize rolling to the floor, scattering dust into the air. Sparky snorted the powder, sneezed, and unleashed a sharp peal of thunder. The noise ricocheted off the stone walls, leaving everyone wincing—Katherine’s ears rang, her memories flickering to old battlefields and sudden explosions. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to focus on the gritty texture of the bench beneath her fingers and the reassuring cold against her cheek.

  Shade and his mate flattened their ears, whining at the harsh sound. A faint haze of dust hung in the air, tinged with the metallic tang of lightning and the earthy smell of disturbed stone.

  Katherine shot Sparky a look, voice clipped and low. “Shoulder only while we’re inside, okay?” She waited for her hearing to settle, working to keep her tone steady, even as her nerves sparked along with the lingering static in the room.

  A knock broke the tense silence. The broker, still trying to massage life back into his eardrums, turned stiffly toward the doorway. “Need something?” he said, voice a notch too loud.

  Katherine tried to lighten the mood, her laugh shaky. “Wasn’t me this time, promise.” She paused, noting the new arrival’s blend of guard armor and clerical robes.

  The newcomer hesitated, caught off guard by her joke. “I’m here for her,” he managed, nodding at Katherine. “If you’re the ‘Lady of the Skies’—like the announcer called out. Not every day someone brings animal friends to the arena.”

  Katherine remembered hearing the phrase as she left, but she’d assumed it was aimed elsewhere.

  “Name’s Archbishop Soren,” the man said, bowing his head a little. “My lord wants me to give you something.” He pulled a small box from his satchel, holding it out with a quiet reverence that prickled Katherine’s skin with new suspicion.

  “Why?” Katherine asked, looking at the box cautiously. “Can you tell me what it is?”

  Soren, empathetic to Katherine’s caution. “The best the members of the clergy can tell it as a simple bracelet.”

  “How would I have caught your ‘Lords’ attention, and who is he?” Katherine asked, opening the box. Inside was as the priest said a ‘simple bracelet’. A band of iron imbedded at the apex of the curve is what looks like a ruby; she gently touches it.

  [Item] Band of the Unseen Legion

  A simple band made to store or capture living things. This band, made by a war elemental, has a large dimensional storage space .

  [Requirements]

  Soulbound

  Katherine was not well-versed in the price of magical items often opting for the non-magical version as most of the treats she keeps for Shade leaked out some kind of magic and didn’t want to accidentally hurt him if he tried to sneak a treat or three— especially in the early days.

  The clergyman decided to answer Katherine’s question. “My lord is my god,” he explained in a way of giving small bible study. “However, he seems to think that you will be in some kind of conflict soon and wished to give you and your companions an edge.”

  ...

  Katherine left the arena, her mind still reeling from the priest’s cryptic words. Who would want to target her—and why?

  As she pondered the possibilities, she walked past a dim alleyway. At first, nothing seemed unusual, but Shade suddenly darted down it, his mate following close behind.

  He sniffed the air, alert, as if catching the scent of someone familiar. “Shade, come on,” Katherine called, trailing after them. “We don’t have time for you to beg for treats.”

  Her concern grew when Shade began licking someone huddled in the shadows. “Shade, not everyone wants to be licked,” she groaned, imagining what that abrasive tongue might be picking up.

  “Katherine? Is that you?” came a voice—small, tired, and heavy with disappointment.

  Katherine gently moved Shade aside to see who was hidden beneath the hood. It was Lira. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her fingertips and knuckles scraped and bleeding. What little Katherine could see of Lira’s hair looked ragged, as if she’d tugged at it in frustration. “Oh, Lira,” Katherine murmured, pulling her friend into a comforting embrace.

  With Shade’s steady presence, Katherine helped Lira to her feet. Together, they slipped through the city’s shadows, arriving unnoticed at Katherine’s dormitory room.

  Since moving in, Katherine had transformed her room into a sanctuary for her familiars. One half was ordinary—bed, dresser, and closet—but the other half was enchanted: a miniature mountain peak for Sparky, complete with shimmering snow at the summit and rolling thunderheads overhead. Rain drizzled down the slope, feeding into a winding river and pond. Shade’s domain was a shadowy glen, with illusionary creatures flitting about, enticing Shade and his mate into spirited chases.

  Lira watched as a small creature leapt from Katherine’s shoulder to the mountain landscape, her brow furrowing in confusion.

  “Uh, Katherine?” Lira said, wiping her nose.

  “Yeah?” Katherine replied, filling a teapot with water from the pond.

  “What was that?” Lira asked, pointing to the miniature mountain where the creature had landed.

  “That’s Sparky,” Katherine said with a fond smile. “Don’t worry about him. You know how dragons are—he’s probably just guarding his treasure.”

  “You have a dragon—and he has a hoard?” Lira replied, incredulous. When had Katherine gotten a new familiar, or found time for all these magical renovations?

  Looking closer, Lira realized each side of the room was designed as a perfect habitat for Katherine’s companions. Sparky’s mountain had snow and thunderclouds, with rain trickling to a pond, while Shade’s glen was alive with illusions for hungry, playful chases.

  “It’s pretty impressive,” Katherine said, sitting beside Lira on the bed as the kettle started to whistle. “Should I ask why I found the duke’s daughter hiding in an alley, looking so distressed?” Her tone was gentle, but her concern was unmistakable.

  Lira sniffled. “Honestly? I was looking for you.” Katherine blinked, confused and surprised, but held back her questions as Lira continued. “Do you remember our talks about my magic—about my deal?”

  “I remember a little. You made a bargain, right?” Katherine asked.

  Lira nodded. “The deal was simple: give me the magic to save someone, and I’d do anything in return.”

  Katherine shivered at the phrasing, recalling ghost stories from her own world, none with happy endings. “Who was it?” she asked gently.

  “Corin,” Lira admitted. “He was only five. One summer, we were swimming in a stream near the estate. I was just starting to learn magic, since I’m not Osric’s legitimate daughter, and I’ll never inherit the ducal seat. Corin got tired and sank beneath the water. I managed to pull him out, but my magic wasn’t enough to clear his lungs. That’s when my patron appeared. I didn’t know who—or what—it was, but it offered to help.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “So how does that connect to me, and why I found you in that alley?” Katherine asked.

  Lira hesitated, searching for words. “My patron wanted me to recruit someone—someone whose secret, if revealed, could cost them their life. I’ve been testing my patron’s patience by not complying.”

  “You mean me?” Katherine asked, as the kettle began to boil and squeal.

  “Yes,” Lira admitted softly. Katherine poured hot water into two cups and handed Lira a teabag. “In my coven, you’d be called a deathwalker. That usually means things like zombies, vampires, liches—the typical undead who isn’t supposed to feel much. But you’re different. We’re friends, and you’ve even stood up to my patron. That’s why it wants you to join.”

  Katherine blew on her tea, considering. “I suppose your morals are what stopped you—and why you’ve been distant lately.”

  “To the point I am losing my magic,” Lira confirmed.

  Katherine’s heart clenched as she watched Lira, who looked so small and lost in the lamplight of her enchanted room. Of all the things that could unravel Lira—her pride, her position, her secrets—it was the threat to her magic that seemed to hollow her most. For Lira, magic was breath and shield, the core of her identity as an adventurer. Without it, how could she fight, how could she belong? Katherine remembered glimpses of Lira practicing sword forms: graceful, determined, but always with the undercurrent of power humming at her fingertips. Now, with that current waning, Lira’s confidence appeared to drain away too.

  Lira’s eyes flickered to the floor, shame and fear mingling on her bruised features. “It’s because you’ve died—several times,” she murmured, finally answering Katherine’s unspoken question. The words hung heavy between them, dredging up the shadowy depths of Katherine’s own past. Katherine felt herself slipping toward that darkness, but Lira’s gentle, almost desperate explanation pulled her back. Lira needed understanding, not pity.

  Setting her teacup down on the dresser with deliberate care, Katherine turned to face Lira fully, her concern etched plainly in her expression. “Are you steady enough to stand?” Katherine asked, her tone soft but firm, a thread of urgency woven through her words.

  Lira blinked, startled by the question and the intensity behind it. “I… I think so,” she replied, confusion overtaking her wariness as she pushed herself upright. “Why do you ask?” The uncertainty in her voice revealed how fragile her world had become.

  Instead of answering, Katherine’s gaze slid toward her familiars. She clicked her tongue twice, the sharp sounds echoing like a signal through the magically charged air. Shade and his mate instantly ceased their playful chase and padded over, ears pricked, senses alert. Dropping to one knee, Katherine reached out to Luna—Shade’s mate—her fingers gliding gently behind Luna’s ear, then scratching beneath her chin. She drew comfort from the familiar, silken texture of Luna’s fur, a small anchor against the gathering tension.

  “Luna, I need you to keep an eye on him,” Katherine said quietly, nodding toward Shade. “He always manages to find trouble, and I’d trust you to steer him clear of it. Roland and Abbie can find you both the best treats, I promise.” Katherine’s voice trembled with a warmth that barely masked her worry, each word a subtle plea for cooperation—and perhaps a hint of farewell.

  Lira watched the exchange anxiously, sensing the undercurrents of goodbye. “Katherine, what are you doing?” she pressed, her tone high and brittle. Something in Katherine’s preparations made Lira’s chest tighten, as if she were about to witness a painful parting.

  Katherine forced a small, unconvincing smile. “Nothing dramatic. Just making sure things are in place—making the grass grow,” she lied, the childhood phrase slipping out as a shield. Lira, no stranger to the false brightness in her friend’s eyes, grew even more uneasy, but Katherine pressed on. “Luna, would you drop your illusions for me—just for a while?”

  The atmosphere shifted, the magical threads in the room humming in response to Katherine’s request. Luna tilted her head, eyes reflecting the ghostly light. In the past, Luna had helped Katherine lay magical contingencies—hiding escape routes, disguising the room’s boundaries—especially when Shade was hunting. Dropping all illusions now would expose vulnerabilities, perhaps even secrets meant to shield Shade and the others. Luna’s refusal was silent but resolute; she shook her head, the gesture slow and deliberate, her fur bristling with protective energy. Katherine recognized the answer instantly: without a bond, she could not command Luna—only ask.

  Then, for the first time, Luna’s presence brushed against Katherine’s mind—a cool, silvery sensation, as if moonlight pooled inside her thoughts. No, it will hurt my mate. We hunt with you. Luna’s voice was gentle but unwavering, resonating with instinctual loyalty. Shades of memory flickered through the mental link: Shade’s brush with death at the jaws of the forest drake, the soul-deep pain that still haunted him. Luna feared that removing the illusions would expose Shade, would risk more harm than any temporary safety could buy.

  Katherine’s breath caught as she felt the lingering sorrow and stubborn love threading through Luna’s aura. The air between them thickened with unshed magic—a tension that tingled along Katherine’s skin, prickling like static as she realized Luna would not relent. There was no way around this except trust.

  With a sigh, Katherine met Luna’s gaze, steady and searching. “All right, then. Give me your paw,” she said softly, her voice carrying a tremor of hope and resignation. Katherine reached out, her fingers wrapping around Luna’s outstretched paw, feeling the pulse of warmth and shared anxiety there. She concentrated, summoning her aura—a gentle, tingling radiance that spilled from her chest and down her arm. The energy pulsed between them, cool and electric, weaving through the air like fog laced with stardust. I hope this isn’t a mistake, Katherine thought, her uncertainty fluttering in the magical current.

  A flash of amusement echoed back along the link, Luna’s mental tone both affectionate and reprimanding. I heard that, Luna chuffed, her presence brushing warmly through Katherine’s thoughts, steadying her resolve. The bond—tenuous but real—settled between human and familiar, layering the charged space of the room with a fragile sense of unity.

  You have bonded with [Mirage Dire Panther]

  You have gained skill [Mimicry]

  You have gained skill [Double Trouble]

  “Katherine, seriously what are you doing?” Lira asked, as Luna dropped her illusions that had been hiding weapons, armor, and packs of supplies. “Where did you get all of this?”

  “Your family pays me well compared to what normal people earn,” Katherine said as she placed packs into the band of the unseen legion. “As for what I am doing. Well, in my country there was a running joke in military circles that we only had two branches, the army and the navy. I guess I’m going to show your coven why the marines are considered a cult.”

  ...

  On the edge of the Forgotten Fields, where the Starwrought coven trained its initiates, a solitary figure stood watch. Their cloak enveloped their entire body, obscuring any hint of gender. Across their face, a raven-shaped mask—identical to the one worn by their mysterious patron—marked their elevated status within the coven. A brooch, also carved in the likeness of a raven and wrought in silver and black, fastened the cloak securely at the neck.

  The figure turned as a portal shimmered open nearby—a clear sign of advanced magical mastery. Multiple figures stepped through, their movements purposeful. Like a cult gathering before a sacred rite, the assembled followers knelt in unison and addressed their leader: “We greet the High Raven.”

  The High Raven surveyed the congregation. “It seems we’ve had a tenet broken,” the leader announced, voice echoing across the silent field. “Nightblade Hollowcrest, inform the congregation what has transpired.”

  Nightblade Hollowcrest rose, stepped forward, and stood beside the High Raven, the gesture formal and respectful. “Moongazed Wynford came to my home with a personal dilemma of loyalty and sought a second opinion. I obliged,” the Nightblade explained. A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd. While it was not unusual for a member of lower rank to seek counsel from someone higher, Wynford’s approach was unexpected—Moongazed were arcane specialists, whereas Nightblades were warriors, two ranks apart and trained along different paths. Nightblades focused on combat and exorcism, while Moongazed honed their magical prowess.

  “Our patron sought to recruit Wynford’s friend—a request understandable to most. Yet Wynford hesitated, not wanting to muddy the waters of friendship, as the rites required for advancement are not for the faint of heart. After some encouragement, Wynford revealed that the ‘friend’ our patron wished them to recruit was a deathwalker. An undead. An abomination.”

  The murmurs grew louder among the Nightblades. As enforcers for the coven, they were trained to keep undead at bay; their traditions forbade the presence of such beings, regardless of perceived harmlessness, due to the dangers they posed.

  “We must cleanse the abomination,” declared one Nightblade. “We return the soul.”

  One by one, the Nightblades stood, summoning portals that shimmered with magical energy. Each portal led to their destination: Wynford Manor, the source of the abomination they had vowed to confront.

  ...

  “You can’t be serious,” Lira exclaimed, her voice pitched high with disbelief as she stepped into the pyreling pen beside Katherine. The air inside shimmered with heat, and the scent of singed straw mingled with the sharp tang of magic. At the center, the blue pyreling snorted, sending curling wisps of flame from its nostrils; its scales of shale glimmered like molten sapphire, each movement casting flickers of azure light on the rough wooden walls. Katherine, intent and unflinching, slipped the reins over the creature’s head, her fingers brushing against scales that radiated both warmth and danger.

  “I’m always serious when it comes to fun and war crimes,” Katherine replied, a tight smile on her lips as she pushed open the battered barn door, letting the pyreling’s fiery silhouette emerge into the morning haze. From outside, the distant crackle of magical wards could be heard, and Lira hesitated at the threshold, eyes wide with awe and uncertainty.

  “I’m still not sure what those are,” Lira admitted, glancing back and forth between Katherine and the restless pyreling. Her heartbeat thrummed in her chest, torn between concern for her friend and the allure of the unknown.

  “You’ll see," Katherine emphasized, her voice steady but her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the pyreling’s mane. The creature’s gaze met hers—intelligent, wary, and smoldering with arcane power. Katherine’s mind raced with doubts about whether she could forge a bond so soon after her last, the weight of unfinished magic pressing at the edges of her consciousness. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her resolve, while Lira watched anxiously from the pen’s shadow, admiration and fear mingling in her expression.

  The bond was harder to form than Katherine anticipated. A sudden chill prickled down her spine, and just as she wondered why, the answer revealed itself in the uneasy tension that rippled through both woman and beast—a warning that the magic between them was not yet ready to settle.

  [Notice]

  The last contract has not settled in the soul. Further expense to complete a new contract before the last one has settled may cause unseen effects on new familiar.

  “Damn,” Katherine said, never seeing that prompt before. “Apparently there is a limit to how many I can bond with a time.”