THE CONNECTION FORMING

THE CONNECTION FORMING
Tessa's point of view

I had just begun to feel the weight of sleep pull at my eyelids when a strange chill passed through my body. I shot up, wide awake, my breath uneven. Something wasn’t right.

My hands trembled as I pulled the blanket around me tighter. The air inside the room felt still — too still — like the calm before a storm. I rubbed my arms, trying to warm myself, but the cold had settled deep into my bones. It wasn’t physical. It was... something else. Something inside me.

I stood up and walked toward the window. The full moon hung low in the sky, bathing the palace in its silver light. And for a moment, I saw it—faintly—like a ripple in reality. A flash. A heartbeat. A whisper.

Ares.

I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. Something had happened to him.

My chest tightened. A sharp pain lanced through my stomach, and I doubled over. It wasn’t mine—it couldn’t be. This agony didn’t belong to me. I could feel it. His pain. Like our souls were screaming to each other across a distance.

I gasped and stumbled to the floor, my palms pressing against the cold stone. It felt like fire in my veins. I saw fragmented visions—blurs of blood, moonlight, bones snapping. A figure on all fours, eyes wild and golden. I didn’t understand any of it, and yet... I knew it was real.

Was this what Matilda had warned me about? The bond that ties a witch to her destined one? She never explained it in full. She only muttered warnings under her breath—curses carried by blood and fate.

I crawled to my bed and pulled out the feather Arabella had given me. My hand shook as I placed it on my palm. “Lift,” I whispered.

Nothing.

I clenched my fist. I couldn’t help him like this. What was the point of having power if I couldn’t use it when it mattered?

I closed my eyes. My heartbeat was erratic, but I tried to steady it. “Calm down,” I whispered to myself. “Focus.”

I opened my palm again. The feather lay still. But I imagined Ares—his face, his anger, the shadows in his eyes, the kindness he tried to hide. I imagined him in pain, calling out, even if he didn’t say a word.

The feather shifted.

Just a twitch. But enough to widen my eyes.

“Again,” I whispered.

And again, it moved. This time, lifting higher before drifting down.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

The next morning, I was summoned by Queen Arabella, but not for a lesson.

Her eyes were tired, her lips pursed. She said nothing as I followed her through the palace halls, down toward the back gardens, where the forest crept dangerously close to the kingdom’s edge.

“He made it through the first night,” she finally said.

My heart skipped. “Ares?”

She nodded.

“He... he shifted?”

Arabella’s eyes flickered to mine, and I saw something I hadn’t expected — worry. Real, raw concern.

“Yes. And it was unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

I followed her in silence, the wind rustling through the trees. She led me to a small cottage nestled in the woods. Outside it stood Tristan, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and face unreadable. He nodded at the queen but barely acknowledged me.

“He’s still resting,” Arabella said. “You can sit inside. But don’t try to wake him.”

I stepped into the cottage, the wooden floor creaking beneath my feet. The room smelled of herbs, pine, and something metallic—blood, maybe. Ares lay on a makeshift bed, his chest rising and falling slowly. His shirt was torn, his body scraped and bruised, his skin still glowing faintly under the moonlight that peeked in through the window.

I crept closer, kneeling beside him.

He looked peaceful... but I knew better. I’d felt his pain. I reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. His skin was warm, almost feverish.

“I felt you,” I whispered. “Last night. I felt it.”

His hand twitched. I froze.

But his eyes didn’t open.

I sat beside him for a while, letting the silence wrap around me like a cloak. It was strange — being this close, and yet not knowing what to say. Ares had always been a mystery. Guarded, volatile, but there was more to him. There had to be.

If fate had chosen him — if the bond between us meant anything — I had to be strong enough to face it.

Later that day, Matilda found me near the training grounds. She looked displeased, as usual.

“You skipped morning practice,” she said, her tone sharp.

“I... I went to see Ares.”

She sighed, deeply. “He won’t be the last wounded soul you encounter. You must focus.”

“I am focusing,” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I just—last night, I felt his pain. I felt everything.”

Matilda’s eyes narrowed, and for once, she looked genuinely curious. “You felt the shift?”

I nodded.

She walked closer and took my hand, inspecting my palm as if the answers lay hidden there. “This is deeper than I thought,” she muttered. “You two share more than bloodline. The old bond—it’s forming.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Matilda released my hand. “It means your power will grow faster... but so will your connection. You will feel what he feels. And when the time comes, you’ll either rise with him — or fall beside him.”

My throat went dry. “So I have no choice?”

“There’s always a choice. But fate has a way of making its path feel inevitable.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be a witch, or to bear the burden of old magic. But now that I knew Ares was tied to me, I couldn’t just walk away.

That night, I sat outside the cottage again. Tristan stood watch nearby, quiet as the shadows. The moon was only half-full now, but its light still glimmered faintly on the lake beyond the trees.

Ares stirred inside. I could sense it before I even heard it. I rushed in, just in time to see him sit up with a groan.

His eyes met mine — and for a moment, I saw them flash with golden light.

“You’re awake,” I whispered.

He looked around, disoriented. “Where...?”

“You’re safe. In the forest. Near the silver lake.”

He winced, holding his side. “It hurts.”

“I know,” I said softly, moving closer. “But you’re alive. You made it through.”

His brows furrowed. “I remember... blood. Pain. A lullaby.”

That made my heart pause. “A lullaby?”

He nodded slowly. “It calmed me. I don’t know where it came from.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine.

I hadn’t sung anything. But I’d thought of him. Wished for him to be okay. Could... could that have reached him?

I didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

He leaned back, eyes fluttering closed again.

But just before sleep claimed him, he whispered, “Thank you.”

I sat beside him until morning. Watching. Waiting. And wondering what we’d become — together.