River was still just as hopeless with a sword as when he’d started, but he had finally begun to learn how to shield his mind from Kamir’s mental assaults. Today, however, wasn’t about bruises or headaches. Today was about tradition. About learning the lore that shaped the Varoshian people. Kamir had launched into one of his usual lectures. Normally, they veered into cultural history, the sacred rites of dungeon delving, or the teachings of Sylas, the God of Magic. Even the most diligent trainees often tuned out.

  But today was different. Kamir was talking about bonded beasts — creatures linked to the soul of their chosen through essence and ritual. In Varosha, it was a rite of passage. Every citizen who came of age was offered the chance to bond with one. And now, it seemed, so would they. River leaned forward. The mention of the essence-rich eggs near the Council chamber clicked. He remembered touching one. The pulse of energy it gave off now made sense. Most of the eggs birthed lower-tier creatures — wolves, dogs, or similar beasts. Loyal. Combat-ready. But the egg didn’t simply hold a creature. It responded to the person’s soul. Essence alignment, intent, and emotion all shaped what would hatch. Eggs from higher-tier dungeons tended to produce rarer, more exotic bonds. Kamir explained that Myra’s bonded creature—the very dragon that had flown them to safety, had hatched from a high-tier egg. Such eggs were rare, considered gifts from the gods, bestowed to protect Varosha in times of need. Bonded beasts fought alongside their partners, hunted with them, and sometimes even shared thoughts or emotions. Varosha had nearly fifty active bonded warriors. Kamir was one of them. His beast — a towering, black-furred dire wolf named Fangs—had been with him for nearly two decades. “And now,” Kamir said, his voice lowering, “you three will be given the chance to bond as well.” A thrill of excitement ran through the room. River could feel Albert vibrating with anticipation. Kamir continued, “The creatures will choose. If they don’t feel your souls connect, they won’t hatch. They’ll remain dormant until the right soul comes along.” The weight of that statement sobered them — just a little. Albert couldn’t contain himself. He shot to his feet. “When do we try?” Kamir raised a hand, gesturing for calm. “Tomorrow. Everyone over thirteen who hasn’t yet received the chance will undergo the selection process.”

  Then Kamir’s tone shifted, graver. “With danger creeping closer to our gates, we need every edge we can get.” He pointed at Amalia and Albert. “You two may go. Rest. You’ll need it.” They looked puzzled, but obeyed. River, however, remained seated. Kamir walked over and sat beside him. “Bonded creatures respond differently to Primordials,” Kamir said quietly. “The link is deeper. Stronger. Sometimes volatile. It can cause the host or bonded to lose all sense of self—overwhelmed. But with the right bond, it can stabilize your emotions—keep you grounded.”

  Kamir shifted his gaze, fixed on River. “There are records of it—so be careful.” River didn’t respond right away. He remembered the storm, the uncontrolled lightning, the grief that broke his soul open. A bond might help. Or it might make everything worse. Kamir stood and walked away, leaving River alone with his thoughts. Eventually, River rose and made his way back to the house he shared with the others — his mind still buzzing with questions, fears, and one quiet hope.

  He already knew which egg he would seek. The image of its glowing red shell burned in his mind, its essence pulsing, almost alive.

  The rest of the day passed quietly. River, Amalia, and Albert sat together in the kitchen, talking in hushed voices about what the choosing ceremony might be like. None of them really knew what to expect — only that this was a rare opportunity, one they would never have had in the Kingdom. Nerves buzzed beneath their words, but so did excitement. Hope. When the others went to bed, River stayed outside, sitting in the cool sand beneath the stars. He often did this — watching the night sky helped still his mind, helped keep the darker thoughts at bay. The vastness above made his problems feel smaller. Manageable.

  But tonight, his thoughts turned to Emery.

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  He must know something about Primordial bonding. River stood quickly, rushed inside, and grabbed the red book.

  He was already flipping it open as he returned to the sand, breath quick with anticipation. “Do you know anything about soul-bonded creatures?” he asked aloud. Emery’s form emerged slowly, blurry at first, voice groggy with sleep.

  “A little. Why the sudden interest?” River’s heart pounded. His thoughts raced. “I’m going through the ritual soon. What can I expect? What’s different about Primordials? What’s the coolest creature I could get?” For the first time, true emotion flickered across Emery’s spectral face.

  His eyes widened. “They shouldn’t exist anymore,” he said slowly.

  “Soul creatures were thought extinct since the war.” He fell quiet, considering something. Then:

  “You’ll likely bond with something. Primordials were more deeply attuned to beasts.

  Before the war, very few ever failed to form a bond.” River couldn’t speak — awe tightening in his throat. “They’re powerful,” Emery continued. “For Primordials, they weren’t just pets — they were conduits. Soul partners. They helped stabilize essence. Amplify power. Even prevent outbursts. I don’t know much more than that.” River finally found his voice.

  “Really...? I wonder what I’ll get—if I get one.” Emery gave a rare, soft smile. “It will be interesting.”

  Then he faded. River closed the book gently and lay back in the sand, eyes scanning the quiet sky.

  As dawn crept over the dunes, painting the world in gold. River rose, stretching the sleep from his limbs, wonder still heavy in his chest.

  He stepped back inside. “UP!” he shouted, his voice rattling the house. For a beat, silence. Then, surprisingly, neither Amalia nor Albert complained. They rolled out of bed and dressed without protest. Albert and Amalia ate quickly; River only watched. He didn’t speak. Since his transformation, he hadn’t needed food. Hadn’t craved it. That would have once been seen as a blessing. Now he missed the choice, the smell, the taste, the comfort of eating with others.

  When they arrived at the temple, a large crowd had already gathered. At least a few hundred people, all waiting, all watching. The air was charged, a strange mix of tension and thrill. Everyone seemed to feel the same thing; this was a moment that could change everything. A moment when anyone could rise in status.

  Everyone fell silent as Myra’s voice rang out from the temple steps.“Today will be a day to remember. A chance to become bonded. Line up. Follow the stairs.” And so they did.

  River, Albert, and Amalia stood near the center of the long line, shoulder to shoulder with dozens of others. Like everyone else, they waited. The sun climbed higher, and what began in the quiet hush of dawn soon shifted into the heat of midday.

  Five had been chosen already. Five had emerged carrying eggs — more than usual, River overheard someone whisper. Maybe the increase was tied to the growing threat of the shadow creatures. It wouldn’t surprise him. Then it was their turn. Albert went first, disappearing through the ornate doors. River and Amalia stood in tense silence, watching the seconds crawl by. Finally, Albert emerged. Grinning from ear to ear, both arms wrapped around a bright green egg. He held it high, eyes gleaming with pride. Relief blossomed within River. Albert had wanted this badly. Good for him.

  Next was Amalia. She stepped through the door without a word, and River found himself holding his breath. The wait was shorter this time. She returned with a dark blue egg cradled carefully in her arms. Her smile was small but sincere. It warmed him. This was what mattered. What he’d keep fighting for.

  River’s thoughts flickered. The colors matched their affinities. Nature/Green for Albert and Water/Blue for Amalia. Interesting. What did that mean for River? But he had no time to dwell on it. It was his turn. He stepped forward, the doors creaking open as he pushed them. He expected nerves, maybe fear, but instead, there was a strange calm. A pull. He knew where he was going. It wasn’t guesswork. Something tugged at his mind, subtle but insistent, guiding him through the chamber. His steps brought him to the far corner—to an egg glowing faintly red, pulsing with essence. It thrummed brighter as he approached, the warmth of it washing over him like a familiar embrace. It was alive, aware, and waiting for him. River reached out and placed a hand against the shell. He expected it to be cold—but it wasn’t. The egg radiated heat, steady and alive.

  His fingers curled around it—and then he heard it.

  Not a voice—but something deeper.