Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~8 min read
Three days later, Sage found it.
She almost missed it—a single line in a text so old the pages crumbled at her touch, written in archaic Latin that took her an hour to translate.
Then she read it again.
And again.
And felt the bottom drop out of her world.
“Thorne,” she said, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. “I need you to read something.”
He looked up from his own research pile, immediately alert to the tone in her voice. “What is it?”
“Just… read this.” She slid the book across the table, pointing to the passage she’d marked.
He leaned over, brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through the translation.
Sage watched the exact moment he understood. Saw his eyes widen, his jaw go slack.
“No,” he said flatly.
“That’s what I said.”
“This can’t be right.”
“I checked it four times. Different translation methods. It’s right.”
Thorne read it aloud, like hearing the words would make them less impossible: “A curse of blood against two houses can only be unmade by blood freely given. A bond between the feuding lines, sealed in magic and witnessed by the gods, shall sever the dark ties and restore what was lost.”
He looked up at her. “A blood bond.”
“A blood bond,” Sage confirmed, her stomach churning.
They stared at each other.
Blood bonds were legendary. Ancient magic, barely practiced anymore. The ultimate magical commitment—binding two witches together at the soul level, merging their magic, extending their lives, linking their very essences.
It was more than marriage.
It was permanent. Unbreakable. Forever.
And it was absolutely forbidden between feuding covens.
“There has to be another way,” Thorne said, already flipping through other texts. “This can’t be the only solution.”
“I’ve been through everything. Every bloodline curse on record. The ones that were broken? Either the caster died, or—”
“Or a blood bond was formed,” Thorne finished grimly. He ran both hands through his hair. “This is insane. Our families would rather die than allow this.”
“I know.”
“A Mitchell and a Thorne, bonded? That’s not just forbidden—it’s unthinkable. It’s the ultimate betrayal.”
“I know,” Sage said again.
“And it’s permanent. No divorce, no separation. Once the bond is sealed, we’d be magically married until death. Probably beyond death.”
“I’m aware of what a blood bond is, Blackwood.”
He stood, pacing. “We can’t tell them. If the Council or our families find out this is the solution, they’ll—” He stopped. “I don’t even know what they’ll do.”
“Probably try to find the caster and kill them first. Take their chances with revenge over compromise.”
“Or they’ll try to force us into it.”
Sage hadn’t thought of that. “They can’t. Blood bonds require consent from both parties.”
“They could make the alternative worse. Lock us in a room until we agree. Let people die until we break.”
The idea made Sage’s skin crawl. Not the bond itself—though that was terrifying enough—but being forced into it. Coerced.
“We need more information,” she said. “Maybe there’s a loophole. A temporary bond, or a partial one.”
“Sage.” Thorne stopped pacing, looked at her directly. “I’ve studied blood bonds. My family has records going back centuries. There are no loopholes. It’s all or nothing.”
“Then we find nothing. Another solution. Something that doesn’t require…” She gestured helplessly. “This.”
“Agreed.”
They dove back into research with renewed desperation.
Hours passed. Sage’s eyes burned from reading by lamplight. Her tea went cold. Thorne ordered food at some point—she ate mechanically, barely tasting it.
Nothing.
Every text said the same thing. Bloodline curses targeting multiple families could only be broken by uniting those families through a blood bond.
As the sun began to set, painting the cabin in shades of gold and amber, Sage finally admitted defeat.
“There’s no other way,” she said quietly.
Thorne slammed his book shut. “There has to be.”
“We’ve been through everything. Multiple archives, centuries of records. This is it.”
“Then the curse wins.”
“What?”
He turned to face her, and she’d never seen him look so defeated. “If the only solution is a blood bond, the curse wins. Because that’s not happening.”
“You’d rather let people die?”
“I’d rather find another way!”
“There is no other way!”
They glared at each other, frustration and fear and exhaustion boiling over.
“You don’t understand,” Thorne said finally, his voice low and rough. “A blood bond isn’t just marriage. It’s everything. My magic would be yours. Your magic would be mine. We’d feel each other’s emotions, share dreams, be unable to lie to each other ever again.”
“We already can’t lie to each other. The wards—”
“The wards are temporary. A blood bond is forever.” He moved closer, intensity rolling off him in waves. “I would know every thought you had about me. Every feeling. Every secret. And you’d know all of mine. There would be no privacy, no walls, no escape. Just us, bound together for the rest of our lives.”
Sage’s breath caught.
Put like that, it sounded less like a solution and more like a prison.
“And that’s if our families don’t kill us for it first,” Thorne continued. “The moment they find out we bonded, we become traitors. Exiled. Cut off from everything we’ve ever known.”
“Not if it saves them,” Sage argued. “They wouldn’t exile us for breaking the curse.”
“Wouldn’t they?” Thorne’s smile was bitter. “You heard your grandmother. She said some things are beyond forgiveness. You think she’ll forgive you for magically marrying a Thorne? For binding our covens together forever?”
Sage wanted to argue. Wanted to say her family would understand, would see reason.
But she couldn’t.
Because he was right.
“So what do we do?” she asked quietly.
“We keep looking. Maybe there’s something we missed, some obscure text—”
“We’ve looked everywhere.”
“Then we look again!”
“Thorne—”
“I’m not giving up, Sage.” His eyes blazed. “I’m not accepting that the only way to save our families is to destroy our lives.”
The honesty wards pulsed, sharp and insistent.
And Sage heard what he didn’t say: I’m not accepting that I have to bind myself to you forever, even to save everyone.
The thought shouldn’t hurt.
They barely knew each other. Two weeks ago, they’d been enemies. The idea of a blood bond should be equally horrifying to both of them.
But it did hurt.
Because somewhere in the late-night research sessions and shared fears and moments of startling honesty, Sage had started to think that being bound to Thorne Blackwood might not be the worst fate in the world.
Which was foolish and dangerous and completely beside the point.
“You’re right,” she said, standing. “We keep looking. I’ll go through the Mitchell archives again. Maybe there’s a family grimoire I missed.”
“I’ll contact some of my father’s old research partners. Witches who specialize in curse-breaking.”
“Good plan.”
They were being professional. Practical.
Completely ignoring the elephant in the room.
Sage gathered her things, needing space, needing to think.
“Sage,” Thorne said as she headed for her room.
She turned back.
He looked like he wanted to say something. His jaw worked, his hands flexing at his sides.
Then: “If it comes down to it. If there really is no other way. I want you to know that I’d—” He stopped, the words clearly catching. “I’d rather face the bond than let you die.”
Sage’s heart stuttered.
“The curse is accelerating,” he continued quietly. “We have maybe three weeks left. If we run out of time, if this is the only option…” He met her eyes. “I won’t let you die because I was too proud to do what was necessary.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not saying I want this. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a disaster. But I’m saying I’d choose your life over my freedom. Every time.”
The honesty wards sang with truth.
Sage couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the thundering of her heart.
“Why?” she whispered.
Thorne’s expression was raw, open in a way she’d never seen. “You know why.”
She did.
Because somewhere between hating each other and working together, between fighting and protecting, between the lies they’d been taught and the truth they’d discovered…
They’d started to matter to each other.
Not as research partners.
Not as means to break a curse.
But as people.
As maybe something more.
“I’d choose the same,” Sage heard herself say. “Your life over my freedom.”
They stared at each other across the cabin, the weight of what they’d just admitted settling like snow.
A blood bond.
Magical marriage.
Forever.
Three weeks to find another way.
Or three weeks until they had to make the most impossible choice of their lives.
“Get some rest,” Thorne said finally. “We start fresh tomorrow.”
Sage nodded and fled to her room.
But as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop thinking about bonds and magic and the way Thorne had looked at her when he said I’d rather face the bond than let you die.
Like maybe forever with her wouldn’t be a prison.
Like maybe it would be something else entirely.
Reader Reactions