Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~7 min read
The nightmare yanked Liana out of sleep at 3 AM.
Except it wasn’t her nightmare.
She bolted upright in bed, gasping, her mark burning hot enough to hurt. Through the bond, she felt Kaelen—pain, terror, grief so overwhelming it threatened to drag her under with him.
She was moving before she fully processed what she was doing, throwing on clothes, grabbing her keys. The bond pulled her forward like a compass needle finding north. He was close. Only a few blocks away.
Liana had never been to his apartment, but the bond led her there unerringly. Third floor, corner unit. She pounded on the door.
“Kaelen! Open up!”
No answer. But she could feel him inside, caught in whatever nightmare had them both by the throat. She tried the handle—unlocked—and shoved through.
The apartment was sparse. Functional. Barely lived in. And in the bedroom, Kaelen was caught in his sheets, thrashing, his whole body rigid with tension. Silver light bled from his mark, pulsing erratically. His lips moved, shaping words in a language she didn’t know.
Liana crossed to the bed, climbing on without hesitation. “Kaelen. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
He didn’t respond. The nightmare had him in its grip, and through the bond, Liana could see flashes of what he was experiencing:
A village burning. Bodies in the street. A girl—young, maybe fourteen—screaming for help. Kaelen running toward her, but his feet were too slow, time was too thick, and something made of shadow was already reaching for her—
The girl’s eyes going vacant. The shadow feeding. Her body collapsing.
Kaelen’s scream, raw and broken.
“Kaelen!” Liana grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. “Wake up! It’s not real!”
His eyes snapped open—pure silver, glowing with power. His hand locked around her wrist, and for a second she wasn’t sure he recognized her.
“Liana?” His voice was destroyed. Rough.
“Yeah. It’s me.” She didn’t try to pull away from his grip. “You were having a nightmare. I felt it through the bond.”
Kaelen stared at her like he couldn’t quite process her presence. Then, abruptly, he released her and sat up, scrubbing both hands over his face. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Too bad. I’m here anyway.” Liana settled back on her heels, giving him space but not leaving. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Tough. We’re bonded. Your nightmares are my nightmares.” She gentled her voice. “Who was the girl?”
Kaelen went rigid. “You saw that.”
“Hard not to when it’s playing in surround sound through our connection.” Liana watched his face, the way he was carefully not looking at her. “She mattered to you.”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, quietly: “Her name was Imani. She was my student.”
“Student?”
“Before the marks, before this—” He gestured vaguely. “—I trained young Starborn. Taught them combat, control, survival. Imani was one of my best. Talented. Fearless.” His voice cracked. “Too fearless.”
Through the bond, Liana felt the grief rising, threatening to choke him.
“There was an incursion. Small. Three Wraiths. The Council sent me and four students to handle it.” Kaelen’s hands fisted in the sheets. “I told them to stay back. To let me handle the Wraiths while they evacuated civilians. But Imani—she thought she could help. Thought she was ready.”
“How old was she?”
“Fourteen.”
Liana’s heart broke.
“She engaged one of the Wraiths before I could stop her. It was faster than she expected. Stronger.” Kaelen’s eyes were distant, seeing the past. “I tried to reach her. I was ten feet away. Ten feet. But I wasn’t fast enough.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my job to protect her. To train her properly. If I’d been faster, better, if I’d anticipated—”
“You can’t save everyone.” Liana reached out, covering his fisted hands with hers. “That’s not how the world works.”
“It’s how my world works.” Kaelen finally looked at her, and the anguish in his eyes was staggering. “Every person I train, every person I’m responsible for—their survival depends on me being perfect. And I’m not. I fail. Over and over, I fail.”
“You’re human, Kaelen.”
“I’m Starborn. It’s not the same.”
Liana wanted to argue, but she could feel his absolute conviction through the bond. He’d been raised to believe his worth was measured in lives saved, battles won, perfection achieved. Anything less was failure.
“Is that why you didn’t want the bond?” she asked quietly. “Because you thought you’d fail me too?”
Kaelen’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. She felt the truth through their connection.
“I can’t—” His voice was rough. “I can’t lose another person I care about. I can’t survive it again, Liana. If something happens to you because I wasn’t good enough—”
“Stop.” Liana squeezed his hands. “You need to listen to me, okay? Really listen.”
He nodded, barely.
“I’m not Imani. I’m not your student, or your responsibility, or someone you have to protect from the world.” She held his gaze. “I’m your partner. That means I’m choosing to be in this fight. Choosing to take the risks. And if something happens to me, it’s not because you failed. It’s because war is brutal and people die.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s supposed to make you stop carrying the weight of the entire world alone.” Liana shifted closer. “You’ve been doing that your whole life, haven’t you? Trying to be perfect. Trying to save everyone. Never letting anyone help you carry the burden.”
Through the bond, she felt him fracturing. All those walls he’d built, all that careful control, crumbling under the weight of too much grief held for too long.
“I don’t know how to not be responsible,” he admitted. “It’s all I’ve ever been.”
“Then learn. With me.” Liana pulled him forward, and he came, collapsing against her like a puppet with cut strings. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tremors running through his body. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be here.”
Kaelen’s arms came around her, holding on like she was the only solid thing in a tilting world. His face pressed into her shoulder, right against her mark, and the contact sent warmth flooding through both of them.
“I’m terrified of losing you,” he whispered against her skin.
“I know. I’m terrified too.” Liana’s fingers found his mark, tracing the constellation pattern. “But we’re in this together. That means we carry the fear together too.”
They stayed like that for a long time—wrapped around each other, the bond open and raw between them. Liana felt everything he felt: the grief, the guilt, the bone-deep exhaustion of trying to be invincible. But underneath it, growing stronger, was something else.
Relief. That he didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.
Eventually, Kaelen pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face devastated. But something in his expression had shifted. Softened.
“You should sleep here tonight,” he said hoarsely. “The bond’s too active. You’ll feel the nightmares if you’re not nearby to ground me.”
It was an excuse. They both knew it. But Liana nodded anyway.
“Okay.”
They lay down together, Kaelen’s arms still around her, her head on his chest. The bond settled between them, warm and steady. And for the first time since the marks had appeared, Liana felt them both relax completely.
“Thank you,” Kaelen murmured into her hair. “For coming. For staying.”
“That’s what partners do.”
His hand found hers in the darkness, fingers interlacing. “I’m glad it’s you, Liana. Even with everything else—I’m glad.”
Liana’s throat tightened. “Me too.”
They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other and the bond. And when Kaelen’s dreams started to turn dark again, Liana was there, pulling him back from the edge.
Together.
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