The air in Eldralore had shifted since their encounter with Madame Seraphine, the shadows retreating, if only slightly. Zia found a small sense of peace, though she knew it was temporary. Still, she allowed herself a few days of reprieve, focusing on smaller tasks, gathering supplies, and listening to the distant hum of Leon's voice in her mind. She had grown accustomed to his presence, like a constant companion who had become part of her routine. But lately, there was something different about him, something in the way he spoke that felt… closer, more personal.
Zia was sitting on a large tree root one evening, her dagger balanced across her knees as she looked out over the darkened landscape. She absentmindedly thumbed the edge of the blade, her mind half-listening as Leon's voice wove through her thoughts, gentle and thoughtful.
"You've changed since we met," he said quietly. There was an intensity to his tone, a warmth that took her off guard.
Zia blinked, a small laugh escaping her. "You mean I'm less reckless now?"
He chuckled softly. "Maybe a little. But you've grown in ways I didn't expect. You're… more determined, stronger. Braver, even."
She tilted her head, glancing down at the amulet around her neck where she could feel his spirit resting. "I was always brave, Leon. It's called surviving."
"No, it's more than that," he insisted, his voice soft yet unyielding. "I've known a lot of people, but no one quite like you."
Zia shifted uncomfortably. Leon's words felt too close, too personal. She had been careful to keep her distance from him, to treat their connection as simply a means to an end. After all, her goals didn't leave room for distractions—or attachments.
"Look," she said, her tone light as she tried to brush off his words, "you don't have a choice, remember? You're bound to me. It's not like you're here because you want to be."
But even as she said it, she could sense his disappointment, his presence quieting. Zia's pulse quickened slightly, a strange pang settling in her chest. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the familiar weight of her dagger. But her mind kept drifting back to the way he had spoken to her—as though she was more than just a thief, more than a person using him for his knowledge.
After a long silence, Leon's voice returned, quieter, more subdued. "Maybe at first, I was bound to you against my will," he said, his tone layered with emotion, "but somewhere along the way, I chose to stay. You know, Zia, I don't have to be in your thoughts all the time. I could disappear, pull back if I wanted. But I… I don't want to."
Zia felt herself stiffen, a sudden awareness settling over her. She realized now that Leon was watching her, listening to her every thought and breath, and not just out of obligation. The way he lingered in her mind, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her—it was deliberate, intentional.
"Leon…" she began, unsure of what to say. But he cut her off gently.
"I know this is strange for you," he said, almost as if he had read her thoughts. "But ever since we met, you've been more than just a means to escape. You've given me purpose again, something I haven't felt in a long time."
Zia swallowed, her chest tightening. She had heard words like these before—words laden with meaning, with emotion—and they had always led to trouble. Attachments made people vulnerable, and vulnerability was a weakness she couldn't afford. Especially now, when she was so close to finally unearthing Seraphine's secrets and breaking free from her past.
"Leon, this…" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "Whatever you think this is between us—it's complicated. I don't do attachments. They only lead to trouble."
He was silent for a moment, and she thought maybe her words had hit their mark. But then his voice returned, softer, almost wistful. "I understand that better than you know. I've spent lifetimes bound to people who treated me like nothing more than a tool. But with you, it's different. I'm here because I want to be, Zia. Not because I have to."
She felt a pang of something unfamiliar—guilt, perhaps. She hadn't intended for him to become this attached, hadn't wanted him to see her as anything other than the thief she was. "Leon… You know my life. I steal, I run, I disappear. I'm not the person you think I am."
"I know who you are," he replied quietly, his voice unwavering. "You're Zia, the woman who defies expectations, who risks her life for the sake of freedom, who doesn't give up even when the odds are against her."
Zia felt herself blush, which only made her more irritated. She had spent her entire life being careful, distancing herself from anything that might complicate her purpose, her freedom. But here was Leon, a spirit bound to her, seeing her in ways she had tried so hard to keep hidden.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. "I don't have the luxury of letting someone close. Every time I do, it ends badly."
Leon was silent, and she thought maybe she had finally pushed him away. But then his voice returned, softer, almost like a caress. "I know you're afraid, Zia. But I'm not asking for anything more than what you're willing to give."
Her heart tightened, a strange warmth spreading through her. She hated that he had this effect on her, that his words could make her feel things she had buried long ago. She shook her head, trying to focus on her mission, her freedom, anything but the way his voice seemed to wrap around her like a comforting embrace.
"I don't do romance, Leon," she said finally, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I don't do connections. It's too risky, and I can't afford distractions. Not now."
He sighed, a sound filled with resignation yet tinged with an underlying hope. "I'm not asking for romance, Zia. I'm just… here. However you need me to be."
His words lingered, filling the space between them with an unspoken promise. And as much as Zia tried to ignore it, she couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, his loyalty, his quiet, unwavering affection.
They sat in silence, the night stretching on, but Zia could feel Leon's presence beside her, warm and steady, as though he were right there, a constant source of support she hadn't realized she needed. She didn't want to admit it, but his words, his loyalty, had begun to chip away at her carefully constructed walls.
You're letting him get too close, she warned herself, a chill running down her spine. You know how this ends.
But even as she tried to pull away, she couldn't shake the feeling that Leon's loyalty wasn't a weakness—it was something more. And in the quiet of the night, as they sat together in silence, she wondered if perhaps, just this once, she could allow herself to believe in it, if only for a fleeting moment.