Zia had always thought of herself as resolute, someone who never let emotions dictate her actions. But as the days went by, Leon's presence lingered in her thoughts more than she cared to admit. She felt herself drawn to him, as though his quiet kindness was wearing down the armor she had spent years building. Yet, every time her mind drifted toward him, she reminded herself of the dangers of attachment. She was a thief, a loner by choice and necessity, and Leon was… complicated. He was tied to her, bound by an ancient enchantment, and giving in to these feelings would only lead to pain.
One evening, as the stars began to dot the sky above Eldralore, Zia sat by the campfire, lost in thought. Leon's voice broke her reverie, as gentle as the night breeze.
"You're quieter than usual tonight," he observed. "Are you still thinking about Seraphine's curse?"
Zia's fingers traced the edge of the amulet absently. "Seraphine's curse, the prophecy… all of it. It's like I'm tangled in webs I didn't even know existed." She paused, hesitating before adding, "And you don't make it any easier, Leon."
Leon's silence was thoughtful, and when he spoke, his voice was careful. "Do I make it harder because I'm here or because… of something else?"
Zia clenched her jaw. She hated how well he could read her. It was as though he knew her better than anyone, even herself. "You're here because you have to be," she said curtly, her voice sharper than she intended. "That's the whole point of this cursed bond."
"But you know that's not the only reason I stay," Leon countered, his tone gentle but unwavering.
Zia's pulse quickened, frustration boiling up. "Don't make this into something it's not, Leon. You're… you're a spirit bound to me, and I'm a thief trying to survive. That's all this is. Don't complicate it."
There was a long silence, and Zia felt a pang of regret. But she had to be firm. Emotions were a luxury she couldn't afford. Just as she was about to apologize, Leon spoke, his voice softer, almost wounded.
"I'm sorry if my presence feels like a burden to you, Zia. I just… I wanted to be here for you, even if it was only in spirit."
His words cut through her defenses, and she found herself unable to respond. She knew she had hurt him, yet a part of her was relieved that he wasn't physically there to see the confusion and turmoil in her expression.
After a few minutes, Zia took a steadying breath and decided to change the topic. "We need a plan to find Seraphine's lair. If we can break the curse on you, then you'll finally be free."
Leon's voice grew serious, as if he, too, was grateful for the distraction. "Seraphine doesn't give up her secrets easily. And even if we find her, she might demand something more than we're willing to pay."
"Then we'll just have to be smarter than her," Zia replied, her voice hardening with determination. "I've gotten this far on my own. I'm not about to let her or anyone else keep us trapped."
The campfire crackled softly as the night grew darker, and they fell into silence, each lost in their thoughts. Zia could feel Leon's presence as a faint warmth, like the glow of embers, but she forced herself to ignore it. She couldn't let herself be swayed, couldn't allow her heart to grow attached to someone who wasn't truly hers. Leon was her ally, nothing more. She would break his curse, free him from his binds, and then…
Then what? The question lingered, unanswered, in her mind.
---
The following morning, Zia was jolted awake by a sharp, unsettling sensation, as if something cold had brushed against her. She sat up, scanning the clearing, her hand instinctively going to her dagger.
"Zia," Leon's voice warned, "we're not alone."
Emerging from the shadows, three figures clad in black cloaks appeared, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods. Their movements were silent, fluid, like shadows coming to life. Zia recognized them immediately—they were part of Seraphine's network, her eyes and ears in Eldralore.
"Looks like you've made some powerful enemies, thief," one of them sneered, his voice low and menacing.
Zia's grip tightened on her dagger, her body tense and ready. "I've made friends in low places too," she retorted, forcing her tone to stay calm. "So unless you want to end up regretting this, I'd suggest you disappear."
The men laughed, advancing on her with practiced ease. Zia's heart pounded, her mind racing as she tried to anticipate their moves. But even as her muscles coiled, ready to strike, she felt Leon's presence strengthen beside her.
"Zia, stay focused. I'll guide you," he whispered, his voice grounding her.
As the men lunged, Zia moved in sync with Leon's voice, her movements precise and calculated. She ducked, parried, and struck, her dagger flashing under the dim light. She fought with a ferocity that surprised even her, her actions swift and ruthless. With Leon's guidance, every movement felt like a dance, each step perfectly timed.
But just as Zia thought she had the upper hand, one of the cloaked figures stepped back, pulling a vial from his robe and tossing it at her feet. The vial shattered, releasing a thick, choking smoke that blinded her. Zia stumbled, coughing as her vision blurred.
"Zia, get out of there!" Leon's voice rang with urgency.
She tried to retreat, but the smoke disoriented her, and her limbs felt sluggish. She barely had time to react as one of the figures grabbed her, twisting her arm behind her back and pressing a blade to her throat.
"Any last words, thief?" the man taunted, his grip tightening.
Zia's mind raced, but the fog clouded her thoughts. She could feel Leon's presence like a frantic heartbeat, his desperation mirroring her own.
"Zia, focus on my voice," he said, his tone steadying. "You're stronger than this. Don't give up."
Drawing on the last of her strength, Zia kicked backward, catching her captor off guard. As he stumbled, she twisted free, rolling to the side and snatching up her dagger. She moved on instinct, her body responding to Leon's guidance, and within seconds, she had disarmed her attacker and forced him to the ground.
The other figures had disappeared, leaving her alone with the man beneath her, gasping for breath. She pressed the dagger to his throat, her eyes cold.
"Tell Seraphine I'm coming for her," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous.
The man's eyes widened in fear, and Zia let him go, watching as he scrambled to his feet and vanished into the shadows. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, her heart pounding in her chest.
Leon's voice broke the silence, gentle and reassuring. "You did well, Zia."
She nodded, swallowing hard. "Thanks. Couldn't have done it without you."
There was a pause, and she felt the weight of his gaze, though she couldn't see him. "You never have to be alone in this," he said softly. "Not anymore."
Zia forced herself to smile, though her heart ached. "I appreciate the help, Leon. But we both know this is temporary. I'll break the curse, and then… you'll be free."
His silence stretched on, and she could feel his quiet sadness, the unspoken words that hung between them. But Zia turned away, focusing on the path ahead. She couldn't afford to let herself feel anything more—not for him, not for anyone.
She was a thief, a wanderer with no ties, no attachments. And that was how it had to stay, no matter how much her heart whispered otherwise.