Read Bound by Destiny :: The Drums Beneath the Hills

Word arrived not with a royal courier but with a half-starved shepherd, stumbling into Arathen’s gates with his flock scattered and his eyes wild. He babbled of shadows in the hills east of Veyra, of firelight that moved like a living army, of chanting voices that shook the ground beneath his feet.

By the time the shepherd collapsed, the watchtowers were already signaling the palace.

In the council chamber, the air crackled with unease. Maps were unrolled, scouts dispatched, wards strengthened along the walls. But behind every sharp command, one truth glimmered: The Demon King was not merely playing with fire anymore. He was gathering more pawns.

Aldric, grim-faced, relayed the scouts’ first report to Ethan and Maya personally. “It’s not a raid. Not a band of cultists. He’s calling the broken to his banner. Disgraced mercenaries. Runaway mages. Deserters. He’s forging an army, piece by piece.”

Maya’s stomach tightened. “How many?”

Aldric’s silence was answer enough.

Ethan paced the chamber, restless. “He wants us to come to him. Every village he burns, every life he takes—it’s bait. And if he has an army, then—”

“Then he doesn’t need to bait you,” Aldric cut in. His voice was flat, but his eyes carried something darker. “He’ll march when he’s ready. And he’ll burn more than villages when he does.”

The council had not yet decided whether to send Ethan and Maya. But both knew the answer was inevitable.

That night, as they walked the palace gardens in uneasy quiet, Maya broke the silence. “If he’s raising an army, then it’s not just the Demon King we’ll face. It’s thousands. Do you think… do you think Aeloria can stand against that?”

Ethan didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted over the darkened horizon, where smoke still clung from distant fires. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “I don’t know. It's becoming very clear to me that Aeloria wants us to save their pittiable world but only their way.”

The oath-bond pulsed faintly between them, a tether of heat and ice. Both felt the weight of what was coming, and the cracks already forming beneath their feet. Maya slowed her steps until they stopped beneath the shadow of a marble arch, ivy curling thick around its stones. Lantern light from the palace spilled only faintly here, leaving their faces in half-darkness.

She turned to Ethan, studying him. The fire that usually lived in his eyes seemed muted, banked like coals left too long in the ash. “You don’t trust them anymore, do you?”

Ethan exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “I want to." Ethan punched the air. A bit of heat was behind it but not nearly at the earth shattering levels he exhibited on the battlefield. Truthfully, Maya felt a sadness come from it, feeling that protective urge bubble to the surface again. "Maya, I want to. But every time they look at us, I see it—fear, calculation. Like they’re weighing how much longer we’re useful before we burn out.”

“The council’s words…” Maya whispered, her throat tight. Even people who they believed they could trust--Selora and Aldric--said some fairly demeaning things. “You’re not wrong.”

A silence stretched. Neither wanted to speak aloud what they’d overheard, as if giving it voice would make it sharper, more real. Yet it pressed on them, insistent.

Finally, Ethan broke the silence, his voice quiet but raw. “If they decide we’re more dangerous than The Demon King… what then? Do we fight them? Or run?”

Maya felt the bond between them hum, the pull of his fear and anger bleeding into her chest. She reached out, almost without thinking, her hand brushing his. “We survive,” she said, echoing her earlier words. But this time it was softer, almost pleading. “Together.”

For a heartbeat, Ethan didn’t move. Then his fingers closed around hers, rough and warm, his grip steady despite the turmoil in his voice. The oath-bond flared, not painfully this time, but like a quiet recognition—an answering pulse that neither could mistake.

Maya drew in a shaky breath. “Maybe that’s why we were bound. Not for their war. Not for their plans. But for each other.”

Ethan searched her face, as if looking for something to anchor himself. At last, he gave the barest nod. “Then that has to be enough.”

Above them, the night breeze stirred the ivy. Beyond the palace walls, smoke still smeared the stars. And in the silence that followed, both knew the truth: whatever war The Demon King was raising, they would face it not for Arathen, not for the crown, not Aeloria, but for the bond forged between them in fire and time.

The hush of the garden held them. Beyond the walls, war brewed, but here it was only the soft rustle of leaves, the faint perfume of night-blooming flowers, the warmth of two hands clasped as if the world might fall away if they let go. Maya’s gaze lingered on Ethan’s profile—his jaw clenched against words he wouldn’t say, the faint glow of the bond catching in his eyes like starlight. She felt the thrum of his anger still, but beneath it was something steadier, quieter.

“Ethan,” she murmured, almost afraid of breaking the fragile moment. He turned, and for an instant they were only inches apart, the night pressing close around them. His hand tightened on hers. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone,” she said softly. “I know what it’s like—to have the weight of everything pressing down until you can’t even breathe. But I’m here. You don’t need to shield me from it.”

His throat worked, but no words came. He looked away, out toward the horizon again, though his grip on her hand didn’t loosen. “You think I’m strong,” he said at last, voice low, rough. “But half the time, Maya… half the time I’m terrified I’ll lose control. Of the fire. Of myself. And when I saw what Kaelith did to that village, the rage—” He broke off, shutting his eyes. “I wanted to burn him. Burn everything. That’s not strength. That’s… dangerous.”

Maya didn’t flinch. She stepped closer, so the bond pulsed warm between them. “Dangerous doesn’t mean hopeless. You’ve never turned that fire on me. Never once. Even when you were breaking.”

He opened his eyes, startled at the conviction in her voice.

She smiled faintly, though it trembled at the edges. “That’s how I know. Whatever the council thinks, you’re not a weapon, Ethan. You’re a man trying to carry more than anyone should. And if the bond means anything, it means I’m carrying it with you.”

For a heartbeat, silence again. Then Ethan’s chest eased, just enough, and he let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t quite humor. “You always know how to steady me. Even when I don’t deserve it.”

Her smile grew, gentler now. “Maybe that’s why we were bound.” She felt the phrase worth repeating.

The bond flared once more, not in pain but in resonance, like two notes striking the same chord. Both felt it. Both understood, though neither dared speak what hovered in the space between. At last, Ethan lifted his free hand, hesitated—and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His touch was clumsy, almost hesitant, but tender in a way that stole Maya’s breath.

“Maya…” he whispered, voice unsteady. Her heart hammered. The bond pulsed. And for one fragile moment, standing beneath the ivy and the stars, she thought he might close the distance between them. But the palace bells tolled midnight, shattering the silence. Ethan dropped his hand, and they stepped apart, the spell broken though the warmth lingered.

Neither spoke again as they walked back toward the guest wing. But both knew: something had shifted. Something fragile, dangerous, and impossible to deny.