"Entya, you will accompany Lord Nashr. This is an honor for our clan." Eldeghai’s voice was cold and final. There was no room for objection or debate.

Entya did not respond. The word "honor" felt like spit in her face, an insult that burned away her dignity. She raised her head, turning toward Nashr. Her larimar eyes now blazed with a fire of rebellion, challenging him coldly, meeting the man's unblinking amethyst gaze.

She did not see a magnificent commander, a savior, or even a noble. She saw a black hole that wanted to swallow her, seize her freedom, and erase her existence.

"Nashr," Entya called out, her voice sounding far colder and more mature than her age trapped in a small body. It was a mask of steel she wore to protect the devastation beneath it, a shield barely capable of restraining the storm raging in her heart. "You stare at me as if I were your property. You know I possess this body." She spread her hands wide, displaying her shamefully small posture, as if exhibiting her weakness before everyone. "What exactly do you want from me?"

Nashr was unfazed. Instead, he smiled faintly, enjoying the defiance radiating from the girl’s eyes. He did not care if the girl considered him a monster right now. Let the energy speak. Let the resonance that had repeatedly called him explain everything.

He stepped forward calmly, closing the distance between them until Entya could smell his skin—a blend of rich agarwood, warm cardamom, and something else.

His hand extended, the motion slow and measured. For a fleeting instant, a sliver of doubt clouded his gaze, revealing the immensity of the gamble. He was staking the entire purpose of his journey on this single contact. Yet, that hesitation instantly dissolved, overridden by absolute, unwavering resolve. His long fingers reached out for Entya’s trembling hand.

The moment their skin connected, the universe seemed to stop breathing. It was not a painful electric sting, but a flow of warm light that awakened every cell in her body. The vibration traveled from her palm through her entire being, synchronizing her heartbeat with a strange, familiar rhythm. It felt like hearing a melody that had only existed in dreams, or feeling the warmth of the first sun after a long winter. It felt... like home.

The tremor spread from her palm, ascending her arm, flowing into her chest, through her heart, and then spreading throughout her whole body. Her pulse became a frantic, irregular drumbeat, desperately chasing the powerful, strange resonance that overwhelmed her. The air around them thinned, and all other sounds faded, leaving only the rushing energy thundering in her ears. It was a sensation both terrifying and warming, an invisible bond that locked the two of them together.

For Nashr, the touch was absolute confirmation. Like the first drink from an oasis in an endless desert, it was a source of addiction he could not release. The resonance he had felt from afar now exploded into a perfect symphony, flowing from Entya into his veins, proving he had taken the correct action. This was not just about strength, not just about an asset; this was about a wholeness he had only just realized he was missing. The beautiful vibration flowed, soothing his wild soul, filling a void he never knew existed. This was about finding the lost part of himself.

He looked at Entya’s pale face, seeing her pupils widen in shock and confusion, and the wild part of himself, the guardian lion, cheered for it. 'I want you, entirely,' Nashr thought, a declaration echoing in his soul. 'I claim what is rightfully mine.'

Nashr lowered his head, his lips nearly touching Entya's ear. "You will know in Talrakia," he whispered in a low voice.

He withdrew his hand slowly. His fingers purposefully grazed the back of Entya’s hand—an unwanted yet unforgettable subtle touch, a lingering trace—before finally breaking the contact entirely. The sensation of electric shock subsided, leaving a residual burn just as intense, a memory that would continue to haunt Entya.

"Our departure is in two days," Nashr stated, his voice instantly flat and firm, as if the intense contact had never occurred. He turned to Eldeghai, his expression once more the sovereign's mask. "Guard her well."

Eldeghai, his face visibly drained by the intensity of the exchange, immediately followed Nashr's order. "Take Entya, and let her meet no one."

Entya was pulled away toward her dwelling ger by the Salkha warriors, who moved with reluctance. Inside, Entya did not kneel. She collapsed, falling onto the rough mat. One hand gripped her wrist, which still felt warm and burned, the haunting remnant of Nashr’s touch.

Her inner turmoil raged. This was no longer just pure anger, but a frightening confusion. She feared the man, his gaze that seemed to read her soul, and the silent claim in his every movement.

Yet, there was another part of her—the part she hated, the part that shamed her—that could not forget the sensation. The sensation where, for the first time, she felt seen, not as a child or a strange healer, but as... something whole. Something that resonated.

Entya felt powerless. She was trapped, not by the ger walls or the guards, but by the strange echo in her own soul—a bond as terrifying as the promise it carried. A resonance that tied her to an unwanted, yet undeniable, destiny.


Bonus Nashr Illustration