As I walked slowly down the familiar stone steps, the sickly glow of the lanterns felt more haunting than usual. My gaze strayed to one of them for a moment, and my stomach churned violently; clenching my jaw, I dragged a steadying breath through my gritted teeth and focused on my descent into the darkness of my basement laboratory.

The night had gone far differently than I expected when I departed the Hedquist manor. I had been tailing this one for weeks- months- and all of that careful tracking and research had been torn apart by a couple of lucky trappers. I should have been more cautious, been more heavy-handed with that loose-lipped shopkeeper; it must have been too obvious I was after high class prey. I shuddered to think of what would have happened if I hadn’t been able to reach that disgusting auction house in time.

Luckily my family name was all that was needed to insert myself into a place like that. They respected- or feared- my grandfather enough that nobody would question any demands I made. Still, it hurt my pride to waste so much money when I had been the one to flush the little arcanist out of hiding in the first place.

I let a soft sigh leave me, forcing my tight jaw to relax. My neck already ached, and I had no reason to hasten the migraine digging its claws into the edges of my mind. I could feel it tugging, a sharp pain which would no doubt soon overwhelm me; there was already a faint glow at the edges of my vision, unnerving dim spots chasing my field of view every time I shifted my gaze. The light of the lanterns was aggravating, even the faint luminescence burning my eyes.

Groaning, I reached my hand out to the wall, feeling the rough stone tug at my skin. As my fingers brushed into an alcove, running over the sharp edges of sigils carved into the stone, I felt the tug of alchemical magic. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, skin prickling as it slid over my skin like oil. I closed my eyes, pushing my skin against the edges of the stone carvings until I felt it tear flesh, blood seeping onto the sigil.

In the blink of an eye, the glow of the lanterns gave out, plunging the stairwell into complete darkness. It was a relief to me- but I heard a startled sound closer behind me than I expected, a frantic scuff against the stone as the little arcanist caught his balance. I couldn’t help the faint smirk as I imagined his shocked expression filtering into indignant anger.

Though I knew there was an inherent danger to it, I allowed the bond I had created between us to draw from me. The pressure in my head grew, a throbbing at my temples that radiated across my forehead, as the dim glow of the leash’s metal links increased. I narrowed my gaze, expecting the luminescence to sear my eyes. It was a pleasant surprise to find it didn’t irritate me at all, my gaze drifting to where the chain coiled around my hand, intangible but undeniably attached to me.

My smirk widened as I heard the faint murmur of the arcanist’s voice muttering curses at my expense. It took effort to release my natural control of the bond, but I allowed the chain to extend further between us, each new link produced dragging at my consciousness. It wouldn’t kill me if he took longer to decide if he was going to follow me or not… but I hoped he didn’t wait for long.

I continued down the stairs, and in the silence, I heard the echo of footsteps start to follow behind me. Slowing my pace slightly, the tension in my head eased as I allowed the little arcanist to catch up, and he was right behind me when my feet hit the basement floor.

Though I knew there was a small circle of runes inscribed on the wall just past the end of the stairs which would activate brightly glowing lamps, I had no desire to blind myself. And in truth, I had even less desire than to give the little arcanist anything else to be terrified of. While I was sure he knew what he would find in an alchemist’s domain, there was no need to rub it in his face while I could feel him practically vibrating with fear and tension behind me.

“This way,” I murmured, even that quiet sound bouncing through my skull in the most aggravating way. For a moment, the links between us grew tauter as the arcanist hesitated. Then I heard him give a light sigh and follow me without a word.

I knew where my grandfather would want him- in one of the many cells just past the thick iron door on the east wall. Even without activating the alchemical magic built into my laboratory, the runes inscribed around the border of the door gave a faint glow; the ward was always in place to keep unwanted people out… and to keep the arcanists in. If my intention was to drain this one dry like the others, I would have dragged him through that door and given him a small, dark room in which to wallow until I brought him back out to carve anything useful from his body.

It was what my family would expect of me.

But I had different plans for the little arcanist who padded behind me, his breath coming in shivering pants that spoke of growing panic. I led him to the opposite wall, instead, where a thin wooden door led into a short hallway. My footsteps echoed in the small space, thudding against my skull with every step as I led the arcanist past the doors to the storage room and supply closet.

Reaching the end of the hall, I reached into my pocket to retrieve a ring of keys; they gave a metallic rattle, almost masking the soft, questioning sound from the arcanist behind me. He was no doubt wondering why an alchemist, capable of crafting the blood-magic-fueled wards on the other doors, bothered with something as mundane as a lock.

“I don’t feel it necessary to place that kind of ward on my bedroom,” I answered his silent question, unlocking the door and pushing it open, the slight squeak of the hinges spiking agony through my head.

The arcanist stayed still for a moment; I could feel his gaze burning through the darkness. “You’re royalty among the alchemists, an heir to the Hedquist name… and you live in the basement.” His tone was carefully flat, but there was a curiosity hidden behind it.

“It’s safer.” My tone was darker, my free hand reaching up to my neck. The skin throbbed at the brush of my fingertips against tender, swollen skin. The last bruises had only just begun to fade, but I knew there would be fresh dark marks blooming there- a collar of my own, as binding as the one I had placed on my new possession.

He was silent for another long moment, his features underlit by the glow of the chain that extended between us; his dark brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at me. Eventually he just shrugged slightly, and followed my gesture to enter the room. 

I walked in behind him, closing the door and flipping the lock out of habit. It made him flinch, quickly turning to face me. I didn’t move, merely crossing my arms over my chest and watching the expressions flicker over his face as he retreated until the backs of his knees hit my mattress.

Looking over him, I was struck again by the fact that the arcanist himself had been unexpected. Given the reasons why I had hunted him down, I hadn’t expected him to be so… delicate. It was clear he wasn’t cared for, his already worn jeans and baggy tee turned to rags by the rough treatment of the men who had captured him. His raven black hair was overgrown, falling over his face and partially masking the piercing gray eyes which had glared at me with such venom when I held his chin. He was far too frail, underweight, but there was the potential for elegant slenderness in his frame.

Topped with the pouting bottom lip he was chewing raw, he was the epitome of my uncle’s favorite toys: a tiny, pretty little thing he would have enjoyed shattering under his hard hands.

I couldn’t understand those tastes- but I could see the allure to this one, rebellious even as he shivered with his arms wrapped around himself. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat you,” I said, my amusement creeping into my tone. 

His gaze narrowed, arms curling tighter as he scowled at me. “You expect me to just take you at your word?”

There was a moment of silence before I found I couldn’t hold back my chuckle, watching the little arcanist prickle like a stray cat. “Think what you like of me, it makes no difference,” I said as I paced toward my dresser. I rummaged in the top drawer, finding an old set of sleep clothes to toss at the man’s chest.

He barely caught them, confusion infiltrating his anger and suspicion. “Why-”

“You’re filthy, bloody… and probably uncomfortable. Bathroom’s through the door,” I gestured to the smaller door to the right of my bed, “Get yourself cleaned up, and then we’ll talk.”

He regarded me through eyes narrowed to slits before he seemed to make his decision; there was a hint of relief to his expression as he clung to the clean clothes and turned toward the shower. I’d suffered enough long and dirty days to know how much he was probably looking forward to washing away everything that had happened.

I waited for the door to click shut behind him, quickly followed by the gentle rush of water from the shower, before I relaxed my guard. Padding forward, I sat at the edge of my bed, bracing my elbows against my knees as I dropped my throbbing head into my hands. It was starting to get hard to think, to find the proper words past the growing pain… but I knew I couldn’t stop now.

The prey I had backed into a corner was understandably wary, but I had to do my best to convince him to stay and work with me. Because my future- my freedom- depended on persuading a powerful arcanist to join hands with me, rather than bringing my life to the same violent end as the other alchemists who had the ill fortune to see his face.