Remaining in our merged consciousness as we traveled was a strange experience. Although it was the third time we had entered the unified state, we were still clueless as to what had initially caused the bonding of our minds in the Midlands or why it had continued to happen every time we were in danger since. When our combat enhancements were in full effect, we acted in perfect unison without hesitation, but we found ourselves feeling odd moments of confusion when the effects wore off. The shared sensation of our bodies caused us to stumble over our own feet, and seeing flashes of the other person’s vision was disorienting. Even though we could communicate solely through emotion and mental images, we often found ourselves speaking through sheer force of habit.
We continued to travel through the night after we passed the split in the road, walking along the northern path until we reached another fork that circled a long, narrow forest. Without any shelter in sight, we pushed into the trees until the towering ivory spires of Atsal were out of sight behind us, then stopped to assemble our makeshift camp. The tree cover had limited the depth of the snow within the forest, so it was easy enough to brush out a space to lay down our bedrolls and make a small fire.
Lia shivered as she warmed her hands over the flame and huddled closer to my side, mostly hidden beneath my voluminous cloak. “I guess I forgot it was winter,” she chuckled through chattering teeth. “Should’ve dressed warmer.”
“We’ll have to focus on figuring out how this cloak works when we get home,” I replied, holding her tightly. “Then you won’t be forced to share mine all the time.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder. “As long as you don’t.” I shook my head in response, then leaned it against hers and closed my eyes, appreciating her physical closeness alongside our mental bond. It helped to ease a bit of the tightness in my chest that had been growing ever since arriving at the Mountain Gate, though the feeling never fully dissipated.
“What’s wrong?” Lia asked, nudging me with her knee.
“Nothing,” I lied, nudging her back. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”
I’m in your head, her voice echoed between my ears. She tugged on my tightly-wound anxiety, then waited expectantly. What’s wrong?
I...don’t know. It was an uncomfortable admission to make, especially with her fully tapped into my emotions. I feel off, and I don’t know why. After how well everything was going in Lybesa, I’m slipping right back to the way I was before.
Let me help you.
I don’t want you to carry my burdens for me. I’ll be f—
She turned to me and took my right hand tightly in hers. “One mind, one body, and one soul,” she said quietly. The words immediately whisked me back to the chapel in Mayaan, and I felt the ribbons binding our hands once more. “Your burdens are mine, too, now.”
The memory brought a smile to my face, despite my concern. “Okay,” I said with a sigh. Looking inward, I focused on the uncomfortable knots in my gut. I had to physically resist the urge to flinch and push the feelings down as I had learned to do during my decades in Hedaat, and I quickly felt overwhelmed by the tide of anger and fear I found locked within my psyche. Lia, I can’t...I need to— I felt a small spike of mana activate as our combined thoughts accelerated, and the tightly packed core burst open in a rush of emotions and mental images.
Virram’s face, sneering at us from his massive throne. The Strategist’s confident smirk as he explained his plot with the King. The broken, empty look of Val’s eyes as she pleaded for her liege’s life. Marin shrieking in pain in my arms as blood poured out from around the crossbow bolt in her chest. Roiling hatred.
The inability to pull away from my mental bond with Lia, and the incapacitating emptiness it left in its wake when it finally ended. Burning, disassembling pain from the void between worlds, creeping out from my body into hers. Layne’s mangled body, bloody and lifeless. Empty, unseeing amber eyes that stared up into the sky as their life faded away. Overwhelming fear.
My delight as I tore through the soldiers in the Attetsian plaza. My sword held against my own throat as I cursed Val in the forest. Marin’s fear as she looked into my eyes and saw my darkness. Black, jagged scars that ran down from my fingers to Lia’s chest, corrupting her perfect, innocent flesh. Burning shame.
The sound of Amaya’s laugh. Alda’s cautious smiles. The warmth of Amaya’s skin against mine. Kel’s defiant grin as she threw me to the ground. Jaren’s gentle wisdom. The endless ringing of Rastor’s hammer in his forge. Jarut’s patient instructions. The large, shady tree atop a low hill, where I said my first vows. Amaya 's soft lips. Unending longing.
I teetered backwards as a violent shudder ran up my spine, and Lia and I both gasped violently as the influx of information surged through us. I lost track of my body for a brief moment, confused as to which inputs came from Lia’s body and which came from my own. “Are we...are you okay, Lia?” I asked, clutching at my chest. A strange feeling pulsed through me, but I couldn’t identify it as I reeled from the overwhelming burst of emotion.
“I’m okay,” she answered in a shaking voice. My stomach dropped as she turned her face up to look at me and revealed her tear-stained cheeks.
“Oh, no, Lia,” I said, holding a hand to her face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“No,” she said firmly, shaking me off, “really, I’m fine. It’s not me, it’s...you. I’m in your head, so all those emotions you had locked up in there are just...processing. Like they were mine.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
She
