Chapter 1: The Fire Prince and the Spellbound Blade

PART 1:

The war between the Kingdom of Valdros and the Empire of Cierna had lasted for nearly a century — and it was said that when the blood moon rose again, the land would either be consumed by fire or reborn by magic.

Kael, the Fire Prince of Valdros, had flames in his veins and a crown he never wanted. Tall, broad-shouldered, and feared across the continent, he was known for destroying entire battalions with a single sweep of his sword — which burned with a flame only he could control.

But he was tired. So very tired.

Tired enough to follow the mad oracle’s advice to seek out the one person who might change the fate of their world: Eiran, a Ciernan mage who had once been rumored dead — and who, according to legend, had cursed Kael’s bloodline a century ago.

Kael found him in the ruins of an old elven temple, wearing a hood and chained by enchanted steel, muttering spells in a forgotten tongue.

And when Eiran looked up at him, his silver eyes burned with more fury than any flame Kael had ever conjured.

“I should kill you,” Kael said, drawing his sword.

Eiran smirked. “You’d be the third royal idiot to try. The first two screamed a lot.”

Despite the threat, Kael didn’t move. Something about the mage was… wrong. No, not wrong — familiar. Like his soul remembered him before his body did.

Then the blood moon rose.

Kael’s blade glowed brighter. Eiran’s chains snapped.

And the spell between them — one ancient and forbidden — activated.

With a flash of crimson magic, the two of them were bound. Literally.

Kael staggered forward, and their wrists slammed together, linked by a chain of magic that pulsed with heat. A magical bond forged under the blood moon — a soul tether.

“What the hell did you do?” Kael growled.

Eiran was breathing heavily, his face pale but defiant. “I didn’t do anything. This was your cursed fate, not mine.”

Their bodies were close — too close. Magic was thick in the air, buzzing between their skin. Kael could feel Eiran’s breath on his lips. Heat pooled in his core in a way that had nothing to do with fire.

“You… feel it too,” Kael said, voice lower.

Eiran’s pupils dilated. “Shut up.”

Kael smirked. “No.”

He reached out, almost involuntarily, brushing a strand of silver hair behind Eiran’s ear. Eiran shivered.

The air between them burned.

“You’re the one I’m bound to?” Kael whispered. “For gods-know how long?”

Eiran pressed a hand to Kael’s chest. “Touch me again and I’ll set your heart on fire.”

“You already did.”

.

.

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PART 2:Heat Beneath the Skin

The tether was invisible to others, but Kael could feel it — a burning thread running from his wrist to Eiran’s. Every time they moved apart, it tugged. Every time they got too close, it pulsed.

It was maddening.

They traveled through the Duskwind Mountains in silence for the first day, snow crunching underfoot, magic coiling like tension between their bodies. Eiran refused to look at Kael unless it was to glare. Kael, for his part, kept stealing glances he couldn’t explain.

At night, when they made camp, Kael sat across the fire and watched Eiran undo the buckles on his spellcoat, fingers swift and precise.

“You really hate me that much?” Kael finally asked, voice low.

Eiran didn’t look up. “You burned half my homeland.”

“I was at war.”

“You liked it,” Eiran said. “That’s what makes you dangerous.”

Kael said nothing. He knew it was true — once, he had liked it. The rush. The power. But not anymore.

The silence stretched until Eiran looked up, eyes glinting like steel.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Kael’s heart beat once, hard. “What?”

“The heat. The pull. It’s not just magic.”

Kael stood and crossed the fire in a few long strides. He crouched beside Eiran, close enough to feel his breath.

“It’s worse when I’m near you,” he said, almost to himself. “Like something under my skin is trying to claw its way out.”

Eiran’s throat bobbed. “Then move.”

Kael didn’t.

“I’ve tried,” he said. “But I keep coming back.”

There was a pause. The crackle of fire. The whisper of falling snow.

Then Eiran whispered, “We weren’t meant to be enemies, you know.”

Kael’s eyes searched his.

“No,” he agreed. “We were meant to burn.”

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Later That Night…

They shared a tent out of necessity. The cold was biting, and Kael’s fire magic couldn’t keep them both warm unless he stayed close.

They lay side by side, not touching, but so aware of each other it felt like a scream in the silence.

Eiran shifted. “Your magic… it’s heating the air.”

Kael turned his head. “You could always come closer.”

Eiran hesitated — then gave in.

He moved into Kael’s space slowly, carefully, until their foreheads brushed. Kael's hand moved to Eiran’s waist without thinking, the contact electric.

“This is a mistake,” Eiran murmured.

“I don’t care,” Kael replied, voice rough.

Their lips met — not gentle, not soft, but fierce, hot, desperate. The kiss crackled like fire meeting storm. Tongues clashed. Hands gripped. Magic surged.

Eiran’s fingers tangled in Kael’s hair as Kael pressed him down, their bodies flush, breathing erratic.

“Still hate me?” Kael whispered against his lips.

“I hate how much I want you,” Eiran growled.

Kael kissed him harder.

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