The Fire We Feed

The river was colder than it looked, its dark current slipping silently over smooth stones. Taryn knelt at the edge, her hands disappearing into the glassy water that smelled faintly of moss and earth. Cold bit into her skin, sharp and unforgiving, the kind of cold that settled deep in her bones. 

Behind her, Lucien crouched lazily on the riverbank, trailing a hand through the water as if testing its temperature. A light breeze stirred the branches overhead, shaking loose a few leaves that drifted lazily down, one catching on the dark waves before swirling away downstream. 

He tilted his head, inspecting his reflection with idle vanity, as though they were on a leisurely stroll rather than running for their lives. He splashed some over his hands, wiping at the streaks of dirt across his sharp cheekbones with slow, deliberate motions, as if grooming himself were an art form. 

She could feel the cursed chain tugging at her wrist with every movement—an unwelcome reminder that she wasn't alone.

"If I didn't know any better," Lucien mused, dabbing at a stubborn smudge with the corner of his sleeve, "I'd think you were embarrassed to be tethered to me."

Taryn shot him a glare over her shoulder. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were enjoying this."

Lucien's lips curled in a smug grin. "What's not to enjoy? This is practically a bonding experience."

Taryn turned back to the river, muttering under her breath. "More like a punishment."

The chain clinked softly between them as she rinsed her face, scrubbing the grime from her jawline. Lucien gave the chain an idle tug, just enough to jostle her arm—and send an unsteady splash of water into her eyes.

Taryn sputtered, wiping her face with a sharp scowl. "Stop that."

"Apologies," Lucien said, though his grin betrayed no real regret. "It's difficult to control myself with all this personal space."

Taryn ground her teeth, jerking the chain just enough to make him stumble toward her. "Do it again, and I'll drown you."

Lucien steadied himself, his grin widening. "This close? I'd like to see you try."

Taryn ignored him, turning her focus back to the water. They'd only been stuck together for a day, and already every movement felt like a negotiation. Every time one of them shifted, the other had to follow—or be painfully yanked along. Privacy was a distant dream, and awkwardness had become their constant companion.

She rinsed her hands once more, glancing at Lucien's reflection beside hers in the water. Even tethered to her, he looked far too at ease, as if trudging through mud, fighting hunters, and being bound by cursed magic were just minor inconveniences in his day.

"You do realize this chain isn't a joke, right?" she said, standing and shaking water from her hands.

Lucien rose with her, adjusting his coat with a casual shrug. "You say that, but I think we're making it work."

Taryn scoffed. "Barely."

Lucien gave the chain an experimental tug, forcing her to stumble a step closer. "See? We're practically in sync."

Taryn jerked the chain in return, her patience wearing thin. "We're in sync because if we aren't, one of us gets dragged. There's a difference."

Lucien's laughter was soft but full of amusement. "And here I thought teamwork was supposed to be good for personal growth."

Taryn's glare sharpened. "Keep talking, and the only thing growing will be my urge to kill you."

Lucien smirked, brushing his damp hair from his forehead with a flick of his hand. "Good to know we're off to a healthy start."

They left the riverbank behind and continued down the narrow trail, the ground beneath their boots soft with old leaves and damp earth. Branches snagged on Taryn's clothes like claws, and the undergrowth, wet from recent rain, pressed in around them. The forest smelled of pine and decay, the scent thick and clinging to their skin as if the trees themselves were trying to trap them here. 

Lucien's step pressed just a second behind hers, their stride mismatched by half a beat. Each jerk of the chain pulled at her wrist like an annoying itch she couldn't scratch. Taryn knew it shouldn't bother her this much—but it did, gnawing at her with every uneven step.

As they walked, roots twisted beneath their feet like snakes waiting to trip them, and low-hanging branches seemed determined to tangle in their hair and clothes. When Taryn sped up, Lucien would slow just enough to irritate her, his boots crunching softly on fallen leaves. 

The cursed chain tugged at her wrist, catching on every obstacle the forest could throw at them, as if the woods themselves were in on the joke. When he stopped to inspect a stray branch or stone, the chain would pull tight, jerking her arm backward without warning.

Taryn felt like a marionette with tangled strings, yanked this way and that by an infuriating puppet master.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered after tripping over a protruding root for the third time. "We can't keep walking like this."

Lucien shot her an amused glance. "What do you suggest, warrior? Should I carry you?"

Taryn leveled him with a look sharp enough to cut. "Try it, and I'll make sure that chain tightens around your neck."

Lucien chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon."

"You mean worse than being chained to an arrogant vampire?" Taryn snorted. "Hard to imagine."

They continued in silence for a while, though the quiet between them was anything but peaceful. Every step required negotiation—ducking beneath branches, sidestepping rocks, adjusting to the constant, maddening pull of the chain. It wasn't long before Taryn's frustration reached a boiling point.

She stopped abruptly, yanking the chain hard enough to make Lucien stumble forward. "Okay," she snapped. "This isn't working. We need rules."

Lucien arched a brow, amusement dancing in his silver eyes. "Rules?"

"Yes," Taryn said, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "No unnecessary tugging on the chain. No wandering off without warning. And absolutely no—"

"—annoying the warrior?" Lucien finished with a grin.

Taryn clenched her jaw. "Yes. That."

Lucien gave a solemn nod, though the sparkle in his eyes ruined any attempt at sincerity. "Understood. No annoying the warrior. Anything else?"

Taryn stared at him, debating whether it was worth trying to come up with more rules—or whether she should just strangle him with the chain and be done with it.

Lucien leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You know, you could always try being nice to me. It might make things easier."

Taryn let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I'd rather eat dirt."

Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "Suit yourself." He gave the chain another lazy tug. "Look at us—synchronized walkers. We should charge admission."

She shot him a half-hearted glare but didn't respond, as they resumed their awkward march through the forest, the chain clinking softly between them. Every step was a reminder of how impossible their situation was—how every movement had to be coordinated, every action planned.

It was exhausting.

The forest grew darker as they continued, the air thick with the scent of wet leaves and pine. Shadows lengthened, creeping along the trail ahead, as if the woods were shifting just out of sight. The cursed chain still hummed between them—reminding Taryn that the magic binding them wasn't going to let go any time soon.

The undergrowth thinned slightly, and Taryn noticed something unexpected—they were starting to move in rhythm. Lucien ducked under a branch, and without thinking, Taryn followed. 

When she sidestepped a patch of brambles, he shifted beside her without missing a step. The forest still closed in around them, dark and sprawling, but it no longer seemed quite so eager to trip them up at every turn. It was far from seamless, far from perfect—but it was… less terrible.

"See?" Lucien said, his voice light with amusement. "We're making progress."

Taryn rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

Lucien's grin widened. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, warrior."

Despite herself, Taryn felt a flicker of something that might have been amusement—or maybe just exhaustion. Either way, she shoved it down and focused on the trail ahead. They still had a long way to go, and the cursed chain wasn't going to get any lighter.

Taryn rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the weariness creeping in, but it clung to her like the forest mist. If this cursed chain didn't drag her down first, Lucien's grin might do the job.

"Let's just keep moving," she muttered, tugging the chain harder than necessary.

Lucien followed with a lazy smile, his voice trailing behind her like a promise. "As you wish, warrior. As you wish."