The witch extended her hands toward Lucian and Naya, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. “Both of you, offer your hands,” she commanded.
Lucian hesitated briefly, his sharp gaze locked onto the witch, but he finally extended his hand. Naya followed, though her movements were less certain. Her earlier smug confidence had begun to crack, replaced with a thin veil of nervousness.
The witch took a small ceremonial dagger from her cloak, the blade gleaming ominously under the light. She made a shallow incision on Lucian’s palm, then on Naya’s. Blood welled from the cuts, and the witch clasped their hands together, their blood mixing.
“Do not pull away,” the witch said firmly, her voice tinged with an otherworldly resonance. “The bond must be tested.”
Lucian’s expression rem
