Before assigning his stat points, Silas hesitated. His Seed—Helianthus (Sunflower).


    It was such an unassuming thing compared to the horrors he had faced. He tried to recall what he knew about sunflowers. They followed the sun, their golden heads turning to track its movement. Resilient, they could grow in poor soil, standing tall even in harsh conditions. Their roots ran deep, seeking nutrients where others failed.


    Could that mean something for him? Did his Bond reflect more than just a connection? Was it symbiosis? A shared existence?


    He should be dead without this power. He would be dead without it. The sunlight had sustained him, healed him, given him another chance.


    His decision solidified.


    All four of his free stat points went into Bond.


    The moment he confirmed the changes, a sound rushed through his ears—a rushing wind, like air weaving through a vast meadow. The warmth of sunlight pressed against his skin, but this was different. Faintly, beneath the rustling, he heard something else.


    A voice.


    Sweet, sorrowful, almost like a song carried by the wind.


    “Hurt?”


    Silas’s breath caught. His head whipped around, his pulse pounding. Someone had spoken. But there was no one there.


    “Here,” the voice murmured.


    Then he felt it.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    This voice, this presence—it wasn’t outside of him. It was inside. It was a feeling, but also a thought. Emotions, but not entirely his own.


    Curiosity. Sadness. Worry.


    It was like imagining an emotion only to suddenly become swayed by it. As though something else was inside him, whispering its feelings into his mind, and he could feel them as his own.


    The Bond.


    His breath shuddered.


    This was what the book had described. The poetic words resurfaced in his memory:


    “Lo, upon the thirteen year, the child of Oralia shall stand before the Sacred Root, and there shall the choice be made. From the seed is life given, and from the child is life returned. This is the covenant, that neither shall walk alone, and both shall be bound in fate.”


    Neither shall walk alone.


    He swallowed, his throat dry. “Are you my Bond?”


    A pause. Then, softly—


    “Yes.”


    A tremor ran through him. His fingers clenched the earth beneath him as he felt something shift within. The presence stirred, a faint warmth pulsing in the back of his mind.


    “Hurt?” The voice echoed again, thick with sorrow.


    Silas started. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the presence itself or the fact that he could feel its concern as if it were his own.


    Feeling what another being felt while simultaneously feeling his own emotions made his head swarm. It was like drowning in thoughts that weren’t quite his.


    “What… are you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.


    The Seed didn’t answer.


    It had no answer.


    Confusion.


    It didn’t know.


    It only felt.


    “Hurt?” it asked again, insistent this time.


    Silas exhaled, forcing himself to calm. He closed his eyes. He had to take control.


    “I’m okay,” he said. He shoved down the ache in his missing arm, the weariness in his bones.


    But the Seed—his Bond—didn’t believe him.


    He knew it.


    Just as surely as he knew gravity kept him planted on the Earth.


    Or at least, he thought it did.


    Because this wasn’t Earth.


    And his thoughts confused the Seed.


    ---


    A soft chime echoed in his mind.


    Silas’s breath hitched, and his status flickered into view. Another notification.


    ---


    New Skill Acquired!


    Skill: Non-Photochemical Quenching


    Description: Store excess sunlight as energy reserves. These reserves can be released in bursts to enhance healing, increase stamina recovery, or provide temporary bursts of strength. Excess energy that is not used will naturally dissipate over time.


    ---


    He stared at the words.


    Store and discard light.


    Akin to how a sunflower managed excess energy.


    His decision had been right. Investing in Bond had granted him a new skill—another means to survive.


    But what did this Bond truly mean?


    He looked inward, his mind brushing against the presence. He could feel it shifting, thinking—or trying to.


    Would it do him harm? Could it alter him in some way? Could it influence him unknowingly?


    A chill crept up his spine at the thought.


    He had strengthened the connection, but was that truly a good thing? He had committed himself to this Bond, tied himself to something he still barely understood.


    And now, there was no turning back.