Chapter Eight:
Rose sat on the floor behind the counter of her Aunt's shop, an ancient tome resting heavily on her lap. Her fingers trembled slightly as she thumbed through the yellowed pages, her heart racing faster with each line she scanned. She couldn't shake Ethan's words. Ever since that night, they had burrowed deep into her mind, festering like a splinter. There had to be an explanation for the strange, unshakable pull she felt toward Giles. His magic—no, *their* magic—was at the center of it. She could feel it, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts, but she was terrified of what it meant.
"Are you going to help me?" came a voice from above, snapping Rose out of her thoughts. Startled, she jerked her head up, finding herself face to face with a young woman who was peering down at her from the other side of the counter.
"I've already been to the magic store down the block, and they don't have what I need," the woman continued impatiently.
"We aren't open," Rose replied, her voice a little unsteady as she stared at the familiar face.
"But you're here and you're a witch," the woman said, like it was a simple fact, as if Rose's whole world hadn't just been upended by that one word.
Rose swallowed hard. "I'm not…"
"Yes, you are. I've seen you at school. You're powerful, too."
The statement cut into Rose like a cold blade, sending a shiver down her spine. She quickly closed the book, her hands shaking as she pushed herself up from the floor, her legs sore and stiff. Now fully standing, she recognized the woman. "You're Anya, right? You hang around with Harmony."
"Yes, and you don't anymore. Is that because you're a witch?"
Rose's breath hitched in her throat. She glanced nervously around the shop, her chest tightening with a sudden sense of panic. "Would you stop saying that?" she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Why? We're in a magic shop," Anya replied, unfazed by Rose's obvious discomfort.
Taking a deep breath, Rose tried to steady herself, but the unease only grew. She felt trapped, like the walls of the shop were closing in on her. "What can I help you with, Anya?"
"I need a spell," Anya said, matter-of-factly.
Rose's mind was still reeling from her own search for answers, but she forced herself to focus. "Okay."
"To make me a demon again."
Rose blinked, her thoughts grinding to a halt. "Wait, you were a demon?"
Anya rolled her eyes. "Do you not listen when people talk? I said *again, make me a demon again."
"I—I can't make you a demon again. That's not something I even knew was possible." Rose was trying to keep her voice calm, but her heart was pounding in her ears. "Wait, what kind of demon were you?"
"Vengeance," Anya replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Rose stared at her, dumbfounded. "Well, I, um, hope you find someone that can help you." She offered a weak shrug, trying to keep her voice light, but her mind was spiraling.
Anya's gaze shifted to the book in Rose's hands. "What are you binding?"
Rose looked down at the book, her stomach twisting into knots. "I'm not binding anything. I'm trying to find out if two people can be bound by a magical connection."
Anya rolled her eyes again, exasperated. "You're not a very good witch, are you?"
The bluntness hit Rose like a slap. She opened her mouth to protest but found she couldn't form the words. Her skin felt prickly, her hands clammy.
Anya continued, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course two people can be magically connected."
"Yes, no… no, I know that. I mean… can they be connected without ever having met before, without using a spell?" Rose's voice cracked slightly, her throat tight with anxiety.
"Of course," Anya said with a shrug. "Although it hasn't been seen it in like six, seven hundred years. It's kind of like soul mates, but it's more about the magic than your actual soul. One person's magic fits into the other's like…" She trailed off, interlocking her fingers in front of her. "You get what I mean?"
Rose's stomach lurched. "No, not really." Her voice was barely a whisper now, her mind struggling to process what Anya was saying. *Soul mates?* But this wasn't about love—it couldn't be. This was something else. Something far more dangerous.
Anya scrunched her face in thought. "I'm not explaining it right. Everyone's magic has, like, layers—oh! Like an onion!" She began to get excited, her hands animated as she spoke. "So, you have the onion—"
"A person with magic?"
"Yes, don't interrupt," Anya snapped. "So, you have the onion, which isn't very good on its own, but then you put that white batter on it, which also isn't very good on its own, and deep fry it. The other person is like the batter. Two separate, not great tasting alone, but together, they make a delicious snack."
Rose stared at her, her heart racing, her mouth dry. "I don't understand."
"Are you new to this witch thing?" Anya's irritation was palpable. She scanned the shop, her eyes landing on a thick, weathered book. "That one," she said, pointing.
Rose retrieved the book and placed it on the counter. The title was in Croatian. "I can't read this."
Anya didn't respond, instead taking the book and flipping through its pages until she found what she was looking for. Her finger landed on a passage, and Rose's blood turned to ice as she read.
"Lo, it is writ, when two souls be bound by the ancient magicks, their power shall ever yearn one toward the other, as rivers to the sea, drawn not by will, but by the deep threads woven at the world's first breath. This bond, though unseen to the eye, is felt within the marrow of the spirit, and in every breath, it doth stir, calling in whispers soft as the wind 'pon the quietest eve. Each soul knoweth the other, though they may dwell afar, as the moon knoweth its own reflection upon the waters. Ever shall they seek their other half, for without the union of their magicks, neither shall find peace"
"Such magick is old as the earth and stars, and in its ancient wisdom, it craveth unity. The power of one is made whole in the other, and in their joining, their magick doth swell like the tide at full moon, unbroken and mighty. Yet, be warned, for this binding beareth a grave burden. To sunder these souls, to tear asunder what the fates have knit, is to bring forth a great disquiet. The magick, wild and untamed in separation, shall rage like a tempest without course, turning 'gainst its master, wreaking woe and despair."
Each word hit her like a hammer, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She could feel her pulse in her temples, her hands trembling as the implications sank in. Her and Giles… bound by magic? A bond older than time itself? Her breath came in shallow gasps as she read about the inescapable pull, the way their magic would seek each other out, unstoppable.
Then she got to the warning.
"In such sundering, not only doth the power fade, but the very essence of the souls shall wither, their magicks fraying like thread pulled from a loom. They shall grow weaker with each passing hour, their strength drawn out as if by unseen hands. The magick, ever restless, shall yearn still for its twin, and the bearer shall be plagued with dreams of what once was, haunted by visions of the power that could have been."
The room seemed to tilt, her vision blurring at the edges. Her throat constricted, and a cold sweat broke out along her spine. Rose's hands gripped the counter as the final lines seared into her mind.
"Thus, in their parting, both shall suffer, their hearts heavy with the weight of their bond undone, and the world itself shall feel the tremor of their discord, as if the very fabric of the earth doth shiver in sorrow."*
"Basically harmless," Anya said cheerfully, snapping the book shut. "You get a little tingly when you're around each other, and any spells you do together will be super powerful."
Rose's voice was shaky as she asked, "What was that part at the end, though?"
Anya's smile grew bigger. "Oh, you only need to worry about that if you, you know…" She lifted her hands, making an obscene gesture of one finger entering the circle she was making with her index and thumb of her other hand. "You know what I mean? If you have sex, then your souls can't survive apart."
"Like they would die?" Rose's voice came out in a strangled cry.
"Yeah," Anya replied, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "Once you've fully connected…" She made the motion again. "Then being apart means death."
Rose felt like the ground had fallen away beneath her. "The pair that you met before. Do you know what happened to them?"
"They were burned at the stake." Said Anya simply.
"Seriously?"
"Hey, they could have been eaten by bunnies." Anya spoke as a visible shiver rolled through her body.
"What?"