Jack’s excitement bubbled over.

  “So, how do we do the binding? Do we need rings or something? Should we put our clothes on? Is it disrespectful to bind ourselves while we’re naked? Help me out here—I have no idea how this works.”

  Kleo smirked. “Don’t worry. I made a laurel wreath that will serve as the ring—and I know the magic required.”

  “Magic? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know right now. Please tell me what I need to do. Do I have to speak?”

  “Relax, your part’s easy.”

  She knelt beside her bag, pulling out small pouches.

  “We’ll stand in the wards as a precaution. I’ll cast the binding spell, and when you feel the magic settle, you’ll place the binding ring on my head and say:

  ‘I, Jack, consent to this binding with Kleo. Henceforth, I will honor this binding with trust, kindness, and respect.’

  Simple enough?”

  Jack tried to repeat the words, stumbling over the phrasing.

  Kleo chuckled. “Close enough. After that, I’ll say something similar, and then we’ll seal it with a kiss.”

  She glanced up at him with a sly smile.

  “Now, I’m going to do the preparations. You can wander over there and practice your lines so you don’t screw it up.”

  As she sorted her supplies, she called to him.

  “Oh, Jack—there are three rules. First, say both our names and the word consent. Second, your promise has to be truthful. If it’s not, the ritual won’t work. And third…”

  She paused.

  “Under no circumstances should you say the word serve. That word has a literal, permanent meaning with the spell I'm using. Trust me, you won’t like it.”

  “Got it,” Jack said, wandering off to rehearse. “No, serve. Truthful words. Don’t screw up. Easy.”

  Kleo moved to each point of the wards, sprinkling crystalline powder over the symbols and murmuring quiet incantations.

  Once the protections were complete, she withdrew a small laurel wreath from her bag and handed it to Jack.

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  “This is the binding ring. When the moment comes, place it on my head and say your lines."

  Her grin turned mischievous. "And don’t forget to kiss me at the end.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t forget that part. It’s the other parts I’m worried about…”

  Her grin vanished, replaced by a deadpan glare. “Jack, do not mess this up.”

  Jack laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I’ll get it right.”

  They stood together in the chalk-drawn circle, their hands intertwined. The symbols glimmered faintly in the dim light, and Jack’s nerves tingled. The laurel wreath hung around his left arm as he breathed deeply.

  “Look at me,” he muttered, “standing naked in a ritual circle with a girl I just met. Am I marrying a witch?”

  Kleo arched a brow. “Oh, it’s way worse than that.”

  Her tone was playful, but her expression turned serious. “Having second thoughts?”

  “Nope,” Jack replied, steeling himself. “Do your worst.”

  She closed her eyes and began chanting, her voice a melodic whisper that seemed to harmonize with the air. Jack, unsure what to do, closed his eyes, too.

  Far and away, come today. Hear our voices and the words we say. Witness their truth, and with this power, Bind our souls forever after.

  Jack stood waiting, but as the moments passed and nothing happened, he began to feel very foolish. Then, as his faith and patience finally ebbed, A soft, compassionate voice broke the air, resonating like the notes of an ancient instrument:

  “Who speaks today to bind two souls as one?”

  Kleo squeezed his hands and released them; her whispered words reaching his ear: “That’s your cue.”

  Jack opened his eyes to find golden light swirling around them, soft and warm, like the first rays of dawn. He lifted the laurel wreath and placed it upon Kleo's head. She looked stunning in the soft light, and he got lost in her eyes for a moment. When she pinched him, he cleared his throat.

  “I, Jack, consent to this binding with the woman before me, Kleo. Henceforth, I will honor this binding with unwavering trust, kindness, and love.”

  Kleo flinched when he said the 'L' word, but Jack felt the weight of his words settle in his chest—not heavy, but grounding. It wasn’t only a promise; it was the truth. He loved her, and that love felt as honest and trustworthy as the ground beneath him.

  Kleo bit her lip in anxiety, her eyes glistening as the voice spoke again.

  “There is truth in these words. By my right as a witness, I bless them. Who else will speak?”

  Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She tried again, her breath catching as emotion overtook her. Finally, her voice emerged, soft and trembling.

  “I, Kleo, consent to this binding with the man standing before me, Jack. I will honor this binding with true love, passion, and truth.”

  Their eyes locked as a single tear traced its way down her cheek. Time seemed to pause, the air thick with meaning. Jack held his breath, waiting.

  The voice broke the silence once more, serene and filled with finality:

  “The truth of these words is immutable. By my right as a witness, I bless them and share my blessing of this union. Seal the binding with love’s first kiss.”

  They stood still for a moment, and then as if drawn together by gravity, they kissed. It was slow, deep, and filled with everything unspoken between them. Their arms wrapped tightly around one another, neither willing to let go.

  When the kiss finally broke, the golden light faded, leaving only the faint shimmer of the circle.

  They stayed close, foreheads touching.

  They felt a fragile sense of safety for the first time in days, as though nothing else mattered except each other.

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Jack murmured,

  Kleo smiled through the tears still in her eyes. “You didn’t screw it up. That’s a good start.”