The bond was not something so mystical. It was as crude as an invisible rope, like the tie of marriage; the blood of countrymen. The romanticism was mostly lost on me, but obviously it was exciting for her. She blinked a few times as her eyes readjusted from the trance that touching the last gate to the old world. And then she began to scream, tearing at her white hair and crying violently on her knees. This was the first sign; the memory.
The memory of a set of rules that you remember hazily, scrawled in your blood on an obelisk standing erect in complete void. A desert of black sand where a thousand purgatorial souls wander, occasionally staring at you before moving on. It's terrifying, it's awful, it can kill you if you remember these false events in too great of detail.
What are the rules? What are they? Azzirth knew, and he wouldn't tell us. Which truly may have been a kindness. They may have been something from everyone's past or future. And seeing them a perverse violation of linear time, not that Azzirth ever had the humble sense not to tamper with such ancient boundaries.
The law appeals directly to ones deepest fears and desires. The promises great for success, but the punishments for failure were severe. All your weaknesses lined up in one place, sometimes accompanied by the corpses of everyone you will ever love.
Initiation of any kind sparse a pleasant ordeal though. I knew easily that she would make it though, she'd persevere through this hell like any other. The screaming continued until all she could do was whimper with sore lungs. Bundles of nerves burned in agony as a four point star began to form in the wrist. Blood flushed making it turn a shade of burgundy.
A few more events transpired, but they consisted mostly of her body readjusting to the sudden tapping of her numerous fresh energy pools. I despise the term magic. It's what the unenlightened try to pass as a term for all physical energies beyond their comprehension.
Eventually her convulsing subsided, and she collapsed. The grass around her wilted as a chronochasm formed. Fascinating. Normally such occurrences were comprised of conventional forces (shadow weaving, florescence of will-immolation). Rarely did time itself bend for a moment, especially for those who held the mere title of student.
Her sleep in the null zone still passed in linear time for me. Enough to last until dawn I hoped, returning to my back to rest the night away.
My awakening wasn't until well after dawn, my black robes had risen to a undesirable temperature. I laid and stared at the blue sky for a bit, diamond like with drifting mist.
I knew that sound. It had been a long time since I'd heard it. Sometimes it would come in mass unity as rows upon rows of my fellow scholars revised our notes in the serpent's keep. So long ago.
She was engrossed. My book was in her hand, and her eyes were wide with curious thoughts. Her eyes strayed to me for a moment, and then she crawled to my prone self.
“I've read through the first sections on physics and the eight true forces. I studied two of the runic alphabets and already can understand most of what is written.” Something then happened that surprised me, red tears began to well under her eyes; “what have I become?"