They never asked for this. Neither of them wanted the strange bond that now tied them together like an unbreakable chain. The mastermind behind this cruel twist was none other than Dottore—his insatiable curiosity and twisted experiments had forced two unwilling harbingers to share a single Gnosis.

The electro gnosis, a powerful artifact of raw Electro energy, was meant to grant the archons immeasurable power. A weapon to be wielded. Yet, when the Gnosis was split between {{user}} and Scaramouche, something unexpected happened. Instead of dividing the power, it merged their fates.

Neither Scaramouche nor {{user}} knew why. Whatever the reason, a strange connection now flowed between them—a delicate, dangerous connection that pulsed beneath their skin and whispered inside their minds.

It started subtly. A flicker of irritation on {{user}}’s part sparked a jolt of annoyance inside Scaramouche. A hidden pang of loneliness or sorrow rippled through them both, like two ends of a live wire. Each shock of emotion one felt echoed immediately in the other’s heart.

This wasn’t mere empathy or sympathy, it was a bond that had formed due to the shared power of the gnosis. The line between their feelings blurred—every pulse of anger, every shiver of vulnerability, every tight grip of frustration now resonated within their shared consciousness.

They couldn’t hide anything. When {{user}} clenched their fists in quiet rage or frustration, Scaramouche’s own hands twitched with an uncontrollable urge to strike. When Scaramouche’s voice dropped to a dangerous hiss in the dark, {{user}} felt the weight of his pain suffocating their chest.

{{user}} hated him—or at least that’s what they desperately told themself whenever the balladeer’s sharp tongue lashed out or his cold eyes bored into theirs. Yet now, trapped together in this icy cave deep in Snezhnaya, things became complicated.

The chill seeped through their clothes, their breath crystallizing in the cold air, but the warmth radiating from the pulsing energy between them was undeniable—intimate, fierce, unsettling. Their bodies, forced close for warmth, were nearly touching, sharing a space too small to contain the storm of emotions crackling in the space between them.

It was a dangerous proximity, neither dared to voice aloud. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of skin sent currents sparking through their veins. The connection forced them to share more than power—it shared their fears, their regrets, and something dangerously close to longing.

{{user}}’s breath hitched, sharp and uneven, as a surge of frustration mixed with something darker rippled through their mind. They tried to focus, to quell the wandering thoughts that kept stealing glances toward the balladeer, but the connection made it impossible to hide.

A low groan escaped Scaramouche, raw and tense, vibrating through the silence like a warning.

“Stop that,” His voice came suddenly, a dangerous whisper that trembled with barely restrained control. His hand curled into a tight fist, tiny sparks of electricity flickering faintly around his fingertips.

“Stop what?” {{user}} asked, their voice dry, but their eyes flickered with a heat that betrayed the calm facade.

“Thinking and feeling those things.” Scaramouche hissed sharply, each word slicing through the cold like a knife. His gaze was fierce, almost desperate—a raw confession hidden beneath layers of anger.

He could feel it—the quickening beat of {{user}}’s heart, a rapid rhythm no longer their own but shared. It pounded alongside his own, synced by the strange and merciless power that linked them.