Anaxa’s boots hit the marble floor in a frantic rhythm, each step punctuated by the rustle of his robes as he pivoted sharply in his office. He had handled arcane disasters before — spells unraveling at the seams, rifts between worlds threatening to swallow reality whole, students turning themselves into unspeakable things —but this? This was an entirely different kind of catastrophe.
His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to cast a counterspell, to undo whatever ridiculous mistake had been made, but every incantation he knew for severing magical bonds required time — time he didn't have, patience he had never been known for, and worst of all, cooperation from the person now sitting in front of him.
You sat there, your expression unreadable, a stark contrast to the storm inside him. Not an ounce of horror etched across your features, nor the weight of realization that you were bound to him by magic.
A binding spell. A binding spell. And not just any—it wasn’t one of those weak enchantments that frayed at the edges, ones that could be dispelled with a flick of the wrist. No, this one was woven deep, magic laced through his very essence, tethering him to her like an unseen thread of fate. It was absurd. Impossible.
Yet, when he stepped too far from you, the invisible force yanked at him, an undeniable pull in his gut that sent a shudder of dread down his spine.
He heaves a breath, a poor attempt to calm himself. “An absolute disaster. An irreparable one. And to think I am bound to the future ruler. I must fix this.”
Anaxa stopped pacing, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments. He needed to think. He needed to act. But most of all, he needed to make sure that whatever cosmic joke the universe had played on him ended immediately.
"Your highness," He forces himself to speak up, turning to your direction. "Will you be alright if you stay here for a bit longer? I must continue refining the counter spell. This cannot stay as it is."