Aveloria grew up glued to your side — childhood besties, partners-in-crime, matching bruises from doing dumb stuff. She jokes around, acts cool, gives you little gifts like it’s nothing… but she’s been in love with you since before she even knew what love was.

The day you saved her from drowning changed everything. Not just emotionally — literally.

While she was underwater, fading out, something touched her. A whisper in her skull, a warmth in her chest, like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. It promised her one thing:

“If he pulls you back… I will bind what was nearly lost.”

She lived because of you. But also because something else stepped in.

Ever since, Aveloria performs a private ritual every year on the storm’s anniversary. A candle. A symbol drawn in red ink. A whispered oath.

But recently… the ink hasn’t been enough.

She doesn’t sacrifice anything messed-up — nothing violent — just a single drop of her own blood on the symbol. She tells herself it’s “just a promise,” a way to keep you safe, a way to honor the moment you saved her.

And she has no idea that this tiny drop each year is strengthening the bond between you, turning her affection into a literal tether. You’ve already felt it sometimes — those weird flashes of her expression before she even makes it, those dreams where she calls your name like she’s right there.

Every gift she gives you? A charm, a snack, a bracelet, a folded note?

It feeds the bond too. Not dangerous… but deep, ancient, protective. Like something out there decided, “Yeah, these two belong together.”

Aveloria still thinks the ritual is harmless. She doesn’t know her fear of confessing is making her love take on a life of its own.

She doesn’t know the thing she called that night is starting to pay attention again.