My dreams are filled with shadows, and my head feels like it is going to explode. When I finally wake up, the first thing I notice is that I am warm. Too warm.

And then, the pain.

It is excruciating, as if a knife is twisting deep within my skull.

I open my eyes, but the light is too bright. It stabs at me, a thousand tiny needles. I try to sit up, but the world spins around me. My stomach churns, and bile rises in my throat.

My stomach is empty, but I heave anyway. My chest hurts from the force. A few tears slip down my cheeks. After a few minutes, it is like my body finally realizes there is nothing in my stomach to empty. I wipe the tears away and take a deep, calming breath.

Once I have calmed down, I look around. The cave is empty. My mind is foggy, but I remember the shadow man. The devil. My soulmate.

I feel something inside of me, something that was not there before-a thread of awareness, a connection. It is him-the bond.

I cannot believe it is real. My soulmate. The person who is been missing from my life, the person who will complete me. The person I have longed for.

But where is he?

"Hello?" I call out, my voice weak.

There is no answer.

The sun has risen, and light is filtering into the cave. there is a chill in the air, and the floor is cold. I am still wrapped in Ciaran's cloak.

I push myself to my feet, wincing as a wave of pain washes over me. The thread of the bond hums, and I can feel him, but I cannot tell how near or far he is. If it were not for the unmistakable feeling of the bond, I would have thought I had dreamt him.

"Ciaran?"

Still no answer.

I step outside the cave, blinking in the sunlight. It is a clear, beautiful day, but the forest floor is still muddy. The path I was following yesterday is barely visible. I try my best to retrace my steps. I have to find my satchel and easel, which I left behind yesterday.

It takes me an hour, but I find the satchel. It is soaked, muddy, but the paints inside are safe. My painting, on the other hand, is a mess. It is ruined. I cannot find my easel anywhere.

I continue on the path until I find myself back at the cliff edge. I can make it home from here. My clothes are stiff and mud-covered, but Ciaran's cloak conceals most of it. I clutch my satchel tightly and hurry down the path that will lead me home.

I walk as fast as my sore body will allow. It is been a long night. The pain in my head and chest is lessening, but it is still present.

It is strange. I feel like a part of me is missing. Or maybe, like a part of me is stretching towards something, someone, beyond myself.

When I finally arrive at my small cottage, the sun is high in the sky. It is midday, and I am exhausted.

The first thing I do is bathe. The hot water soothes my sore muscles and washes away the mud and grime. I cannot seem to get the paint from under my fingernails, though. They are permanently stained.

As the water cools, I try to make sense of the past twenty four hours. I try to reconcile the fact that the man from the cave, the devil, was real. That he is my soulmate.

How is that even possible? How can someone who is supposed to be your other half be the stuff of nightmares?

And where did he go? He was there when I fell asleep, and gone when I woke.

Did he abandon me? Did he not feel the same pull towards me that I felt towards him? Was he disappointed with what he saw?

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe the bond is wrong.

No. I know it is not. I can feel the bond. Even though he is not here, I can feel him. He is a part of me now.

I finish bathing and dress in a fresh change of clothes. My stomach growls, reminding me that I have not eaten in nearly a day. I head to the kitchen and put together a quick meal. I do not have much, but there is a few vegetables and a little meat. I make a stew, and while it simmers, I sit at the table, sipping on a cup of tea.

I need to talk to someone about this. Someone who understands the bonds. Someone who can help me make sense of it.

I wish my brother, Silas, was here. We used to talk about everything. He was my best friend, my confidant.

Silas is older than me by a few years. When we were kids, we spent every moment together. We did everything together. He protected me, taught me how to swim and hunt, and told me stories about the lands beyond the forest.

We were inseparable.

But then, everything changed. He changed.

Something was going on with him that he would not share with me. He started sneaking out at night. I would wake up and find him gone. He would return early in the morning, and sometimes not at all.

I tried to ask him about it, but he would brush me off, telling me that I was too young to understand. That I would be better off not knowing.

I did not like it. I felt like he was keeping a secret from me. And it hurt. We were supposed to tell each other everything.

But one day, he did not come back. It was not unusual for him to be gone all night, but something felt off.

I waited for him, as I always had, but he did not return. Nor did he return the following day or the next.

My parents were frantic, calling upon the entire town to search for him. No one found him.

After a week, my mother collapsed, overcome with grief. She never recovered from his disappearance. She mourned for him, up until her passing. My father as well.

Silas's soul's mate, Lorianna, took her own life just month after his disappearance. That was all the confirmation I needed to know that he was gone forever.

That was ten years ago. Ten years since the night he left. And I have not seen him since.

I miss him, more than words can describe. He was my brother, my best friend. I loved him. And he left without a trace. Without a goodbye.

I have no idea what happened to him, and I do not think I ever will. But that has not stopped me from trying. I have asked around, hoping that someone, anyone, knows something.

I have spent years searching for answers, for clues as to what happened that night. Something was going on with him for weeks before his disappearance.

He was moody and withdrawn, not himself. He would snap at the slightest provocation. It was like he was a different person.

I know there was something wrong, something he was not telling me. But he would not let me help him.

The smell of my soup burning pulls me from my thoughts. I rush to the kitchen and pull the pot from the heat, stirring the soup. it is a little burnt, but salvageable.

I grab a bowl and spoon and sit down at the table. The soup is delicious, despite the burned bits. It warms my belly and chases away the chill in my bones.

I need to go into town to see Serena, my mentor, but not today. I am too exhausted. I am emotionally and physically drained.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I will find her and talk to her.

I finish my meal and wash the dishes. Then, I set up a clean canvas. I do not know what I am painting before I start. I rarely do. But I know when it starts taking shape, that it is Silas. His face.

Dark skin, darker eyes and hair, much like mine. If we had not been years apart, we could have passed for twins.

I paint, letting my emotions flow onto the canvas. I can feel my heart breaking all over again. Tears sting my eyes and spill down my cheeks.

I do not know why he left. Why he did not say goodbye. But I miss him. I will always miss him.